Sleeplessness Blues

So, obviously, I am not sleepy. Dunno why. Not something that happens regularly for sure. Maybe I am too keyed up after watching the latest episode of Dexter, or maybe it is the Amritsari Chicken I had for dinner doing cartwheels in my intestines. Endlessly we can speculate, yet nary an answer would be forthcoming. Bottomline, here I am again pouring my words of wisdom out onto this blank canvas while the minutes tick down to another mundane day of earning my daily bread.

I wish I had some startling insight to share at this point. I really do. But most I can do right now is the predictable bickering and bitching about mundane existences and passionate dreams. I am no closer to achieving the latter than the nth-minus one post that mentioned the same. Bit-by-bit, brick-by-brick I hope to make some headway. No miracles happening in the near future at least though. There are more pressing matters of the career and personal life kind to joust with. No scope for day-dreaming at the moment and certainly no need for this random insomnia that is afflicting me now. But I am used to this also now, like I get used to pretty much anything fate throws my way. A gift that, a curse many times, but it is who I am. I accommodate. I adjust. I adapt.

Before I go off on yet another ego trip, I'd like to take a moment to talk about love. Love is a many-splendid thing that takes you to the heights of ecstasy and the depths of despair with the same breath. It is the opium that overrides my senses even when I try to resist it. It rends me apart, stitches me whole again and churns me inside out and round and round till there is nothing left but a quivering mass of jelly that has just enough backbone not to melt into a puddle. It is a crazy heady maddening drug that tints the most ordinary of days in a hazy rosy frame and leaves a smile every time I think about it. God knows why I am up at this time talking about love of all things, but then again maybe that is why I am up in the first place. Who knows! One glimpse of those bewitching eyes and I am always down for the count.  

I would now like to expound on money. A beautiful invention this and the most intricate bit of chicanery ever devised by man. Who knew little bits of metal, paper and plastic can make the world go around and drive men, women, children and geriatrics alike insane! Who knew I'd be devoting so much time, effort, energy and education to understanding the mechanics and hydraulics of the humongous machine that churns and re-churns these thingamajigs to which suited-booted acolytes pay their obeisances in every nook and cranny of the world! Races, castes, colours, creeds; all united in the single overpowering pursuit of more and more and more money. It is never enough. You want to step off the carousel and call it a day, but you can't, you never can. It is is the spider in the web, the puppeteer that pulls the strings of us marionettes. It is, always has and always will be not the means to the end but the end itself. I'm no stranger to its lure. I am not some hermit living in a cave who has the requisite self-control. The more of the stuff the better is what I say. If everyone is doing it then what's wrong with joining the bandwagon! Someday, one day, I will have just about enough to call it quits and cock a snook at everyone. That's the plan anyway, though plans have a nasty way of crumbling into nothingness at the slightest provocation. The carousel never loses its sparkle anyway; it just keeps shining brighter and brighter with every spin and entices you deeper and deeper into the vortex. 

Finally, since my eyelids are actually drooping a bit now, I want to talk about writing, about words and sentences and prose and poetry and letters and reports and presentations and everything else under the sun that requires me to put finger on key and type serpentine characters in a frenzy. Before I sat up in the middle of the night and decided to babble this was a pristine white page, something infinite in its possibility yet tragic in its emptiness. My heart soared and sobbed at the same time. I wanted to give it succor, to give it a purpose , a meaning even. At the same time I rejoiced at the multitude of paths that lay ahead of me. I could choose any one, hack through whichever thicket I wanted, ford streams and cross bridges whenever I fancied. I could create a sonnet of soaring beauty or a soliloquy of breathtaking melancholy. I could be a poet, a troubadour, a minstrel to the masses if you please; or a terse succinct commentator of the whims and fancies of life. It goes to my head this feeling, makes me fizz and crackle with electricity. My hand is but an extension of my mind now, nary a gap between genesis and imprint of thought. And as I look at what all I wrote at this ungodly hour I can't help but marvel at the beauty of this symbiotic relationship. It is like a window to my own soul. Every time I put the final punctuation with an exaggerated flourish I learn a little bit more about myself. It is something I should do more often instead of these sporadic late night trysts. I wish I had a nickel for every time I said that.

