The night of 1st August, a few days before we were to meet
Missy had called me at around 10 pm, and told that her roommates had opened the last bottle of whisky they had saved during her birthday celebrations last weekend.
It was a friend’s birthday on the 2nd (next day), and in our college, birthdays are traditionally celebrated with birthday bumps…
Except, it’s not bumps, rather ruthless butt-kicking, etc., a.k.a.-‘GPL’. Here’s a link you may follow if you didn’t get the idea.
By around midnight, amidst the screams and a violent birthday bumps session in progress here, Missy had been drinking in her PG…
As the screams receded to the background, Missy called me up. She was uncomfortable and heated up with the alcohol within. She was sitting in her balcony, drunk and sobbing throughout the call.
I’ve had to handle drunk people earlier, but a crying woman ? Nooo !!
‘God! Of all the women out there, why assign me a drunk one !!!’
As time passed, she began speaking her heart out. About her first crush, first drinking, the white spots on her feet and how everybody took it to be a Satanic signal, her best friends, her parents love, her sister’s marriage, and a lot more… Hours passed by one by one listening to her and occasionally pacifying her. The incessant sobbing made her voice childish and cute, but often indecipherable.
Around 2:30 am, her mood elevated a bit. Once she started singing a new hit ‘Breakup Party’ from an indigenous rapper. And it was the first time in the last few hours that she didn’t cry.
And here’s a fact, that she conveniently forgot. She made me promise that when we met, she’d ask me to sing a song for her, and that I’d sing one for her, no excuses. The next morning when she woke up, she asked me a million times about the happenings of the night, but I gave her no hints of this particular promise whatsoever.
Though my hate for drunk people remains, but I guess everybody has the right to let out themselves sometimes. Sometimes, I wish I could be like her drunk self. No worries of the outcome, being kiddish, and blurting out all complaints and miseries open-heartedly.
After ‘telephonically’ guiding her to her bed, and instructing her to sleep, when I came back to my room, it was 3:37 am !!