The Florist Part V

“Ya, sure we will. Happy to see you after a long time” I acknowledged.

I drink occasionally and that’s too on special occasions. Though it was a special occasion for me, I tried to refrain myself from boozing. It was difficult to say “No” to Manish and Sameer. Though I tried to, they insisted a lot. Finally the bargain ended on a can of Fosters. The other thought in my mind which was prompting me against having the alcohol was the thought of her. I wanted to be in all my senses that night, just for her. But she was not there. I wished I could see her again tonight.

“Let’s go buddy”, said Manish.

We left the place and reached to the Maruti 800, Manish’s car, parked at space juxtaposed to the temple. It was the same car, the one which we used to travel with during our halcyon days in Delhi. Manish reached for the can in the car and grabbed two of them. We moved behind the car so as to avoid being watched while boozing.
Manish opened his can and waited for me for the drinking toast.

“Cheers!!!”,we both toasted together for Sameer.

After a while we saw somebody was heading towards us. The face was hardly visible since we were standing towards the brighter side of the road. He was tall and walking briskly as if in haste. We both became conscious for the moment.

“Bingo!! This is Anshul!!!” Manish shouted loudly.

“Ya he is Anshul”, I said.

We both were aghast. He had no plans to join the marriage as he was preoccupied with the commonwealth games preparation activity and to our surprise he was here to attend Sameer’s wedding.

I met Anshul through Manish in Delhi. And later he shifted with Manish when he was on a job hunt in delhi. Since then we were good pals. Anshul was smart and 6.1 feet tall young punjabi lad. He was a little mischievous guy and was a great singer indeed who used to sing only after having some sips of Blender’s Pride, his hard drink brand. He was working as an Assistant Project officer in commonwealth games which were scheduled in 2010.

If you ask him how the CWG preparation is going, he used to reply humorously, “Naak katayenge saale.”

Bacchanalian and agoged Manish shouted loudly “Baby Logon! Sharabi is here.” And I choked laughing.

“Hey dude. Great surprise”, I gawked and said.

He smiled and said “Yar, I am very tired and thirsty pass me an energy drink first”, his hand reached over the stomach to complement his words.

“Ahhh that’s like a true sharabhi”, Manish reached for the can from the car.

After a sip from the can he felt so contented as if he didn’t have any for ages. Ironically he was in sense now.

“Dada, aaj taa dhamal karange” he uttered in Punjabi.

“Anne dino baad milya si, dhamaal to karanga hi, bas tussi ek gana suna de”, said Manish.

Though I don’t know much Punjabi but I could construe that Manish had demanded for a song from him.It never happens if you ask for a song from Anshul when he is drunk and he had refuted. So he started with one of his favorite’s “Teri Deevani….by Kailash Kher”.

I could hardly recollect that if I had heard this song by Kailash Kher for more than once. But from Anshul it was more than hundredth time I was hearing it.
We all enjoyed the party on that night. I was feeling lighter than before. But her thought was still there in some part of my memory; Still unaffected by alcohol’s incursion.

It was 9.30 PM , time to wind up and to reach for the barat. We kept the empty cans back in the car and left the place hastily.

9.40 PM, Drunk and Running Behind the Barat

The Barat was way ahead than we had expected. We were just able to hear the remote boisterous sounds. We were badly chasing it. After running for some four hundred meters, Manish yielded and gave up the chase.

“You people continue if you want I couldn’t chase any more”, said Manish, breathing heavily.

“Come on dada, just four hundred meters more I guess. You can make it”, said Anshul
“I guess!!! What if it is more???”, said Manish.
“No it won’t be. Believe me”, said Anshul.

Dada again gathered the courage and started chasing. I was tired too and so was Anshul. We could observe the frequency shift in the sound coming from the other corner of the street.

“See there they are.” I said.
Manish yielded once again and said, “Oh my god, they are still too far. No I can’t run guys.”

With that he relaxed himself on the pavement, lying carelessly. It was difficult to please Manish this time. I saw a rickshaw passing on the street and I called for help. The rickshaw puller was a meek old man in his 60’s may be. I wondered if he could pull the rickshaw. We decided that Manish will chase in rickshaw and we guys by foot. Manish climbed up and we started running.
“Chalo baba. Tejh chalo”, Manish urged the rickshaw puller who was finding it difficult to pull.

After running for some three hundred meters more we looked back. We were shocked to see that Manish was running instead of being on rickshaw. We stopped and waited for him.

“What happened to the rickshaw dada??”, Anshul queried.

“That rickshaw puller could not pull. Dammm, with that I would never able to chase. So I dropped the idea of chasing with him”, said Manish breathing heavily.

We both burst out laughing. And even Manish could not able to contain his mirth.
“Dada. Some more distance is left. They are right ahead and the next halt”, said Anshul.

We gathered the energy scattered in all our veins and started again. After covering someone fifty meters more we finally landed right in the middle of the dance gang. Though we were puffing out, we were still exuberant enough to dance.

Manish was too zealous after seeing some beautiful faces all around. He felt energetic than before. “Baby Logon!!! Lets rock!!!”, said exuberant Manish. The band was playing good bhangra beats and lots of those were familiar ones. One couldn’t contain oneself in such situation and the same was true with us. We started dancing in that spirited environment.