It is often a voracious debate between me and my female friends about consumption of intoxicants. I am referring to consuming alcoholic drinks and them… as any hot blooded Indian women express their extreme distaste towards it. Not that nowadays Indian girls are not coming out of closet to join the main stream cultural evolution that’s getting inclined more towards westernization.
I watch in mute silence as they get hazy in their orientation by drinking alcohol. I am not a male chauvinist. But somehow I feel a woman’s heart, soul and body that’s designed to generate and nurture another life within, is not to be treated with something that’s detrimental. Besides their propensity to bank towards emotion that liberates them in hesitation should they need to decide upon something, could not really stop themselves from what they wish to do.
I offer my profound apologies. You reserve your right to do what ever you feel like doing.
And most of my female friends do not fall in this category. Thank god. They scream at me when I insinuate that I am gonna get drunk. They try their best to twist my emotional arm to a convoluted angle and yet listen to me like a good friend.
They say I must not consume alcohol.
And I try harder to justify my act by citing historical, mythological and religious reference. (Don’t ask me to elaborate and come up with counter theories. Because I pick only select anecdotes that are in favor of my eye rolling fantasy). Facts like the angel clan in Hinduism used to drink Sura… a form of liquor and Lord Jesus distributing red wine to his disciples. I ask my female friends back… look at what you are preaching and who you are worshipping. They grind grit their teeth in powdery pulverizing fashion.
I claim that I do not consume it to the point of addiction. I do indulge in such luxury now and then. There is no plan for this and on an average I enjoy the pleasure of alcohol induced bliss once in a month… may be… an unexpected booze party is always welcomed with arms wide open. And when I am euphoric to the point of recklessness I do contemplate and execute my misadventure.
But to lessen the guilt quotient I always make it a point to call my girl to seek permission. One fortunate thing about her is she is conditioned to accept the role of alcohol in a man’s life as she grownup watching her dad booze frequently. But she sets me limits and some times follows up if I am honoring the promises made. I do honor the promises made.
Not because I am a good boy. But because I have this unspeakable problem that’s actually a blessing in disguise. I do develop malignant looking rashes on my skin if I go beyond three peg limit.
I watch Hollywood movies in utter fascination as they drink alcohol as if they were drinking water. What ever climatic conditions or cultural or social code of conduct that makes them not look much towards alcohol with criticism or disdain.
I feel one must drink to enjoy and definitely not to compensate pain, anger or depression. One must also be observant about the point of tilt he is going to trudge upon. If you happen to watch the movie Devdas… an iconic Indian hero who represents undying commitment towards his lady love that could not marry him, you will see his obvious attempts to replace emotional reclusion with alcohol. More than him I happen to get impressed with another character of that movie… Chunni Lal… Brilliantly portrayed by Jacky Shroff. He just drinks to seek best of the pleasure,
The other think I am observant about hogging fried and unhealthy food as we venture in to that high speed highway to dome. I prefer to munch and crunch raw carrots, cucumbers, tomatoes, onion slivers, turnips and beetroot.
I love that feeling of reaching the dividing edge of discipline and freedom. I relish the illusion of floating in my own senses. I appreciate the sense of brotherhood generated between amongst fellow drunks. I get amazed at the crystallized will to speak truth and confess fears.
And the dark side of the above vista is… I hate myself next day for being so irresponsible. I get itchy rashes all over my arms and forearms and yikes… I bang my head on wall screaming why, why, why… I slap myself first and tell myself that never again in my life I am gonna get drunk.
But my resolve wears off after a month the same way alcohol wears off my blood stream. In matters of boozing, I am like a dog’s tail that bends not. But I am a good tail of dog as I do not get bent immediately and it would at least take a month to reach my own wickedness again….
Ha ha ha ha ha…..
Hey… By the way… I have this diabolic fantasy to watch one of… I mean… any of my female friends to get drunk and fight me with words slurred. A distant dream that probably could never be fulfilled…
Any takers???
I watch in mute silence as they get hazy in their orientation by drinking alcohol. I am not a male chauvinist. But somehow I feel a woman’s heart, soul and body that’s designed to generate and nurture another life within, is not to be treated with something that’s detrimental. Besides their propensity to bank towards emotion that liberates them in hesitation should they need to decide upon something, could not really stop themselves from what they wish to do.
I offer my profound apologies. You reserve your right to do what ever you feel like doing.
And most of my female friends do not fall in this category. Thank god. They scream at me when I insinuate that I am gonna get drunk. They try their best to twist my emotional arm to a convoluted angle and yet listen to me like a good friend.
They say I must not consume alcohol.
And I try harder to justify my act by citing historical, mythological and religious reference. (Don’t ask me to elaborate and come up with counter theories. Because I pick only select anecdotes that are in favor of my eye rolling fantasy). Facts like the angel clan in Hinduism used to drink Sura… a form of liquor and Lord Jesus distributing red wine to his disciples. I ask my female friends back… look at what you are preaching and who you are worshipping. They grind grit their teeth in powdery pulverizing fashion.
I claim that I do not consume it to the point of addiction. I do indulge in such luxury now and then. There is no plan for this and on an average I enjoy the pleasure of alcohol induced bliss once in a month… may be… an unexpected booze party is always welcomed with arms wide open. And when I am euphoric to the point of recklessness I do contemplate and execute my misadventure.
But to lessen the guilt quotient I always make it a point to call my girl to seek permission. One fortunate thing about her is she is conditioned to accept the role of alcohol in a man’s life as she grownup watching her dad booze frequently. But she sets me limits and some times follows up if I am honoring the promises made. I do honor the promises made.
Not because I am a good boy. But because I have this unspeakable problem that’s actually a blessing in disguise. I do develop malignant looking rashes on my skin if I go beyond three peg limit.
I watch Hollywood movies in utter fascination as they drink alcohol as if they were drinking water. What ever climatic conditions or cultural or social code of conduct that makes them not look much towards alcohol with criticism or disdain.
I feel one must drink to enjoy and definitely not to compensate pain, anger or depression. One must also be observant about the point of tilt he is going to trudge upon. If you happen to watch the movie Devdas… an iconic Indian hero who represents undying commitment towards his lady love that could not marry him, you will see his obvious attempts to replace emotional reclusion with alcohol. More than him I happen to get impressed with another character of that movie… Chunni Lal… Brilliantly portrayed by Jacky Shroff. He just drinks to seek best of the pleasure,
The other think I am observant about hogging fried and unhealthy food as we venture in to that high speed highway to dome. I prefer to munch and crunch raw carrots, cucumbers, tomatoes, onion slivers, turnips and beetroot.
I love that feeling of reaching the dividing edge of discipline and freedom. I relish the illusion of floating in my own senses. I appreciate the sense of brotherhood generated between amongst fellow drunks. I get amazed at the crystallized will to speak truth and confess fears.
And the dark side of the above vista is… I hate myself next day for being so irresponsible. I get itchy rashes all over my arms and forearms and yikes… I bang my head on wall screaming why, why, why… I slap myself first and tell myself that never again in my life I am gonna get drunk.
But my resolve wears off after a month the same way alcohol wears off my blood stream. In matters of boozing, I am like a dog’s tail that bends not. But I am a good tail of dog as I do not get bent immediately and it would at least take a month to reach my own wickedness again….
Ha ha ha ha ha…..
Hey… By the way… I have this diabolic fantasy to watch one of… I mean… any of my female friends to get drunk and fight me with words slurred. A distant dream that probably could never be fulfilled…
Any takers???
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