Never go on a trip with three men if you're a woman. And a woman whose digestion is not quite decent and regular. Do not guzzle rum throughout the evening with milky tea. Do not go running towards a makeshift stage after hastily pulling on mismatched socks hoping for a Monte Carlo shirt.
Prayag goes rock climbing.
Sanjukta goes tight rope walking.
Arnab goes about pleasantly smiling and looking pleasant.
Sion grumpily glares.
Sanjukta has a legion of IIT-ian friends of friends.
Panda has acidity.
Accommodation- is 65 bucks a day in a seedy hotel called Hotel Decent. Well, actually not. It's called Tourist Lodge and has a stinky communal loo. People vomit out their innards while brushing at communal basin and fart all the bloody time. They knock on your door, you open it and find a trail of aromatic yesterday's dinner leading up to the loo. The common loo.
The Manager is called Grouchy and Prayag Ray is my brother. Of course we sign "Ray" and "Panda", having recently met at the Kumbh Mela where we had 21 years of catching up to do. Grouchy likes son papdi (I was carrying 1 kg fortification) and so I bribe him to not do his grouchiness with me.
Part 2: Stains.
I gawk at the bedsheet provided to me. "Manager kaku, ei bedsheet ta toh cholbe na! Eitaar opore yaa bodo bodo daag!" Manager Kaku to Prayag: Go to a better place if you want fancy bedsheets!
Manager kaku to Carrier-of-son-papdi: OK, I'll change it, but these stains are nothing but hair dye. (Ahona Panda was not pointing to murky black stains but dry whitish horridly suspicious stains.)
Sanju's mommy to Sanju: "You will not go to their hotel in Golbazar!"
Ahona's mommy to Ahona: "You stayed in a room that cost 65 bucks a day?! How seedy can you get? How could you do this to us?!"
Ahona while crapping alcohol+curd crap: "Why am I shitting in this loo? I want a clean commode where I can flush! I hate this! I hate this!"
Prayag: I am such a fart bomb! I was perhaps a sex bomb, but I am mostly a fart bomb now.
Sion: I am kipte first and then a hygiene-freak. I can also digest everything because I am a teetotaller.
Arnab: Life is such fun if your mindset is simple. Oh look, Sion's got a darling dimple.
Sanjukta: Poor, poor Ahona. Hmmm- now how do I manage to fit in that group of friends?
Part 3: Digestion.
Thousands of children floating through the night
Walking on Scholars Avenue, passing out of sight.
I want to be a scholar though I cannot solve a sum.
I am such a loser that I cannot digest rum.
I meet scholars who can solve all the sums ever known to man
And then make their own sums because only they can
My tummy rumbles because there is poetry in my tum
I think it is poetry though people call it rum.
i am linguistically enabled because I am made just so
But IIT makes me cry, it's the rum don't you know?
And when I drink good whisky
I appreciate the artist Kandinsky
But shit man mathematics I so neglected
And the more I reflected
I realized the levels to which I had sunk.
I was completely drunk.
P.S.- If you want to make a good turd, don't trust them when they say: trust curd.
Part 3: Money, honey and the funny bunny.
The room in which we stayed had graffiti on the walls.
Mr. Arjun Pandit- (in Hindi which I translate)- I want a girl who will understand me and whom I will understand. This is very important. She must love me and I must love her. If you are that girl, please call me- (number). The number was unavailable. Alas.
Another chant: Mmmmm Hari
and so on. (this number is not the number exact, but you get the drift.)
There was also a picture of a bus with passengers who (thankfully) had their clothes on.
Sanjukta and I won two thousand rupees. The event was midfuckingly banal and inane. IIT wanted us to write creatively in 8 minutes and 5 minutes. Alas, a short story is never a mathematical problem, but then we poor people with limited access to Scholars Avenue, who would listen to our lame laments?
Conclusion: memorable, exciting, and absolutely smashing! I learnt a lot. I also crapped in loos which would make JUDE ladies' seem like 5 star hotel stuff. All in all, the moral of the story: you can fool some of the people all the time, and all the people some of the time, but you don't need to be gifted to walk down Scholars Avenue. You just have to be sloshed, stoned and sozzled.