Any more beyond this point and workplace productivity will surely go for a toss. It is this toil after all that keeps the hearth warm and food on the table. I foresee a procession of tea cups in my near future though. Ah, the joys of adult life! The aquavit exchanged for the tea bag, the shot glass for a chipped ceramic mug. Travails I guess, but necessary nonetheless. For everything else, there are those bewitching eyes. 

Last Call

"Repeat?"

"Repeat repeat. God yes repeat!"

"Repeat barkeep!"

"Yes sir."

The solicitous barkeep went to get the necessary victuals. Ravi turned to his friend Manoj who was staring fixedly at an imitation swordfish mounted on the wall. 

"Beaut, innit?"

"Hunh?" Manoj muttered.

"A whopper that."

"Whopper what? What the hell is a whopper?"

"Big. Huge. Massive. You know, whopper. It is also Burger King's signature burger, but that's not relevant here."

"A burger? You want  me to have a burger?"

"No no. I was just trying to make a point about the fish."

"What fish?"

"That fish, the one staring pie-eyed at us from the wall," Ravi emphasized, pointing at the artifact for added effect.

"I don't see any fish!"

"It's right there! You are looking at it!"

"Am I?"

"Oh for the love of...wait. You wearing your glasses?"

"Nope."

"Why the hell are you not wearing your glasses? You are blind as a bat without them!"

"Because she hated them. She said I looked like a dyspeptic mole!"

"Dyspeptic? Really?"
"I was going through some stomach troubles then. Still am actually."
"Save it. Spare me your hypochondriac spiel. You are visually challenged my friend, and quite severely at that. You shouldn't be taking such frivolous fashion advice, especially from your ex."

Ravi felt like kicking himself as soon as he said 'ex'. It was too raw a wound. Manoj had already started slouching further into his seat, almost as if he was shrinking right in front of his eyes. His lips were also quivering in the 'about to bawl like a baby and make a scene' mode, and God knew he had had enough of that! He had almost physically dragged his friend across town and had practically plonked him in this relatively nondescript watering hole simply because no one they knew would come here in their right mind. And what thanks he got for all this effort? Zilch! Nada! The buffoon was even now tearing up again like a two year old who had pooped his pants.

He frantically scrabbled at the spectacles case lying on the counter-top and fished out the missing spectacles, which he then jammed them down emphatically on the bridge of Manoj's nose.
"OWWW! What the fuck!" yelled Manoj, rudely brought back to his senses by this physical assault.
"Ah put a sock in it. I did you a favour!"
"How the hell did almost breaking my nose do me a friggin' favour!"
"Look there?"
"Where?"
"There."
"At that fish?"
"See? Favour done!"
"Oh for the love of...what is wrong with you!"
"Actually, now that you are mentioning it I have this weird kind of itch in my crotch, a certain kind of dryness almost. That region almost seems parched. Maybe you can go down and help a bit there."
"Screw you dickhead!"
"Up yours shitface! Now shut up and down that drink in front of you this instant!"
"Of course I will down it! You think I am some pansy? I will show you!"

Hence they proceeded to down that round. And another round. And another round. And so on and so forth, since there wasn't much else to do in that place anyway. A pool table or two might have distracted those two from getting cirrhosis of the liver, but this was a no-nonsense bare bones kind of establishment that was proud to be journey's end for the already and soon-to-be inebriated and didn't brook any of this fancy-schamncy stuff. There were also no jolly drunk strangers to strike up a conversation with. This bar in fact seemed to be propped up only on their custom since the next nearest thing to a customer they had at the moment was a stray cat that was lapping up some suspicious stain on the floor. Ravi took pity on this forager around shot #6 and immediately ordered shot #7 to add some variety to the critter's life. His motor functions were not working properly though and he ended up pouring it all over the cat. The worthy animal then hopped around in indignation for a minute or so before settling down in a corner far away from Ravi. It seemed to be licking its paws rather fondly though, so all this tomfoolery was probably not in vain.

