Contact lenses had to be flicked away. One turned purple. As did obviously the solution in the case. Shades too, have acquired a peculiar petrol-rainbow tinge.
Head wasn't a-OK. Throbbed, heaved, split down the centre, it made me cry for 28 hours after. Not continuously, of course. Mostly, I was emitting agonised, unsexy whimpers. Holi night -- after the bhang and games, andas smashed and clothes soiled -- I was kneeling on my bathroom floor, head in pot, trying desperately to puke. Except, for being just so bloody drained of energy -- mental faculties long having given way -- I was only alternating between crying, self pity, and semi consciousness.
Logical aversion now is to alcohol. (Shitty gujia doesn't count) And henceforth, for a month at the least, I shall nurse only green tea. No chugging disposable glasses of wine in the afternoon, no overpowering taste of lime juice cordial in shots, definitely no more beer. Spiked thandai is anyway just a holi affair. Bu bye to the evil occasional puff even. I is reformed woman. And my purple knuckles ( fuchsia cuticles, blue lobes..) should take nothing away from that statement.
Still, it was a fun day. I was a mess! Tearful in spurts, cackling hysterical, taking naps along the way, and for a good hour, in need of constant care. But the caregivers were lovely and amused. Minimally sympathetic, dancing shirtless and wild to very rang-barse music, these hooligans were too busy running on the terrace, emptying buckets of nasty tasting water impartially, bombarding poor, less advantageously-positioned on-the-road types with water balloons, and generally acting quite mad!
The crashing neighbours rooftop-do was a lot of fun. Doing a little jhatka matka jig with friendly Punjabi aunties, smashed-flirting with a once upon a time acquaintance, and embarrassing myself later in my horizontal state by shouting out his name...quite the fitting initiation into mad, solid-coloured Delhi hooliganism where the one toast for every remote indecency was bura na mano holi hai.
Head wasn't a-OK. Throbbed, heaved, split down the centre, it made me cry for 28 hours after. Not continuously, of course. Mostly, I was emitting agonised, unsexy whimpers. Holi night -- after the bhang and games, andas smashed and clothes soiled -- I was kneeling on my bathroom floor, head in pot, trying desperately to puke. Except, for being just so bloody drained of energy -- mental faculties long having given way -- I was only alternating between crying, self pity, and semi consciousness.
Logical aversion now is to alcohol. (Shitty gujia doesn't count) And henceforth, for a month at the least, I shall nurse only green tea. No chugging disposable glasses of wine in the afternoon, no overpowering taste of lime juice cordial in shots, definitely no more beer. Spiked thandai is anyway just a holi affair. Bu bye to the evil occasional puff even. I is reformed woman. And my purple knuckles ( fuchsia cuticles, blue lobes..) should take nothing away from that statement.
Still, it was a fun day. I was a mess! Tearful in spurts, cackling hysterical, taking naps along the way, and for a good hour, in need of constant care. But the caregivers were lovely and amused. Minimally sympathetic, dancing shirtless and wild to very rang-barse music, these hooligans were too busy running on the terrace, emptying buckets of nasty tasting water impartially, bombarding poor, less advantageously-positioned on-the-road types with water balloons, and generally acting quite mad!
The crashing neighbours rooftop-do was a lot of fun. Doing a little jhatka matka jig with friendly Punjabi aunties, smashed-flirting with a once upon a time acquaintance, and embarrassing myself later in my horizontal state by shouting out his name...quite the fitting initiation into mad, solid-coloured Delhi hooliganism where the one toast for every remote indecency was bura na mano holi hai.
7 comments:
A familiar speech, the off-alcohol rant :P my bike celebrated holi on my behalf.
And hey, backscratch!
Pink fingernails make for excellent fishing gear ;)
Another template!?
I'm sure once you've recovered you'll be back to intoxication!
Holi wasn't too big in the south, but I enjoyed it while I was in Delhi - "spiked" thandai and all. Don't think that kind of messiness is something I will want to be a part of in future though.
Pera: When have I said i was going off alcohol and stayed on it??! Be fair! And no backscratch, run along. hmph!
MC: 'Pink fingernails make for excellent fishing gear;)' -- this is a bit like 'colourless green ideas sleep furiously'.. nahi?
Y: Hey, I didn't know one could italicise in comments! Discovery moment, I say.
And no, NO ALCOHOL. For a while. Not a drop, no. Intoxication is gone, aversion stays. Give me time.
And about the template, it's funny how whenever you mention, by the time i respond, I've already changed it! :D Forgive me, but I've only recently discovered how to change headers, and photoshop is my oyster. On the plus side, i do have a phenomenally short attention/interest span, so I will tire, and it'll all pass.
The part where you describe your mental state is awesome,to be frank very diff to put it sometimes :)
I hope you have come out of the mess
Let's hear it for html tags then!
Woo hoo!
Time is what you shall have. And before you know it you'll be downing your favourite cocktail.
Where's this pic from then? 6th floor window? And backscratch noted. Thank yew.
Post a Comment