All not quiet on the Western Front

 

 

Chapter 1: I have a dream 

Finally the day had arrived where I could be myself.  I could do all that I ever wished to do, realize a dream which if unrealized would long haunt me to death. I had everything in place and I just had to pull the trigger. I knew my desires would be oppressed as they have been ever since I smelt the soil of this land, redolent of an Eden. But that day I had pulled myself up , pulled  my socks up, pulled up everything that could be pulled, pushed down everything that could be pushed except for my dream and undying spirit. I, with great courage and utmost determination which has always been the hallmark of great revolutionary leaders, pulled out my cell phone from my pocket, dialed my friend’s number and asked him to accompany me to a pub. That was a point of no return, he couldn’t tolerant my perseverance and finally my friend, who stands on the opposite side of the spectrum as I do when it comes to drinking, had to cower accepting my demands.

 

That was how we landed in the Café Mondegar (hope I spelt it right). We got ourselves what I always wanted to; drinking Cobra, Budweiser and Tiger on the same day. We took the day slowly; we took the drinks slowly until we realized that there were three girls sitting right next to us and who seemed interesting. Of course we concluded that they were interesting because they were matching us in every step, every drink that we ordered. We were three, they were three single ladies and we decided to dive ourselves into something that eventually turned out to be a mess up.

 

Chapter 2: My friends said

 

My friends said I had to give the ‘freedom speech’ yet again and it was time for me to pull my weight. But I insisted it was time for someone to take over the responsibility and how glad was I when I saw my friend putting his hand up. My friend then went through a myriad of options, he came up with countless pick up lines, I for one had never seen him thinking so brilliantly under pressure. He even came up with the idea of writing his lines on a tissue rather than blurting them out. Though I failed to understand the logic behind such a pick up I excused him for that day as he was half way through the stairway to heaven by then. Finally my friend gathered the courage to ask them about a disc, they were more than willing to give away all the information about the discs in that area but had not shown an iota of interest in accompanying us. So we let them go, rather they sped away from there. This was my freedom day, how could I end it so badly, I suggested that we should hunt for a disc which would allow stags.

 

Chapter 3: So then we began

 

So then we began our earnest search to find a disc which would give us an entry. All our efforts were in vain as all the bouncers at the discs would brush away with their little fingers. We waited at one particular disc hoping that a few girls would lose their minds to come to the disc all by themselves without a huge guy taking care of them. We had fun time just gawking at some of them, but we had the hollowness in us just like a hunter would have when all he can do is just admire his prey from a distance. 

 

Chapter 4: Unbreakable 

 

Unbreakable was the word which could have perhaps best described our optimism that day.  “We need to do better than this” said my friend. The rest nodded, fearing to go against that opinion for one might have been tagged as a spoilsport if the opinion differed. So I called up my friend to see if we could after all get to see light at the end of the tunnel. My friend dropped in the name of a disc which showed some mercy on stags.

Red Light that was the name. That day it appeared to us that the name could be associated only with the disc that we were in search for. We went about the final phase of our ‘glorious day’ asking the taxi drivers for the address. We never, for once, mentioned to the taxi drivers that we were looking for a disc by that name. Hence what ensued should be quite predictable. We were led into dark streets which had the foulest smell one would want to avoid. Our optimism was never shattered until we came across huge walls which read ‘prohibited area’. We suddenly became sober; we realized where we ended up and took the first taxi back home.