By shot #9 the world was definitely doing weird things to Manoj. Sorely tried as he was by the vagaries of human relationships, he was now being subjected to a veritable kaleidoscope of colours and images intermingling with each other in some weird mish-mash that was making his head hurt. Or maybe that was the alcohol. Or maybe both. Anyway, he was not feeling in top form to deal with the world. His hand was clamped in a death-grip around the now-empty shot glass as if it was his only tether to this mortal realm, while the bartender did the shimmy at fantastically impossible angles. And Ravi, O Ravi, his dear and faithful friend! He had well and truly lost it! What else could explain his frequent apparations and disapparations! One second he was there grinning like an idiot, and the next poof! Gone! And then poof again! Back! On and on and on he did this, each time reappearing with the same drunken grin smeared across his face. The Cheshire Cat couldn't hold a candle to this miracle man!

"Oi!"
"Hmmmmmm?" the apparition replied before blinking out of existence again.
"How you doing...that!"
"That whaaaatttt?" the voice slurred, an instant before the face reappeared.
"This. This this this!"
"I don't...hic!...have a friggin'...I said I don't have an idea...what I mean to say is...hehe."
"There! See? You did that again!"
"Did what?"
"Disappeared!"
"Dissh..dishh...dishhapppeared?"
"Yeshh...I mean yes...how?"
"I don't know!...hehe."
"You don't?" Manoj asked incredulously.
"Nope...hic...not a clue!"
"But you are doing it! How the hell can you do something and not have an idea how!"
"Do you fart?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"How? What do you mean how?"
"How do you fart?"
"What kind of a question is that!"
"Hey...burp!...you were the one who shaaaid it."
"Shaaid what?"
"That you know how you do what you do. So temme...hic!...how do you fart?"

Manoj was stymied at this juncture. It seemed a devilishly simple question this, for even though he was not trained in the science of the human body surely this was purely a question of deductive reasoning and some imagination! How indeed does a man expel gas? How does anything expel gas for the matter? Surely this was a trifling question! Even now the answer should be coalescing and bursting forth with blinding luminosity into his cerebrum (or cerebellum, he was never sure which one). But it wasn't, and that left him even more bewildered at the state of things. He huffed and puffed and could have actually farted for all the good that it did him. His brain had shut shop and left the building.

"Hehehe."
Manoj cast a jaundiced eye at his friend who was grinning from ear to ear. The apparation-disapparation act had finally been played out it seemed, for he was trying to stand on four legs now and struggling mightily with at least three of them.
"You look funny doing that", he said disapprovingly.
"And you look like a baboon, but who's complaining!"
"You're getting on my nerves mate you are."
"Surely you are 'farting' about it. Hee hee!"
"I'm warning you dude. I'm in a bad mood."
"And I'm in a 'bar' mood. Hee hee hee!" laughing so hard this time that he almost toppled over.
"Stop it man. I'll hit you!"
"Hit me?"
"Yes hit you!"

Ravi quit his calisthenics for the moment and come back squarely to terra firma. He had started the night out as a firm shoulder to cry on, but that mission statement seemed to have been forgotten in the colorful alcohol haze that was making him giddy from head to toe. This threat of physical harm though brought it back squarely into focus again. Here he was, he thought, being a friend in need and shit and here was this thankless no-good bastard who was actually threatening to hit him! Who died and made him king hunh! The nerve of the guy!

