Not our place

On Friday night, we found ourselves in a Touch party but we failed to lose ourselves there. As we have already seen with the Gentleman’s Club, names can be misleading. I’ll come to that later. At first, Pulkit’s aims were high, but he too blew a fuse once at Mojito (that’s the name of the nightclub where the party was on). There was just a lot of skin show, and people did just two things, drank and danced. A normal middle-aged middle-class Indian would have easily fainted here.

The four of us initially had no clue what to do. But once again, yours truly, rose to the occasion, taking the initiative and going ahead to meet a stranger with Pagla Dasu-like hair, completely ignorant of the customs (as if he cared) and perfectly open about his ignorance. The stranger had a partner and both, as I realized soon, were two Barneys. (If you are around my age and have access to TV and you don’t know who Barney is, then you’ll not get a better reason to drown yourself) They wanted me to hit on the girls. I asked them to show me the way first. And while one of them was doing so, I tried to slip away, but all of a sudden the other guy introduced me to a girl, by the “Have you met X?” method. It was difficult to talk anyway, with loud music blaring, and I kinda lip-read her that I should take a drink. I told her to suggest one. She did so but I couldn’t get the pronunciation correct. I asked her about the origin of the word ‘touch’ for today’s party (for the past few days, no one could answer it properly. Some people smiled crookedly probably at some improper interpretations of the word) Anyway, the real meaning was that the party was for people who play touch football at the university. She introduced me to some more people, and by then I had realized that all that the people were talking about was just introducing one person to another. So I too called upon my mates to introduce them to the girl and her friends but at this point of time after calling them I forgot her name. (How am I expected to remember a word that I heard only once and which is just like another variable_name?)

With the beer bottle in my hand I looked more occupied. (I read the name on it properly, Quilmes it was) The Barneys came around again to teach me a few dance steps. At this point, Kartik too tried to join in. Now, I don’t know, I may be pathetic at dancing, but Kartik was simply hopeless. It straightaway reminded me of NCC. …. I could not control myself from ordering him to stop marching.

After one hour, we had had enough of the place. So we quit.