Monday, July 24, 2006

five of us

Any Sunday that consists of savage chickens, all your favourite food items and a three-hour afternoon nap is worth remembering fondly in dark times. A Sunday that adds to this bliss Brigade Road for half an hour on Sunday evening, unexpected phone calls, watching a play that busts your gut and a road trip to Hyderabad; is worthy of something spectacular.
The third Vin I know told us about the play at Rangashankara when we were out for coffee on Saturday night. Troupe from Chennai, highly recommended (alas if i had but known of my prior connections, but spilt milk etc so leave it be), tickets at Rs. 100, quoth she. As that fit my budget, I was all gung-ho. Vehemently told Pam to be sure and take me along if he was going. Which leads to its logical conclusion, meaning that I forgot all about it by Sunday and hence spent it as luxuriantly as I possibly could, avoiding such unnecessary items of work such as cleaning the balcony, my room, the house etc. At five-forty-five, I received a call from none other than Pam, and that brought everything back in a hurry. We meet at six-fifteen, he said. And in my unbathed state, that was cutting it rather fine. However, never say I don't rise to a challenge. It was the work of ten minutes to bathe, five to dress, and two to pelt out of the house and hail an auto.
Miraculously, I arrived at Brigade Road at six-fifteen on the dot, owing to phenomenal luck traffic-wise. I then waited half-an-hour till the boys got there. I refrain from making any comments touching upon punctuality or gender. I whiled the time away by observing the masses. I could have stood there the whole day and not been bored. Add to this an unexpected phone call from a certain mad person, a little trouble with directions and a last minute dash for tickets, and we found ourselves awaiting the play itself, which I will gloss over. I enjoyed myself thoroughly, as did my companions; and whenever I grew bored, I entertained myself with the thought of what my mother might say on hearing that I was in the company of three men all unknown to her, one of them a white man, too. As I invested my mother in this scenario with a puritanical form of expression that would have shocked the dear lady no end had she been privy to it, the excitement quotient was sufficient to keep me occupied.
Once all the laughing was done, it was half-past nine, and we wended our way (ah what a pretty phrase) to the parking lot. We took a couple of wrong turns, and then found ourselves on a highway to Hyderabad. I was sorely tempted, baby, be sure. However, two manic gentlemen, a night of balmy breezes and a car ride in the dark could not quite banish the thought of a worried parental unit somewhere Bangalore-ward, and so, after dragging out life stories and laughing like hyenuses all the way, I finally got home to sleeping mother and dinner at eleven.

Sometimes life is so good to you that you tend to wonder why people don't smile more.

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