Drinking life to the lees....
"Let the cup brimmeth over..." This has been my motto the past two weeks... the weekends mostly spent in hazy, hallucinating, 'spiritual' stupor. First, there was the trip to the MGM beach resort, then the rocking evening at Zarra's, making my conscience speak to me inexplicably in Hindi "Zarra hatke, Zarra bachke, yeh hai Chennai, meri jaan'.
Well, now that my futile attempt at making a funny punny comment has met with a very sad but expected demise, let me delve a bit deeper into the MGM party. We enjoy parties: good food at an expensive Tandoor/Chinese joint followed by drunken hollering and valiant but failed attempts at dancing (rather wriggling one's rear), waking up next morning with a horrible hangover, tortured stomach and constipated mood. But, it was getting a touch predictable and a shade tiring, so we were thinking of doing something different this time for a change.
So we did, finally, after much debate and tug of war. The core gang set sail around 1:30 pm towards MGM grand and reached around 2:30. A sumptuous buffet followed, accompanied by a few starting beers. This was followed up by one hour of pure idling around at the beach, feeling the cool spray of the friendly waves lapping near our feet and, as has become almost customary in Chennai of late, a light drizzle with the backdrop of a cloudy, cool and pleasant sky. A game of volleyball took place next, the intensely competitive spirit and enormously enthusiastic participation drowning the slight lack of skill if one were to point fingers. After a barrage of sledging, high tempers and even public domestic quarrels (shame on you, Baba), the game was finally stopped, the sun having gone into hiding, apprehensive at the tumultous goings-on and frayed tempers of the rather-extraordinary mortals participating in the do-or-die fight to death. We travelled to Moonrakers next, a revered sea food joint. A few lavish rounds of drinks and eminently edible sea-food cuisine including tiger prawns, jhingas, squids, fish etc. were consumed in record time by hungry, gluttonous barbarians while the non-violent vegetarians looked on in distaste and acute helplessness, stunned at the latent viciousness and blood-thristy strain in their non-veg acquaintances, who they had hitherto termed as friends. Then a cool and speedy car ride back to good old Chennai, back to its wet, drenching, leaky-sky self. A few arguments/debates ensued on whether going to Matchpoint was a good idea then, but the idea was finally shelved for another time.
About Zarra's, well, not much needs to be said other than the fact that the party was fun, rocking, drunken, blurry, loud, taquilla-shots filled and thoroughly, immensely enjoyable, which is a gross understatement. For the rest of the details, please contact the frightened waiters. We were too sloshed to remember anything more.
Well, now that my futile attempt at making a funny punny comment has met with a very sad but expected demise, let me delve a bit deeper into the MGM party. We enjoy parties: good food at an expensive Tandoor/Chinese joint followed by drunken hollering and valiant but failed attempts at dancing (rather wriggling one's rear), waking up next morning with a horrible hangover, tortured stomach and constipated mood. But, it was getting a touch predictable and a shade tiring, so we were thinking of doing something different this time for a change.
So we did, finally, after much debate and tug of war. The core gang set sail around 1:30 pm towards MGM grand and reached around 2:30. A sumptuous buffet followed, accompanied by a few starting beers. This was followed up by one hour of pure idling around at the beach, feeling the cool spray of the friendly waves lapping near our feet and, as has become almost customary in Chennai of late, a light drizzle with the backdrop of a cloudy, cool and pleasant sky. A game of volleyball took place next, the intensely competitive spirit and enormously enthusiastic participation drowning the slight lack of skill if one were to point fingers. After a barrage of sledging, high tempers and even public domestic quarrels (shame on you, Baba), the game was finally stopped, the sun having gone into hiding, apprehensive at the tumultous goings-on and frayed tempers of the rather-extraordinary mortals participating in the do-or-die fight to death. We travelled to Moonrakers next, a revered sea food joint. A few lavish rounds of drinks and eminently edible sea-food cuisine including tiger prawns, jhingas, squids, fish etc. were consumed in record time by hungry, gluttonous barbarians while the non-violent vegetarians looked on in distaste and acute helplessness, stunned at the latent viciousness and blood-thristy strain in their non-veg acquaintances, who they had hitherto termed as friends. Then a cool and speedy car ride back to good old Chennai, back to its wet, drenching, leaky-sky self. A few arguments/debates ensued on whether going to Matchpoint was a good idea then, but the idea was finally shelved for another time.
About Zarra's, well, not much needs to be said other than the fact that the party was fun, rocking, drunken, blurry, loud, taquilla-shots filled and thoroughly, immensely enjoyable, which is a gross understatement. For the rest of the details, please contact the frightened waiters. We were too sloshed to remember anything more.