Where have I been?
Just incredibly blah! It got to a point where I was seeing the same bhaajiwalla at the same spot on the street, the same dogwalker (Man, she's so so butch! "Butchy McBullDyke" is my nickname for her) with the same fucking dog pooping on the street, the same queue of burkha-clad women outside the herbal masseuse, the same damn people over and over and over again...It was like Groundhog day but without the attractive people. And yes, I actually called Bill Murray attractive (If you saw "Lost in Translation", you'd agree too)
How does one deal with lethargy? Especially when it's 35C and 90% humidity outside? Well, one goes to the beach! "Juhu beach?" I hear the multitude cry out! "He swims in that bacterial sludge and oil slick that villagers from the hinterland call the sea" the gossip is whispered from ear to ear. "He will tan horribly and then no one will marry him" Amma wails. "He's a fag, no one wants him anyway" Annu reasons. "He isn't wheatish anymore (neither is he gym-built, lovable or *has place*)" The gay bois taunt.
Ah well, screw you all! I took my ass off to Goa! Land of sea, sand, surf and selibacy. OK So that doesn't really work, but you get my drift. We had this company offsite thing in Goa for a couple of days and after the all-work bit, it was time for some all-play (Quick digression : I HATE the all-play option on Pictionary...because I always end up with the partner who doesn't cheat and look into the better artist's pad). I stayed behind after the work bit for 3 days of R&R (with the R not standing for Routine thankfully) on Baga beach. Waking up at brunch time about 11 am, spending 30 minutes trying to decide if I open my left eye first or my right eye, eating insanely huge meals for half the price, drinking Kings beer till I swear I had beer coming out of my ears, getting a ridiculous tan and no tan line..how ever did I manage it? ;-)
I even ended up going to the gay bar at Calangute all by myself. Actually, that was a big red-letter night for me. I've never been to a gay bar, gay party, gay anything alone. I'm absolutely petrified of having my very basic social skills (some say Neanderthalic almost) exposed to the sneering gaze of the obnoxiously good looking people who show up wherever I am just as I'm having a bad hair day (or worse, a bad jeans-fit day) Anyway, I walked in to find myself the only brown person in a lounge of about 75 people. "Drat!" I said to myself.."I've walked into the annual meeting for the Ku Klux Klan - Goa North chapter" And then I was like - Oh wait, this is just like every one of those bar nights at Club Cafe in Boston...when I represented the vast multitude of the unwashed, tired, hungry, huddled *brown* masses yearning to breathe free in a sea of perfectly coiffed, Abercrombie and Fitch wearing, giant pecs showing, blond hair gelled up *white bois*. I should be used to this...and with that thought in mind I strode in confidently. (*No he didn't. He slinked in hoping no one noticed him and said Hi before he'd downed atleast 2 martinis*).
And it was such a revelation..men saying Hi, men buying me drinks, men laughing at my feeble attempts at humour! Men wanting to get into my pants...WTF? Was this another planet I was on? Whatever happened to the "Ignore the Vikster" club? Was this just a Gay Bombay construct? Am I *shudder* actually interesting in Goa? And so I held court. Revenge for colonialism...now this skinny brown guy had assorted Englishmen buying *him* drinks. Thank you Gandhi and Nehru.
Note to all disparagers of the Vikster's karaoke skills: There were a few people there at the bar who remembered my moving rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody from New Year's eve at the same bar. Which I thought was wicked cool seeing as the dudes in question were wearing thongs and peacock feather masks that night.
10 (Yes. 10.) drinks later, I staggered out. At 5 am. I was drunk. Fuck the horny bit...I was so drunk I don't think I even realized I had a dick that could be used for non-peeeing purposes. "Never again" I said as I crawled into bed...2 Aspirins and a bottle of water clutched in my arms. The ceiling swam in front of my eyes. I closed my eyes and I got seasick. Kept sitting up and promising myself that this was the absolutely last time I was ever going to drink..and then laughing out loud at the ridiculous view of myself wrapped up in a bedsheet, waste paper basket in hand, talking to myself in the mirror....
And I spent the last 2 days of my holiday hungover. Sunglasses on face, hat hiding the glare and a quiet corner on the beach with no trance or sitars twanging in the background.
And since then, I've been good. No beer, no vodka and ... no martinis. The last one is causing me much heartburn. Or that could just be the gin from the night in Goa coming back to haunt me again...Blech! Oh and if I ever need to know why I shouldn't drink, I'm just going to check out this picture of me...drunk off my ass!
Losing my religion - REM
I sang this for M. at "O Pescador" at Baga Beach one night 1 year or more ago. It's amazing how I remember it still..