New Year postmortem

Yacht to yacht,
we hopped.
Whizzing past tandoorques,
disco-shisco’s,
Rotract raves
and filmi enclaves.

Until we arrived aboard Abdul;
alas, our turner* was gul!
And so was rest of the crowd.
Shortly trooped in the Guju “deck che” gang.
(Damn they were loud!)

“Doodh” Beckham wannabe followed,
with nearly-nude scary spice
in tow.
(Watching her teeth chatter in the cold was nice;
if only she’d done a thong-song,
a la sisqo.)

But the one who stole the show
was our man Jeetendra in white.
He was a beacon,
in the dead of the night.

After a long wait & much deliberation,
the “ship” was put into motion.

And we were off
into the dark beyond;
where “poetic ripples”, “imaginary constellations” & shark stories
mingled with the wish-wash of the waves.

High on the idea of partying
the crowd shut out the silence of the sea,
(while I secretly wished they’d just let it be.)

A long interlude peppered with inane “oil rig” quips,
“milkman” digs later,
Abdul pulled into Mandwa.

Dejavu greeted us at the shore,
“Darlin’ haven’t we been here before!”

Marathi manus got jiggy with it;
as the “clique” boarded the rickety bus;
and ghostly kid starred her eyeballs out
as we counted backwards from dus.

Racing against the clock,
the new year beat us to the resort;
but “unlimited alcohol” soothed our souls;
hmmm.. did we dance around poles?

Slipping into the cool sand,
we buried bygones
and trampled on the past.
Chudidhar aunty simply looked aghast!

Downing Vodkas by the dozen;
we were Kishen Mulchandani’s first cousins.

“Neat coke,” my uninitiated sis asked,
“Never heard that,” the bartender barked,

Yup, this “curtain raiser” was ‘nother highlight
from this unusual evening;
topped only by the sozzled
jump-and-cling
guy who tried to conquer square pants.
{Nope, it was no gay bash ;)
all the dude wanted was “some hash.”}

By now everything was “beautiiiiiful” & “nicccccceeeeeeee”
“A lot more Vodka puhhhhlease & no ice!”

Couldn’t get anymore surreal, could it?
Sure it could,
and it did.

White beds lay spread eagle
on one end of the beach;
we rushed to it,
lest it be a mirage;
and vanish before we reach.

A DJ serenaded this sleepy hollow
where some sat
others slept;
if I wasn’t drunk,
I surely would’ve wept!

After that everything is a blur;
if you want to know more;
please ask her
who patted while I puked
and nursed my hangover with
Freud eggs in the mornin’.

(Psst….hot water did the trick!)
Yup, I was no longer sick;
untill queen of the damned
pulled a Vikram Seth on me!


*[Turner: Some ignorant souls believe a vessel/ship is steered by a certain someone who they believe is a "turner". To those not in the know, this guy is actually called "about-face ;)]