I live very close to three good pubs in chennai: High Time in GRT, Black & White in Residency Towers and Ten Downing Street. All of them are within a kilometer’s range.
I had already cooked daal and Tiwari had already prepared sabji when Prachi called up.
Zara’s? No. You guys carry one. Drink. Have fun. Me will eat. About to put rice in cooker. Cyao.
Zara’s is yet another family pub where you are not allowed to dance. Sad place. Been there once. It is not too far away either but definitely not as walkable as the three that I mentioned. Anyway, yeah, so I was about to place the cooker’s lid over the vessel with rice inside it when she called up again.
Zara’s full? You guys couldn’t go in? Yeah alright, come over. We shall eat. I can still add more rice. No? I will see you in five min? Ok. Cyao.
Guess what happened finally?
Ten Downing Street. Four of us. Three had booze. One had juice. Seven bottles of beer. One orange flavoured Tropicana? Drinks followed by food at home. Rice. Daal. Fried cabbage. And of course, sugar cubes (keep wondering).
I had only sugar cubes though and was busy throwing up at different locations in the flat. No, not on the floor you losers, only in the sink in hall and the toilet attached to my room. And then I was busy cleaning up things because I no more live in a hostel. There you could puke in the bog and forget about it. Some poor sweeper would take care of things the next day. No more. This is our flat. Tiwari’s and mine. We gotta take care of everything.
Things have changed. These small small differences remind of a life that has suddenly become a past. That wing, that common bog, that small room, that metallic cot. Everything. In a week or two, someone new will take up the room that had been mine for the last three years. Room no. 345. Narmada. Ah, am I missing it? No way.
I live in T. Nagar. I live very close to three good pubs in chennai.