(Guys, writing after a long gap. Lost touch. But anyway (try to) enjoy it :) )
“Damn… These mosquitoes….. Dude, I'm not able to sleep at all.” Roshan almost cried.
“Think about your ex, think about the day you got your board exam results and the day your neighbour’s dog bit you…..” I went on like a ‘Reality Show’ judge..
“Shut up. Oh my god, you just ruined my night’s sleep.” Roshan sat up trying to forget everything that I had told him to recollect. He shook his head and continued- “Okay. Now tell me, how to get rid of these mosquitoes? Man, they come close to my ears and make stupid sounds.”
“You’ve got to take revenge on them man. Show them your man-ness.”
“But how??” Roshan said, though the ‘how’ was dragged so much that it sounded like a wolf’s howl.
I stood and marched to the cupboard to fetch my CD pouch, slipped out an audio CD from it and passed it on to Roshan- “Take this.”
“Latest Hits OF Himesh Reshammia?”
“Yup. What better way to take revenge on those mosquitoes uh??”
He kicked me hard after which he hurt his toe, howled like a wolf again and went back to his bed. I mean, any mad fan of Himesh would have done the same. All was well from my side, as eventually I had ended up irritating him more than those little useless mosquitoes.
An hour later……
I noticed Roshan sitting against me wearing one of those Shilpa Shetty’s fake IPL smiles. He growled - “You ruined my sleep you idiot.”
I returned a girlish smile, which pissed him off even more. He pulled my blanket out as if he was planning to strip me, but just said, rather ordered- “We are going for a ride. Get up.”
Cruising at a high speed, there we were, on the streets of Bangalore as the clock struck 2 in the morning. We rode along as the cold breeze tickled our ears, the silence around gave a becalming effect and the blood pressures raised with every turn he took. I yelled at him from the rear seat- “Ride carefully. I almost met god last time I sat behind you.”
“You are not on the pavement, so you are safe.” He yelled back.
I didn’t actually quite stab him but I was tempted to say – “Go to hell” but again, I was intelligent enough to hold it back realising the irony that it would present considering that I was sitting behind him.
Anyway, finally Roshan spotted the brakes and the bike was brought to rest. I realised that we had tripped 10kms in pursuit of a cigarette. His wafer-thin wallet had enough in it to afford a cigarette for him and a cool-drink for me. He gazed strenuously at me and enquired out of frustration – “When will you grow up?”
“I read about the evils of smoking, I gave up smoking.” I smiled.
“I read about the evils of smoking, I gave up reading.” He smiled.
I returned the stare like I had glasses slipping from the tip of my nose. He continued gazing at me, now like a devil with his face engulfed in smoke. I continued with my cool-drink, staring at the sky as he continued puffing away smoke staring at street dogs. Just as it was getting boring, a girl wearing pants which almost started from her thighs came by and asked Roshan- “What kinda' person are you?”
“Who? Me?” Roshan bulged his eyes showing excitement as he hid his tautness.
“Yes baby.” She smiled.
“I’m basically a diplomatic person.” Roshan replied in a way which reminded me of my class 10, slightly eccentric Maths teacher.
“If you think, completing your ‘diploma’ course is what is being ‘diplomatic’ then you are wrong you stupid.” I said clamorously busy staring at ‘nothing’.
The girl, an intelligent one I concluded, turned to me and asked me straight- “You want that stuff?” as she dug out a packet of a whitish powder from her bore well sized pocket. Roshan, who was aghast at seeing her with drugs, leapt on to the bike and threw it into ignition and rustled –“ Dude, come over. Fast.” I walked to the bike with one eye fixed to the girl ( like James Bond), said- “ Tell me if that powder doesn’t work, I have a CD of Himesh Reshammia’s latest hits” and off we went as Roshan played with the accelerator putting the lives of street dogs into jeopardy.
As we reached home, Roshan went into a mood where he sounded like a retired senior citizen, with his ears being fed with some ‘latest hits’ of those silly mosquitoes. He went on and on with his morality talks, which reminded me of a line – “If electricity comes from electrons does it mean morality comes from morons?” Anyway, that’s when I realised that there are worse things in life than death, spending an evening (sounds better than ‘night’) with Roshan.