Terrace party

Last Saturday we had a terrace party with some of my friends, blasting-off as if there's no tomorrow. Booze flowed freely, Home delivered food from a restaurant(it was superb) and all reticence lost. The chilling monsoon breeze didn't have any deterring impact: after few pegs none required a raincoat for a small drizzle. Mr R was showing off his 6 pack abs ( only 2 showed- made promise to display the rest by next party) and RB showed off his music skills on his guitar. I secretly decided to stay a bit sober and watch the action, so found myself clinching a bottle of Beer. RB the usual party controller got himself drunk on whiskey and I wondered why. I noticed unusually poignant BR and decided to investigate on the matter.
It turned out to be nothing very serious. The booze gloom syndrome which every drinker is susceptible to (read: senti dialogues after being drunk) and this is one of the things I like about drinks. People speak the truth. They pour their heart out once the whisky is poured in.
He told me about his childhood, his relation with his father, how he made fun of him and how he thought of him as being lowly, etc... and Then he cried inconsolably on my shoulders, wetting me with his tears and mucous out of his nose.( after the party I was forced to shower with my Dettol anti bacterial shower gel).
The party got over and everyone dispersed but BR refused to go. I wasn't sure how much he drank but he decided to empty his heart on me and tell me the reason behind his latest sufferings. He spoke to me non stop for two hours and I can't explain in words how I felt with my sleep deprived eyes solemnly waiting for him to stop and leave. (I have never missed my sleep so badly in my life)

Below mentioned are few extracts from BR's heart revealing saga , which I thought of sharing here as a first person narrative. I have added a bit of fizz trying to make it palatable and omitted phrases which I thought are un-parliamentry (You should hear BR talk-he would put a truck driver to shame).Here it goes:

When I look at my past , I was really happy as a child.My dad was in the govt. service and we had a middle class upbringing. We ate, wore and entertained out of my fathers meager salary and the poor guy(my dad) had to even save some money so that we could settle down one day into our home town .He had to worry about owning a house and our future education expenses at all, but we were happy. He was not like me: he was content with whatever little he earned. He was happy calling himself a middle class government employee and smiled with it whenever someone asked.

I remember those days, we couldn't afford branded clothes or branded restaurants. But my Father managed to take care of us and thinking about it now, did a good job at it.

Finally I managed to get myself educated and then came my worries. I was picked up by one of the best companies to work, but after few months of working I felt this is not it. I resigned despite my fathers protest and I explained insolently: its my life and me to decide what I do with it. He stopped his advices and least to say he was hurt by my remarks.

I wanted to be the best in the industry, earn more than my college mates, earn loads and loads of money and as quick as possible. I dreamt of living in a posh apartment , with a luxury car and then marry the most beautiful girl in the world.

It was then that I started loosing my hair: according to my mother it was for the reason that I was taking way too much tension into my head. I was at my rudest best in explaining to her that I didn't want to be like her husband (my dad) and live all my life as an ordinary middle class man.

I got rich and had all the money I dreamt of but:

* The food from the best Italian restaurant in town didn't come anywhere close to the dosas my mother made, grinding them the previous day on the small stone grinder.
* I use a good mid segment car, but those journeys in overcrowded buses with my parents are still the best I have ever had.
* I could buy any branded cloths but I don't look forward to wearing them the way those tailored shirts and pants , given to us during special occasions
* I don't get hugged by my mother when I get sick and no one makes me that special halwa only my mother could make.

Now I am never happy, I never have time for anything in life. I am always tired. I cant sleep if I think about my work schedule for tomorrow. Life is a living hell, I have 'just discovered from my doctor that I have high blood pressure and elevated cholesterol levels.

I am convinced money cant buy half of the best things in my life that I got it for free and hence took it for granted. I feel I should apologize to my Father now and hug him once again like those good old days. I want to admit to him that I will never be cleverer than him, No matter how much my bank balance improved. I will
never get the love I got from my mother, no matter whom I married.

I didn't know what to tell BR or how to calm him but yes, I agreed with him: money cant buy half of the good things that I got it for free in my life.