"Did you just say," Ravi began, his voice firm and resolute, "that you, are going to hit me?"
"Yes. That's exactly what I said."
"Why?" he inquired, trying to find some rationale.
"Felt like it."
"Felt like it? FELT LIKE IT?"
"Yup."
"What do you mean felt like it?"
"I meant that you are here, you look positively repulsive and morally reprehensible, plus you are irritating the hell out of me with your fart jokes. So I'm gonna hit you."
"Really?"
"Yup. Before I thought I'd just threaten you so that you mend your ways, but the idea of beating you black and blue just keeps getting more and more exciting."
"Be careful what you are saying Manoj," Ravi threatened, "else you will come to regret it."
"Who'll make me regret it? You? Hah! You can't even stand on all fours!"
"What?"
"You can't stand on all fours!"
"What 'all fours'? I'm all twos!"
"Exactly! You're not even worth all fours!"
"You're not worth all fours!"
"No you aren't!"
"No you!"
"No you!"
"You!"
"You!"
"AAAAAARRRGGGH!"
"AAAAAARRRGGGH!"

And thus, war ululations in place, they pounced on each other. Rather, they tried to pounce on each other with hilarious results. Manoj got entangled in the bar stool he was sitting on and came crashing into Ravi who was in mid-leap. The resultant tangle of arms and legs rolled a few meters across the floor before coming to rest next to the cat. Now this cat had been sorely tried by this duo. All it sought was a bit of peace and quiet at this ungodly hour instead of being sprayed by foul-smelling liquids by this numskulls. Add to the fact that it was a bit high on said foul-smelling liquids and it was no wonder that it was not a happy camper. It was thus with barely disguised glee that it sprung on the dazed duo and scratched them no end. They yipped, they yelled, they yowled, but the feline was an avenging angel, an Egyptian God's fury incarnate. The fighting blood of its sabre-toothed ancestors was up and boiling and it just went ballistic. It was only when Ravi extricated his left elbow from underneath Manoj's right butt-cheek that they were able to disentangle themselves and scurry away from this blur of paws and fur. The marauder stared disdainfully at its handiwork  as they cowered opposite it before turning away haughtily and slipping out the front door.

The erstwhile combatants gingerly got up and dusted themselves off unsteadily. Manoj walked back to the bar and sat down with his head in his hands. Ravi tottered after him and took the adjoining seat.

"Hehe."
"What now?" Manoj mumbled through his palms.
"We got into a fight with a cat."
"So?"
"And the cat won!" Ravi screamed and burst out laughing.
Manoj lifted his head from his hands and waited testily for his paroxysm to pass over. When Ravi had calmed down to muted sniggers he asked again,
"So?"
He stopped sniggering and looked incredulously at him.
"You mean you didn't get it?"
"Nope."
"Seriously?"
"Yup."
"How? How could you not get THAT!"
"Not my day I guess. Now will you tell me already why the hell you are laughing like a maniac!"
"Hehehe."
"Ravi!"
"Ok ok I'm telling you," leaning forward conspiratorially, "so it was a cat."
"Yup."
"And we are guys."
"Yup."
"Guys with dicks."
"Ok..."
"And it was pussy cat..."
"Oh for the love of...You were laughing at that!"
"Um hmm Um hmm," Ravi managed to squeeze out between his continued sniggers.
Manoj smacked himself on the forehead. That is to say he tried to for he missed by a wide margin. He looked incredulously at the offending palm as it began to go out of focus again. The alcohol in his system was reasserting itself with a vengeance.

He turned his bleary gaze back to his friend who was trying to frantically catch hold of the bartender.
"Oi! Oi barkeep! Hey! Dude! Chop chop!"
"What happened?" he asked.
"I want tequila."
"Don't you think you have drunk enough already?"
"Nope. Neither have you, so I'm ordering for you too."
"Hey! I don't want any."
"Of course you do! Who are you kidding?"
"But..."
"C'mon man! Two strapping hunks like us got conquered by a pussy! What are the odds of that!"
"Pretty low I'd think."
"Doesn't matter! Come! Drink up!"

