Photo Courtesy:Dissolve

I now see the world in a way that I never thought I would. In the balcony of a bar, watching the traffic pass by, I had a glass of gin and tonic with some ice and mint in my hand. With every sip, I would inhale a handful of smoke from my e-cigarette. To my side, I had my friends dancing to old Nepali music, letting everything sway away with the chilly spring wind. The clamorous street on a Friday evening, accompanied by the most beautiful Southern girls would get anyone lost in wonderland, not to forget some booze and smoke in the veins. I had had a couple of drinks so far, and all I could think about was the dreary world of which I was a member.

As I was stealing a glance, and trying hard to focus somewhere beyond my existential being, I dropped a glass full of rum and coke. The glass shattered on the finely polished wooden floor of the balcony and the mixture of rum and coke splattered on everyone around me. The cubes of the ice rolled as the sound of the cracking glass brought me back to the chits and chats of reality.

I had a waiter clean up the mess before anyone slipped over it. It wasn’t the end of the night, it had just begun. With the shattering of glass, rolling of ice cubes and splatter of some fancy drinks, the night started in an uncanny fashion, which everyone in their conscious mind had imagined. We left the bar after some shots. The roads were not the same and one would not want it to stay identical after that many shots of drinks.

Talk about boundaries now: there were none. Talk about money now: we were the richest. Talk about bravery and courage: we were lions. We entered as many bars as we could. Our entrance, I remember, was as appealing as that of a Bollywood hero’s entrance.

My friends made sure to leave our stain on every bar we entered, as a lion would pee to mark its territory. I, however, just gazed and stared at most of the happenings. As far as I remember, I had this beautiful girl by my side while I screamed at a waiter to hand me a Jägerbomb. As soon as I finished ordering the drink, I turned my head to see if she was still there. Well, it would have been a sequel to some romantic cinema if she had been there. No, she was gone.

As my friends were dancing to some modern beats,--which echoed relentlessly in my eardrums under the faint bluish disco lights--my eyes were searching for what I had missed earlier: the girl by my side. “Here, you go! Do you want me to open the tab?” shrilled the waiter into my ears.

“No! I have had enough to drink.” I screamed. I handed her the card, and this time had my eyes stuck to everything she did behind the counter. As fast as lightning, she would take orders, pour drinks, and hand it over. While doing so, she would then gulp from her cup and then start the cycle again.

As I watched her, I started scribbling a poem, inebriated. Not long after I completed the second verse, a pat on my shoulder nipped my writing in the bud. As I turned my head, a beautiful girl approached me to take a picture of her. She first gazed at my mobile screen and said with a twisted tongue, “Did you finish writing?” Amazed, I looked at her. With a faint smile, I answered, “Well, now I could write on you!”

She handed me the phone, and I took a picture of her while she looked straight in my eyes. Maybe she was the one that was by my side from the beginning. Well, I had had a blurry vision by the number of shots I had already gulped down. I handed her the phone and did not care much to begin a conversation in awe that we live in a world full of stalkers.

I ordered another shot, and with some salt on my wrist, I drank every dreg of it at once: to her, to everyone around me stalking one another. Moreover, to me myself: the Picasso of stalkers!