“Of course, yes”, Mr. Tengse exclaimed. This statement suddenly set everyone in the room in a very jubilant mood. Mr. Tengse or Kunal is my younger brother and MSians know him as “trust_me”. So when he is talking of big time celebration, we trust him. An event manager of sorts!
Now I can’t really reveal what the event was, cause I’ll have a certain rit_gary and (hic)Tic cursing me for not making them a part of this room. Next time, Gentleman’s promise. But then I was the sponsor for this gala event, some refer to as bachelor’s party (does that give you any clue, Tic?). But then events like this calls for event management – especially when the agenda is to drink like a fish or drink till you drop . Why? You have arrange for a room in the first place, that would imply a “distress” call to parents to leave for Timbuktu and a miraculous arrangement of tickets - Tatkal, make sure that they board that train. (don’t ask me which train goes to Timbuktu, please!).
Then comes the arrangement of a sumptuous meal, chicken delights, but more importantly booze and the irresistible Haldiram, peanuts, cheeselings, chakali’s, boiled chanas, papads…ahh! Now am I forgetting something….?? Of course the innate desire to learn the Art Of Desire and some real hard core stuff – like “Pyasi Chudail” or “Khuni Panja” (just kidding….though watching Ramsay’s in a drunk state is an idea worth experimenting with), but besides the “oo-aa—oo” stuff, we even got the “Police Academy”, cause laughing and drinking can be so much fun.
But then which booze?
“Chal, yaar ek crate Zingaro”, piped in one of my cousins. Poor thing, a novice amongst us, and younger too, had to settle in for several taplis and whacks.
So RC – “no we drink that far too often”
Hmm Blender’s Pride – “No Maddy says it’s for gentlemen and not for boozards.”
Green Label – “Bachelors don’t dig through tunnels!”
“Lets try something rich – that ad which has Harbhajan on the fore”, said one impatient cousin.
“Royal Stag”, came the chorus. After all it is one of the largest selling premium whisky in India, a millionaire brand of Seagram (now Pernod Ricard).
So be it! Amen!
So out came the glasses whose white translucent shade soon started looking golden brown. I just added few drops of water and began inhaling the aroma – the woody redolence! “Hello, Johny Walker naahi aahe”, Kunal happened to remind me, and poured soda in my glass and the golden brown now looking more golden yellow. Then a dash of lime (remember Rajnikant from Chaalbaaz). Whoever cares for colors! “C-H-E-E-R-S” we screamed with great glee on our faces.
Glut! Glut! Glut! Glut! Glut! Ahhhhh…that was my elder bro, who always “bottoms up” the first peg. I went Madlayla’s style…a sip…wah! Smoooooth. I enjoyed the taste and the slight warmth that I could feel in my mouth, then neck, chest. If that warmth was not there, I would have never realized that I was sipping some drink. And the malt taste…delightful may be slight vanilla flavour…I was imagining already.
After the first one was down, we decided to set some rules to ensure that no one remains sober. “Minimum 12 pegs”, my wisdom poured in the form of sound waves, “You see, this is Royal Stag – a deer species whose antlers have a minimum of 12 branches.” The initial are-you-crazy looks soon changed to a delightful “yeah”.
The Prawn fry seemed to be a more popular pick, between salted peanuts. The ambience filled with Pankaj’s drunk vibrations “Sharab cheez aisi hai, na chodi jaye…” 3 pegs later, I could feel it – the kick setting in quietly without disturbing the jubilance. I just love Royal Stag for that lighter feeling.
The fun and the kick had surprisingly made me oblivious of the stressful week I had last week - Q2 end. Lucky for me that I am not in sales. But now my hand kept reaching for the bottle. A nice rectangular bottle with a ribbon that has the words ROYAL above and as the strip spirals around the bottle the words STAG on the lower strip. The Royal antler…no what is this creature…reindeer…deer….kya hai yaar ye….ohh Stag, stag is also there on the bottle. Cheez! this one was now getting on me.
The first Khamba was now transparent, colorless. I opened up the second one even as Pankaj was discouraging us with “Mehengi bahut hai sharab, thodi thodi piya karo…”. “Oye band kar usse”, came an angry retort. “Hey Kunal is high” we kept teasing him and he kept confuting it. It was funny. All of us were slowly moving from stratosphere to ionosphere and yet each one claiming to be on ground zero. The music was off while Art of Desire was playing…and the din replaced by a sensual silence and gaping eyes. “Remember…whatever you do, do it at half the speed”, the video gave a good tip and we started drinking slowly, though I am sure that the video meant something else.
The movie was over and so was the chicken. The silent prevailed as each one went for a leak…wonder why each of them took so much time? Each one of them was now in space, including me. I went for a leak too and I realized how Neil Armstrong must have felt when he took his first step on the moon. Even MJ couldn’t beat my moonwalk.
Back again, as we rejoined our Stag…wow…I got it right this time! I decided to try a variation – a bold one. I just took it on-the-rocks. My elder bro took it neat. Yet to others surprise, none of us turned red or wet our eyes or coughed. I dunno whether it has something to do with our skills or Royal Stag’s smoothness. But now it was impossible. I was reeling. I brushed against the almost empty bottle while handling the filled glass to Kunal and the bottle started rocking. KK took over me as I began in a hoarse voice, “Nasha sharaab mein hoti to nachti bottle”. Kunal it seems highly obsessed with Matrix (like Suyog, Diskonnet, Vivek and Spooks). He began his badinage, “Look, it is not the bottle that swings, it is only you who is swinging.” I had to prove that I am no less fan of Matrix.
So I snatched the bottle, emptied it neat and added, “Just try to realize the truth that there is no bottle”.