we came to the ocean and then he looked at me and said, it's not pretty.
I dropped by my uncle's place tonight. My aunt and him were the only ones who bought a christmas tree, lit it up and piled presents up underneath it. They gave them out to their neighbours and us. It was their practice though to call every one of us a couple of nights before christmas to ask us what we wanted exactly. So it was no mystery what was wrapped around by pretty paper.
The same uncle became my best friend tonight too. I came to know of his secret stash of bailey's, vodka, chivas and all sorts of liqueur- all given to him by his friends at all those parties and gatherings they threw. He had this shiny bottle of absolut vodka. It was a collectible of course, and it shimmered like a disco ball. And so, i asked him to pour me a couple of drinks, even though the rest of the family was around too. Surprisingly the rest of my uncles said "you must try and experience it" and they reminisced about their national service days when they used to drink in their messes during happy hours (which they still do have at all camps). This uncle told me he had to be carried out by two of the guards and his dad picked him up, brought him home and just threw him down on the sofa - left him to his own devices.
It was also tonight that I learnt, through my uncles of course, that my dad lived by this motto when it came to drinking - "if you ever want to drink, drink to your heart's content, drink it with full cups and in gulps, and not sporadic sips". And I thought, maybe someday a son who feels estranged from his own lot and disconnected from his dad in more ways than one could reach out to him over mugs of beer and for a while, share his own world with him, and perhaps the reverse would happen too.
That sounded like a crazy idea. I had many crazy thoughts coming into my mind. I had drunk 3 cups. My uncle was obliging enough. I mixed them up with milk and lime juice, so i could down them easily, thinking it was just well, milk and lime juice.
My cousins and uncles and aunts thought i was funny and I was nibbling on my jacket, balancing on the arm of the sofa. They didn't holler at all. They indeed were nice. Very accepting. I was only mildly drunk. It felt warm under my ears for a while, and if i was fairer, I knew i'd be flushed. Then it disappeared for a bit and i ambled my way down to my uncle's car. Then I declared, "i feel nauseous". My aunt shoved a plastic bag in my way but i repeated, i wasn't going to throw it all out anytime soon. All the food i had at a barbeque - the gorgeous stingray and the unforgettable hot dogs that tasted abit off. My uncle, whose car I was meant to be on then told me, "don't you dare vomit in my car". This coming from an uncle who'd get mad at the whole world before collapsing if he found a scratch on his car. A case of single milimetre scratch wouldn't be swept under the carpet. It was war.
In the end, I just went into another uncle's car. They talked throughout the ride, while I just asked, who that girl sitting in the corner was.
"He's definitely maabo", my aunt announced. After which, a couple of unintended revelations about my life.
A couple of minutes later, they talked about religious miracles involving this temple which I remember going to, faithfully, on Sundays in 2004. Flashbacks and comparisons - then and now.
I scoffed at myself and at them. I was glad to be mildly off in the head I was riding a horse on the British highlands.
I felt sorry for myself, more than ever before.
The same uncle became my best friend tonight too. I came to know of his secret stash of bailey's, vodka, chivas and all sorts of liqueur- all given to him by his friends at all those parties and gatherings they threw. He had this shiny bottle of absolut vodka. It was a collectible of course, and it shimmered like a disco ball. And so, i asked him to pour me a couple of drinks, even though the rest of the family was around too. Surprisingly the rest of my uncles said "you must try and experience it" and they reminisced about their national service days when they used to drink in their messes during happy hours (which they still do have at all camps). This uncle told me he had to be carried out by two of the guards and his dad picked him up, brought him home and just threw him down on the sofa - left him to his own devices.
It was also tonight that I learnt, through my uncles of course, that my dad lived by this motto when it came to drinking - "if you ever want to drink, drink to your heart's content, drink it with full cups and in gulps, and not sporadic sips". And I thought, maybe someday a son who feels estranged from his own lot and disconnected from his dad in more ways than one could reach out to him over mugs of beer and for a while, share his own world with him, and perhaps the reverse would happen too.
That sounded like a crazy idea. I had many crazy thoughts coming into my mind. I had drunk 3 cups. My uncle was obliging enough. I mixed them up with milk and lime juice, so i could down them easily, thinking it was just well, milk and lime juice.
My cousins and uncles and aunts thought i was funny and I was nibbling on my jacket, balancing on the arm of the sofa. They didn't holler at all. They indeed were nice. Very accepting. I was only mildly drunk. It felt warm under my ears for a while, and if i was fairer, I knew i'd be flushed. Then it disappeared for a bit and i ambled my way down to my uncle's car. Then I declared, "i feel nauseous". My aunt shoved a plastic bag in my way but i repeated, i wasn't going to throw it all out anytime soon. All the food i had at a barbeque - the gorgeous stingray and the unforgettable hot dogs that tasted abit off. My uncle, whose car I was meant to be on then told me, "don't you dare vomit in my car". This coming from an uncle who'd get mad at the whole world before collapsing if he found a scratch on his car. A case of single milimetre scratch wouldn't be swept under the carpet. It was war.
In the end, I just went into another uncle's car. They talked throughout the ride, while I just asked, who that girl sitting in the corner was.
"He's definitely maabo", my aunt announced. After which, a couple of unintended revelations about my life.
A couple of minutes later, they talked about religious miracles involving this temple which I remember going to, faithfully, on Sundays in 2004. Flashbacks and comparisons - then and now.
I scoffed at myself and at them. I was glad to be mildly off in the head I was riding a horse on the British highlands.
I felt sorry for myself, more than ever before.