#3: TGIF ?
I have always liked Marvel’s comic characters. Iron Man has been a role model, Hulk’s machismo always blows me off from my seat and Spiderman was most children’s superhero. I have never really liked Flash, because who really wants to speed through life when you can sit back and savor the moments of life! But that’s exactly what happens when you start working.
Monday to Friday. Zoom. In a breath. The only time the pace slows is Friday evening. When the office is empty. And you remember that you have a life outside work. So, you call up friends, fix up a nice swanky place in BKC or SoBo and partaayyy!
The parties although superficially different from each other, are very similar in the basic aspects. First, is the rendezvous that you have with Mumbai traffic, because hey, you are a middle-class professional who can only afford a place in Powai or Kurla, whereas all ‘happening’ places are in Bandra or south. After making painful love with the traffic, you reach the place.
A few of your friends are already there, and you wonder how they are always punctual when it comes to partying but were surprisingly late when they were in your study group back in college. You are also surprised to see a few more people that one of your friends brought with him. You don’t really like them, but you console yourself that “Everyone comes with a baggage” and move on.
The only way you can bear that extra baggage is if you don’t think about them, so you start drinking. You start with a beer, but realize soon that it’s not manly enough. So, you move on to the more masculine Whiskeys and Rums. Soon, you move on to shots, and before you know it, you are sloshed.
Third, the people.
Some regale with their crazy dance moves, while some stand at the bar with drinks in hand, and a judging look in their eyes saying, “What the fuck is he doing?”
Some are drinking at a pace that matches Flash itself, while some are monogamists, holding the same Draupadi-incarnated glass that never runs out of alcohol through the entire night.
The conversations range from work to love to college to ultimately a single conclusion, “Sab ch****pa hai.”
The nihilism in everyone’s souls suddenly comes out and everyone toasts to this. This is the tipping point in the party. The moment of catharsis. The mood flips. The dancers get more groovy. The songs change from Shape of You to Tu Cheez Badi hai mast. People start drinking from any and every glass there on the bar. The hugs become more frequent and so do the make-outs in some corner of the pub.
By this time, you don’t know half the people you are dancing with. More baggage.
But it doesn’t matter, because soon, you are already on the Marine Drive promenade singing songs of Kishore Kumar, without giving a fuck about the rain. You smile because you like this moment a lot, and take a deep breath to savor it. You find your friends, book a cab and bounce off home, all the while thinking whether the cab driver is judging you or not.
With great pleasure, comes great pain. And surely, it does come on Saturday morning, when you resolve that you’ll never drink again but you know it’s almost going to be the same next Friday.
Is it? Should it be? I don’t know. All I know is, I hate monotony. And this will become monotonous pretty soon.

