Tag Archives: Drunk

Day 8: The moment I felt most satisfied with my life

The Moment I felt most satisfied with my life, Today’s Challenge made me smile like a retard. Isn’t it weird that we run behind such monumental things all our lives only to be content with the tiny ones, It’s the small things that make a difference.

Small things and Big money. ( The Clash between the idealist in me and the struggling-student-in-a-third-world-country in me is crazy)
The moment, The moment when I felt satisfied. MOST SATISFIED but not exhilarated, or exuberant, The moment I felt truly content was sometime last December. Oddly enough it wasn’t when I got my tattoo, or got a kick-ass college or when I got a car ( luls. because I don’t have a car :P) or even post-mindblowing- sex. I did feel satisfied but … It was sometime last December.
I went back to Pune, the city I completed my last two years of schooling from (also grade 6,7 and 8) The city where my brother and mother were and where my friends still are.  So I went back home after my Semester end exams.


One day, out of the blue I planned to go over to a friend’s place for the night, her mother was going to be out of town and we had planned to call our friends over get drunk or high, or both and just chill and catch up.  (Note: This was also the night when I puked for the first time after drinking, I drink a lot but don’t puke. I’d never puked before that and have never puked after that. It was just a sudden whiskey shot {I hate shots!} and it just came up and I puked in my hand, splattered some on my friend’s face too but hey! It’s okay, right?)

We sneaked the guys in around mid-night, they had to jump over a hedge and everything, in order to hide from her neighbours. So by 1-1:30 we had finished a bottle of whiskey
and were done with the second round of joints. With their inhibitions low, one of them was sitting on her bed-crosslegged staring at the wall, my musical friend was strumming on his
guitar, the third one was crushing some stuff for the bong and giggling, another was playing with my hair and pulling it, while I sat on the floor in the weird way that I sit while my friend whose house it was leaned against the wall, her clothes falling off her, her gorgeous hair spilled all over laughing at us.


And then, my musical friend started strumming ‘sutta ‘ (sutta is Hindi, or modernised Hindi for cigarette) , it’s like Indianised, explicitised collegey Summer of 69 or something on those
lines It’s legendary that song!, anywho he started playing it, humming alongside and all of us started singing with him on the top of our lungs. We were screaming (we weren’t supposed to because the neighbours could hear everything and my friend, along with all of us could get into trouble) but we sang. we sang all three verses, the chorus, the guitar riff and we smiled at each other, and we laughed. And God, in that moment I swear we were infinite. It felt so pure and simple. I have sung songs in my hoarse voice hundred of times, but there was something about that moment. I remember looking at each one of them, individually and I could feel them and see the spark in their eyes.
They felt it too, I hope. Jesus, I was content. satisfied. Happy. I wasn’t with all of my ‘official best friends’ (I’m lame, that way.) but was with some of the best of my friends,
I was in a room full of people I loved, I love with all my heart and soul.

I forgot, we forgot about things. About pending assignments, getting screwed, our parents finding out about our whereabouts, about the unpredictable future and deteriorating grades, about hating college and not having girlfriends or boyfriends.
We were high, high enough to feel things we hadn’t felt but not high enough to zone out (that happened later that night!) so that amplified our emotions, but good lord I felt like charlie, when he heard the tunnel song. I had this fleeting thought, where I realised how content I was there, in that moment and that place, It was then and there that I realised that it was home, that those people were home.
That moment was home.

We didn’t do anything monumental, we almost got into very serious trouble, we didn’t do anything illegal (ok. heh. underage drinking and substance abuse doesn’t count.
occasional, recreational drug abuse is okay. okay?) We were just a couple of 18 year olds, with an old guitar and no adult supervision.

And In that moment, I swear we were infinite.

Drunk rant.

It’s okay?

Is it? Is it okay to be mediocre and live a life that everyone once lives. Leave no mark, leave no scar. Grow up, do what’s right, do what you are supposed to, get married,  make babies and die? Is that all we exist for?

I am scared. of the ordinary life, the 9-5 job, the marriage, the kids and all the other things I’m supposed to do. I believe in things which I am not supposed to, I live for things which aren’t of any importance.

Ideas are bulletproof, but dreams aren’t.

Dreams are for those who can’t sleep

and if you ask me to lie, I shan’t

For If I lie, I’ll weep

Life goes on they say

It does, I know.

It moves it’s own way’

and I wish I could let it go.

I wish I could live up

to their dreams and fantasies,

I wish I could cross the green seas.

Where the pirates roll,

The mermaids kill.

The stars fall,

And people will,

To change the world,

To dream, of things unknown and unseen,

To dream of things impossible which can be made real,

for the days long gone,

and the nights too short,

for those poeple we mourn,

for and the things we lost.

For the dreams we dreamt of before we could rhyme

For those beings we begged for, before they were mine.

For those cities we visited,

and the people we loved.

For those towers we conquered

and the cities we wrecked

We are the people,

The beings the friends,

We are the people

Who’ll last till the end,