Its been four long years since I updated my blog. Four years in which my life has changed dramatically and so has everything around me. So , when I tried to pen down something today ,I wanted to express something about the idea of change and continuity. The safest way to do that was to return to familiar turf by revisiting an old blog post and trying to write a sequel to it. For the original blog post , please check it out here. Anyways, here is the sequel:
The three drunkards congregate at the parking lot, dressed
in their best festive attire, now getting increasingly creased along with a few
food stains here and there. The air is thick tonight and sweat trickles down
their foreheads as they hold on to their cigarettes. The parking lot at times is
the only space where married men of a certain age can inhale some fresh air.
The social drinking and exchanging petty jokes can get suffocating at times.
With a bottle of finest scotch down their throats ( “This is real scotch , not
JD. JD is Tennessee whisky”), the three men now feels the need to curse aloud in their own tongue and simultaneously get drenched in hopeless nostalgia.
Drunkard-1 : “K*** aami axomor lora be..maal khamei..jimaan
bura nohou kiyo” ("We are guys from Assam. We will drink, no matter how old we are")
Drunkard-2 : This is music to my ears. After so long..yes k***. Women will never understand what it feels to utter this magic word.
Drunkard-3 : Yes k*** , you can say “fuck” but you cannot
say k***. Why not I ask? Why not k***?
Drunkard-2 : Because it is so down-market you know ( faking
a convent accent)
Drunkard-1 : That is what pisses me off. We are losing our
basic culture. Look at the teenagers in Guwahati now. Dressed like emos or
whatever shit that is. Pathetic taste of music. In our times we had Deep Purple
and Pink Floyd.
Drunkard-2 : I think they were in our father’s time to be
more precise.
Drunkard-1 : Whatever. I mean music today sucks. Dressing
sense sucks. Basically an entire generation has gone down the drain.
Drunkard-3 : Baad de be eibur kela. Vote dibi eibaar?( "Forget all these stuff , will you vote this time?")
Drunkard-1: Sob sur hoi. Kunuba dangor sur kunuba xoru.("They are all thieves, big ones and small")
Drunkard-2 : Toi kuntu surok vote dibi?
Drunkard-1 : Moi vote di puwai nai. What difference does it
make? Aase to Bangladeshi bur.Does our vote count?
Drunkard-2 : O.K you won’t but will anyone in your family
do?
Drunkard-1: The last time someone voted in our family was
when my mother voted for Debojit Saha to win Sa-re-ga-ma.
( Loud laughter)
Drunkard-3 : I will tell you one thing with absolute certainty.
Ajmal will be CM in 10 years time.
Drunkard- 1 : The day that happens I will quit Assam once
and for all.
Drunkard-2 : Which reminds me of something..wait..do you
remember that party we had 5 years back in that tiny pigeonhole of yours in Mumbai. You made a
loud proclamation that you are returning to Assam in another 10 years.
Drunkard-1 : I stick to it. Maybe another 10 years from now.
We are all growing older. Family, kids, EMIs..you all know this shit.
Drunkard-2 : You can keep revising the deadline. Assam will
remain the same and wait for you to do the rescue act.
Drunkard-3 : Don’t mock him man. Is it not comforting that
some things will never change? Samujjwal is still a student leader. There are still 6 hour long power-cuts. The other
day, 3 guys got admitted into GMC after a drunken brawl during a Zubeen
concert. Continuity is the word. Yes. Some traditions must be carried forward.
Drunkard-1 : Absolutely ! Bulls-eye bro! Some things should never
change. Once a khar , always a khar!
Drunkard-2 : Ab ki baar Modi sarkar!!
The three men burst into uncontrollable laughter , almost
tripping over one another as they struggle to keep their balance. The night is
getting younger every passing moment.
( The familiar Samsung default ringtone breaks the laughter)
Female voice : We are all waiting for you. Don't you understand that there are kids here who need to sleep early?
Drunkard-2 : We are
coming upstairs. Why don’t you girls finish your wine first? We will all have
the dessert together after that
Looking at the other two :I think the ladies are done with
appreciating each other’s dresses.
The three men look at each other. In the tacit understanding
that all married men have, no further words are exchanged. They quietly make
their way to the elevator.