The bartender had in the interim responded to his pleas and served up two shot glasses worth of the stuff in a jiffy. Manoj picked up his glass and turned reluctantly to Ravi.
"Here," Ravi yelled joyously as he thrust his glass high in the air, "here's to us! To us, to our awesomeness and to our amazingly long dicks! L'chaim!"
"L'chaim!" Manoj responded with a grin, his friend's enthusiasm too infectious to resist.

The liquid burned a fiery trail down his throat and he shuddered as the hit went right to his head. It almost felt like he had been dunked in icy water and he was spluttering by the time the amber fluid settled in his stomach. The world had started wobbling again by the time he managed to set the empty glass back on the table.

"Good wasn't it?" Ravi grinned as he watched his friend carefully.
"Good? It was brilliant! Phew! Strong shit!"
"I asked him for that particular brand. Hits the spot like a charm."
"I'd say. Brrrrhh! My eyes are still watering!"
"Compliments to the chef!" Ravi proclaimed, raising his glass to the bartender in appreciation. The worthy in question was busy packing up for the night and ignored this gesture completely.
"Amen!" Manoj concurred.

A brief bonhomie prevailed in the bar as Ravi went about the ritual of paying the bill. He had lost count of the drinks long time back and didn't even stop to examine the bill as he thrust his entire billfold at the manager, who surveyed the impresario curiously before selecting a card at random and going back to his machine. Business concluded, the loyal friend turned back to find Manoj slumped into deep dark gloom again.

"Oi! Oi you lily-livered cad! What ails you now you dishrag?" adding a thumping slap on the back for added effect.
"Ow! You for one, you drunk monkey! Watch where that hand of yours is going!"
"Hee hee hee hee hee!"
"What's funny now?"
"Hand...he he he...going...hmph hmph hmph..."
"Crissakes did you even graduate high school?"
"He he he."
"God! Here I am smashed out of my spinal cortex, having the worst day of my life and there you are cracking up like friggin' teenager! Don't you see I am suffering?"
The goofy grin on Ravi's face vanished immediately at that, to be replaced by a stern, even angry stare that Manoj found too unnerving to handle. Or maybe it was the tequila playing dodgeball with his neurons.
"Listen, you piece of shit," his friend began irately.
"Piece of shit? You calling me a piece of shit?" he replied incredulously.
"Yes you spineless idiot. You are a piece of shit, the biggest stinkiest most ugly turd that was ever shat out on God's green earth!"
"Ack! That's disgusting!"
"No! No you are disgusting. The way you blubber on and on about this nonsense is bloody repulsive! She found someone else, you bought the new issue of Penthouse so all square!"
"You mean you bought the new issue of Penthouse, which you haven't even given to me yet."
"Details details. That's not the point! The point is that you got rid of her. She was excess baggage man. If not today then tomorrow, if not then later, if marriage then a pretty messy divorce and she would have coolly walked away with a significant portion of your fortune."
"I don't have a fortune," Manoj murmured.
"Bugger! That's not the point again. There was barely any physical, mental, social, spiritual, metaphysical, philosophical or even topological compatibility between the two of you. You got hot after her bust, she didn't seem to mind and that was that. The whole basis of you relationship. Can't you see the big favour she did you? You should be shouting in the streets, dive-bombing into pools and generally raising hell. Instead you are stuck in this sad little bar with your head between your hands. Wake up already you bastard and for the love of god smell some roses!"

Ravi looked anxiously at his friend as he finally raised his head and sat up straight (or whatever went for straight in his inebriated state). This really was the last throw of the dice. If his friend still refused to come out of this thoroughly depressing mood then he was just going to bonk him on the head with a bottle and hope for the best. It was thus with a certain trepidation as he waited for him to speak.

