The butterfly haze

It’s 1.17 a.m. Looks like sleep has deluded me.I’m sleepy, but I’m awake.Like my mind refuses to go to sleep.

I must stop having dark chocolate. It sends sleep flying out of my window. It is times like these that I do the randomest of things.

There are a few beer bottles left over from new years. I’ve been pouring it on my hair ever since. Just before I take bath. It does wonders for my hair, I tell you.

It seemed like such a waste, though. To let my hair drink all of it. I decided I’m going to drink it instead.

I love my alcohol, but when it comes to beer, the mere taste of it makes me want to hurl. I've always wanted to know what the big deal about this golden-brown liquid is, anyway. I closed my eyes and gulped a few sips down.

Alcohol bottles sitting at the back of my closet usually spell trouble. And I’m not the usual sharabi ladki who sneaks bottles in and drinks them at inappropriate hours. It’s a little hard to get rid of these bottles, though. New years left me with a bunch of good memories. Funny, I haven't spoken about it at all.

I like playing hostess. I just get a little worried about calling a bunch of people who have never seen each other, even on Facebook. What’s a host got to do if the guests won’t talk? I wish I was an awkward moment breaker. But in most cases I end up being the creator. I can be socially retarded like that.

As it ends up I’m just one among a lot of other socially awkward beings. I’m not saying all of my friends are like that, I’m just saying I have a few of my kind around. What happens when you put them in one room? You have a party you’re going to remember for a while.

While I’d like to believe I did make a good host, I have random memories of jumping around the house in a pair of grey stockings and yellow bunny rabbit ears. Having friends like these also means you’re allowed to wear whatever the hell you want.

In the bargain, I shamelessly forgot to order food. Or make some for that matter. We survived on Saloni’s pizzas and Avanti’s nutella sandwich.

Sugar rush is an awesome thing I tell you. Especially, if it hits you when you’re already high on alcohol. I was dancing to Sheila ki Jawani at 12 am. Item dancing. The spastic version. The sort when alcohol hits you and your limbs decide to go on a break.

There were conversations. Some emotional, some meaningful and some nonsensical and some downright hilarious. Apparently, there was singing as well. Right before I randomly fell asleep. Will you judge me if I tell you I sang ‘saat samundar par’?

Awesomeness that we are, Shreya and I party crashed as well. In the dead of the night. But we left as soon as we realised a) they were too old for us b) the aunties had too much cellulite on their thighs c) The music they were playing made it seem as if they were welcoming 2006. We slipped out quietly. Coke glasses in our hands. Her's ‘neat’. Mine ‘spiked’.

After all the little adventures, I finally properly fell asleep at 5 am, only to wake up to a happy-yappy me.

It’s going to be a good year. Don't you think so? *grins*

Post IV blues.

It's been too long, sir. Waaaaay too long. And what better time that the day before your prelims, to revisit? It's been eventful. It's been uneventful. It's been many things.

Funny, I haven't spoken about the trip at all. With my whole anti-college phase going on, I didn't think I'd be happy sitting in a train with 120 people, who I have to try very hard not to slap. Yes, I sometimes feel I'm cooler than a lot of people. Deal with it.
You know what I like the most about these college trips? They're absolutely random. You're packing your bag, calling all of your friends, making mental notes about what you're going to do. And then bam! The trip happens. And everything goes against your little plan. Sometimes it's just disastrous. But most of the time it's turns out to be surprisingly awesome.

I'm walking towards the hotel lobby from the gardens. There is a little lake on the way, with very noisy ducks inside. They were on sugar rush, I suppose (or whatever they get high on) and kept me distracted for a while. Good thing I didn't notice the empty swing that kept uniformly moving until I was almost out of the darkness. What is so strange about an empty swing moving in the darkness? Well, creepy to say the least, especially if the one next to it, isn't moving at all. Also, I should tell you this. There was no wind. Not even a bit.
I wanted to scream, but I ran instead. Adrenaline rush. All the way till I reached my room. Surely, I couldn't have imagined it. I go around telling the story. Ghost stories never fail to fascinate, no? At two a.m. in the morning, eight of us, in the middle of a 'tales of the Satan' session decide, nothing could possibly make this more fun than going ghost hunting at the hour of the Satan. What follows is a lot of screaming, nail biting, false alarms and panic attacks on the way to the scene of errr...horror.
The next day we discovered that the swing continues to move for atleast fifteen minutes after the swinger(what are they called) gets off the swing. But that night, we were so caught up in the frenzy, we lost every bit of our reasoning. And I'm so glad we did. We had one heck of an adventurous night.

Nothing beats drunks nights though. One minute you're in your room having shots and woo-ing like a mad woman and the next minute, you are... Okay, what happened next minute? Why won't somebody tell me? Actually you'd rather not. I don't want in detailed stories of how I embarrased myself. Let's just say two boys weren't enough to drag me back to my room. It took fours of them, a girl and a very awkward conversation in the lift. Oh btw, I was asleep when this happened. So I am in complete denial about all of this.
Clearly they couln't decide who was worse? A very annoying, shrill, shrieky, woman who kept wooooo-ing at random intervals, said way too many things, most of which made no sense at all, and embarrased a lot of other people by telling them who she wanted to set them up with (I am a matchmaker when I'm drunk). Also, I fell asleep on a random bench, somehwere along the way, with my hair all over my face. A lot of people mistook me for a ghost. Six and half shots of vodka. Two and a half shots of gin. Apparently, there is a lot alcohol can make you do.

And then I bonded with nice people, crashed random parties, spoke to a lot of people I had never spoken to before. I also danced around in circles like a mad woman on DJ night and scandalised every onlooker.

And I had decided none of this when I was packing.

I had my low-days and 'I want to kill somebody now' moments. I also, had my 'why did I come for this stupid trip?' moments.

But almost a month after the trip is over, the sweet aftertaste is all that remains.