Mission " Rescue Assam"

Scene: Drunkard 1 is sitting on the floor.Dressed in his bermudas and a light yellow vest ( which may have been white once upon a time ), he dutifully performs the task of mixing the drinks. He lives up to his reputation of being a good bartender.Years of practice have made him a master at the art of mixing the right quantity of water, soda and whiskey.A man revered in his college circle for his extraordinary ability to drink red rum in neat pegs , he now sits with his head resting on the bed and his eyes contemplating his own pot-belly.Drunkard 2 , dressed in a bermuda and an Iron Maiden T-shirt sits on the bed.He is the official DJ of the night.His eyes scans the entire hard disk of the laptop in front of him , as he searches for the next track.As the screaming guitar solos from ' Afraid to shoot strangers ' draws to an end , drunkard-2 quickly searches for the next track.His eyes fall on a folder titled " Bhupen Hazarika".A bottle of whiskey lies in the centre of the room..with just enough manna from heaven left to make three small pegs.
Meanwhile , Drunkard-3 makes frequent visits to the room to take small gulps from his glass.He has the toughest job in the party tonight.He is charge of the pork.As he sweats out in the kitchen , he curses the other two and thinks aloud as to why he made the blunder of publicising his cullinary skills.
Drunkard-1:"After long time , it feels good to drink man..nothing like college buddies.."
Drunkard-2:" Nothing like this man..sitting on the floor..dressed only in our chaddi-baniyan...absolutely nothing man...just like the good ol' times"
Drunkard-1: " Sometimes I feel i will leave all these stuff and go back to the hills...Oi change the song..man am gettin all nostalgic today..something in Assamese"
Drunkard-2 in a rare moment of courage and inspiration puts on Bhupen Hazarika's "Aami axomiya nohou dukhiya" ( which translates to 'We Assamese will never be poor')

Drunkard-1: "Yes ! yes! Nohou dukhiya k*** ( yes! yes! we will never be poor)"
Drunkard-2: "Yes! You are right..we have everything..tea ,oil , Zubeen Garg..(motioning to the kitchen ) oi bring over the pork..when will we eat if we can't have it with the maal*?"
Drunkard-3 obliges and brings over a few pieces of pork on a steel plate.Taking a quick gulp from his glass , he motions to the others to pour out the remaining whiskey.Now finally relieved from his duties , he offers his inputs to this intellectualy stimulating discussion.
Drunkard-3 : 'what will you call people who have not experienced the heavenly taste of pork?"
Drunkard-1 : 'Backward k***..what do these people know what good cuisine is , huh? Nothin like north-east man..no casteism..religious difference..see how everyone enjoys momos..wait and see..10 yrs from now I will return to Assam.."
Drunkard-3: "( with a sarcastic laugh) 10 years from now Assam will be a part of Bangladesh"
Drunkard-2 : " Yes..all for this fuckinn' central government and the terrorists..we got to do something man"
Drunkard-1: " we have to drive them out..each and every single one...soboke khedim k***."
Drunkark-3 ( sensing a change in the atmosphere )" Hey forget all these stuff man..what happened to the new HR chick you were eying at office?"
Drunkard-1 ( laughing) " Fuck that bitch..there is nothing like our own chicks"
Drunkard-2 " Yes man nothin like our chicks of Handique college* on the day of Saraswati Puja"
Drunkard-1 " So lets raise a toast for them..Joi Aai Axom"
Drunkard-2 & 3 (in unison) : " Joi Aai Axom!!`"

We reach the point where memories of drunken revelry blurs into the reality of a hot scorching sun shining thorugh your window pane on piles of unwashed dishes and a floor littered with cigarette packets and bottles.However one thing I can say with certaininty is that Assam was saved yet again due to the efforts of 3 brave and patriotic young men.

Footnotes:
K*** - A popular 4 lettered Assamese slang which can be used alternatively as adjective , adverb and conjuction.
Maal* - Popular term for alcohol
Handique college* - A girls college in Guwahati.

Poems by a fan of Neruda and Mithunda-2

Boxes


The kid in the box shaped apartment,
Stares at the sky through square windows.

The bored goldfish in the old aquarium,
Gazes at bored men in office cublicles.

The old lady in the empty room,
Seeks nirvana through her television set.

My soul dwells among boxes.
It floats in a world,
Where space is defined by walls,
And the heart is cursed to carry
The weight of emptiness.

I can feel my skin harden,
And form walls around my soul.
The smoothness giving way to sharp edges
that cuts through the air.

I have morphed into a box
Like the missing block in a jigsaw puzzle,
I finally fall into place.