"Ravi."
"Yeah?"
"You paid the bill?"
"Yeah? Oh yeah yeah. Paid it."
"Hmm. We can go then?"
"Yup."
"Come. Let's go then. I need a change of scenery."
"Sure man. Whatever you want."

The duo got up gingerly to their feet. There was a brief alarming moment when the earth seemed to be slipping out from beneath their feet before they managed to rein it under control and plant their heels firmly on the floor. They then carefully made their way to the door and equally carefully stepped out into the chilly winter night.

"Fuck it's cold!" Manoj groaned.
"Seriously," Ravi replied, "I think my scrotum is frozen to my thigh already."
"Let's take a walk to warm ourselves up shall we?"
"Er...ok...if that's what you want....I was looking forward to a nice warm taxi though..."
"Just for a bit. Need to oil these creaking joints of mine."
"Ok...I guess..." Ravi replied dubiously as an especially chilly gust of wind whipped past their faces.

The empty streets rang with the steady clop-clop of their shoes. Ravi drew his jacket tighter around himself as his teeth started chattering uncontrollably. This was not his idea of a leisurely stroll for sure. The fog was impenetrable, threatening shadows were popping up out of nowhere and he was almost certain that there was a crazed homicidal lunatic stalking them at this very moment. His friend, though, was in a world of his own, rarely catching his breath or giving in to the slightest shudder. He just kept plodding on at the same steady place, head sunk deep in thought. The same murderous maniac could have lopped off a limb or two and he would have shrugged it off like a zen master, such was his contemplation. Ravi, however, was denied this inner peace and was consequently jumping about like a ferret. It took about thirty shivers and three anxious glances around before he decided enough is enough and spoke,
"Oi!"
Meditative as he was, Manoj coolly ignored him.
"Oi! I said Oi you blasted idiot!"
Something finally seemed to penetrate his cocoon. He stopped and turned bemusedly to his friend.
"You said something?"
"Of course I said something you drunk bat!"
"What?"
"What do you mean what!"
"What did you say?"
"What did I say? What did I say!"
"Yes, what did you say?"
Ravi knew he had a corker of an answer for that, but he couldn't for the life of him remember it.
"Er...That is to say...hmm...good question that."
"Well?"
"Well what?"
"What," Manoj said exasperatedly, "did you say?"
"I can't remember."
"Why am I not surprised!"
"Hey! You didn't hear what I said. Your problem bud!"
"Bah!" he replied huffily and started to return to his walk.
"Oi!...Ah now I remember!"
"Really!" came the sarcastic reply.
"Of course I do! I said 'Oi you blasted idiot'!"
"Now why would you call me that!"
"Because you are walking around in the Arctic Circle as if you are picking daisies!"
"Arctic Circle? Daisies?"
"Yes. Arctic Circle AND Daisies. Rather nice turn of phrase that, even if I say so myself."
"Why the hell would I be picking daisies at this time! I am mulling you oaf!"
"Mulling on what you git! I am freezing my 'nads of here! Why the hell can't you mull at home!"
"Dude who mulls at home! Haven't you seen any pictures?"
"Oh so his lordship is shooting a picture now is he? Bloody buffoon!"
"Oi! Emotionally trying time remember. Show some sensitivity."
"I will be sensitive the moment I get a hot water bottle between my legs. Oi! Oi taxi!"
Manoj looked around quizzically. There were no cabs in sight.
"Who are you calling out to? I don't see any taxis anywhere."
"Neither do I. I thought there might be some cab lurking around in the shadows or something."
"None that I see."
"Damn!"
"Don't worry man. I will call for a radio cab."
"Aww that will take forever to come!"
"Either that or we walk all the way back."
"Bah!" Ravi replied grumpily and sat down on the nearest doorstep. Manoj conducted the necessary negotiations over the phone and sat down next to him.
"Fifteen minutes mate. Think you can hold on till then?"
"Don't have a choice now do I!"
"Nope."
"Bah, humbug."

They sat in a somewhat moody silence for the next few minutes, only the occasional dog bark disturbing the stillness. Ravi kept looking up and down the road for any sign of headlights, while Manoj stared fixedly at some nondescript spot on the ground. After a couple of minutes of this the latter spoke,
"Ravi?"
"Yup," he replied absentmindedly, engrossed in his search.
"You were right."
The sheer unbelievable nature of that statement made him sit up. He looked incredulously at his friend.
"What?"
"Don't make me say it again now."
"Did you just say I was right."
"Yup."
"Right about what?"
"About her, about the situation, about everything."
"Really? You mean that?"
"Yup."
"Really? Truly truly absolutely?"
"Ya man. Don't rub it in now."
Ravi suddenly let out a gleeful cackle and pinched his cheeks. Not satisfied, he then got up and started doing an impromptu and very unsteady jig.
"Ow! That hurt fucker!" Manoj growled rubbing his cheeks.
"He's alive! HE IS ALIVE! Oh glad and merry this day, oh joy is me!"
"You really have to do that?"
"Do what?" the artist replied, now engaged in his own version of the Gangnam dance.
"That!"
"Oh this? This is just me being nice to you, not shoving the words 'I TOLD YOU SO' down your stinking throat! Ha Ha!"

Manoj waited patiently as the Gangnam turned into something that was a cross between a rodeo bull and cerebral palsy, which was then replaced by the ubiquitous moonwalk. He went through a whole gamut of other fantastical dance interpretations singing "I TOLD YOU SO" in an off-key slur, until he finally got tangled in his own feet and collapsed onto the ground. Apparently he was still too amused though, because he then doubled up with laughter. The bravura performance finally wound down with a big hiccup, a wide grin the only remnant of the gyrations that preceded it. The audience gave him a moment or two to recover before piping up,
"Done?"
"Mmmm...hee hee!"
"I will take that as a yes."
"Um hmmm....hic!"
"Let me finish. I will tell you why I wanted to walk. I wanted to walk because I needed to think, and to think I needed the biting cold to wipe off that alcohol from my system. And what was I thinking about you ask? About what you said friend, about how she had done me a favour almost by digging out my heart and trampling all over it with her Jimmy Choos. For once in your life you were spot on. There was nothing between us. We were, we were just two wayfarers in the night, taking comfort from each other in the dark, facing the terrors of the night together, holding each other for warmth. Once the day came, we didn't need each other. She went her way and I went mine. I liked what we had together and I was very very partial to that fantastic bust, but push comes to shove buddy and I would have taken on a grizzly rather than gotten hitched to her!"

He got up for theatrical effect at this point, walking onto the road and staring in the distance as if posing for some Michelangelo imitation. He raised a pointed finger at some random part of the horizon and waved it dramatically,
"See? See that Ravi? That's my future calling. That's the greatness that lies in store for me. That's just desserts for a man so supremely gifted as me. So what if that bust is gone! There are bigger and better busts to go after, not to mention tight and rounded posteriors! This world is my oyster baby and I'm going to loot it off every last grain of sand! Are you with me you scoundrel, you vagrant, you ragamuffin with the heart of a lion and the physique of a hippo!"
Silence.
"I said, are you with me oh wise and faithful friend!"
Silence.
"Ravi?"

A brief splutter, before the moment was punctured by loud snoring. Manoj looked fondly at him as he lay curled up on the road with his thumb in his mouth, before fishing out his phone and starting taking pictures from various angles. You never know when you might need some leverage, he thought as he rounded off the shoot with a close-up of the goofy grin splashed across his face. He then patted him affectionately on the head before sitting cross-legged next to him. The faint sounds of a efficient radio cab service drew ever closer as he reached into his friend's jacket and took out the new edition of Penthouse. Make hay while the sun shines as they say, thought they probably didn't mean it the way he meant.