Читать книгу Grand Masti - Fun Never Ends - Neha Puntambekar - Страница 11
ОглавлениеMeet’s usual carefree facade had cracked. He was in major trouble this time.
Last month’s credit card bill had earned him a call from daddy dearest. “A little lesson for you, son: money, contrary to your beliefs, does not grow on trees. The next time you want to burn it away, earn your own,” he spat out. “Don’t make me come down there Meet. I don’t have that kind of time to waste.”
And what had he done?
Just that – he had swiped and swiped and swiped away. Thankfully, his father was travelling at the moment. At least the man wouldn’t be marching up to college and pulling Meet out of the classroom by his ears. Maybe time and distance would help quell his father’s anger. And by the time he returned, Meet would get his act together and show some swipe-restraint, proving to his dad that he wasn’t as much of a spendthrift.
Breathing a little easier, Meet climbed the steps up to his hostel. He’d draw up a game plan. He’d be responsible. This would be easy.
“Hello Meet,” a cold and clinical voice greeted him, a voice he despised with a burning passion. “Your father is busy, but he asked me to take care of your new mess.”
“Imran uncle, it’s nice to see you again.” Meet set his voice in the exact cold and detached tone as his father’s trusted money man. The last time this man had been sent down to the trenches, he had made Meet’s life miserable. This time it was going to be worse, of that Meet was sure.
“You know why I am here. Somehow you’ve managed to spend a small country’s income this month, Meet,” he said brandishing a credit card bill at Meet. “Your father is disappointed.”
“What’s new?”
“I am a busy man, Meet. There are real things, important things that need my attention. Instead I am here again, trying to clean up after you,” disproval dripped from every word. And even though Meet was used to it, it still stung. “You are going to sit down and explain each of these ridiculous expenditures. He pointed at a string of transactions that were highlighted by a neon marker.”
“Sit down Meet,” Imran repeated, and Meet did just that. He took in an unnecessary deep breath. It was time to suck it up and get this ordeal over with.
Down Rs. 10,000 ~Short Term Memory Loss
It was on the bucket list: be part of a gang war.
“Like the West Side Story,” Prem said, with bubbling enthusiasm.
“Like the Outsiders,” Meet cut in.
“Khoon-kharaba, maar-dhaad. Finally a chance to earn some scars,” Amar added.
And so on that fateful day, when the sun was at its brightest, the two gangs faced off in the woods behind the college campus. It was going to be intense; it was going to be brutal; it was going to be an afternoon full of hurt, pain and humiliation.
It was the boys against the girls.
“Losers streak across the college cricket ground, twice if it’s with underwear on,” Prem said.
It’s not like the guys needed further incentive –they were paintball champions two years running now, but Prem didn’t want to leave anything to chance.
The boys were arrested on their second lap. They were slapped with a multitude of charges, including pornography for a video that some student recorded on his mobile of youngsters dashing across the cricket ground in stages of undress.
“There could be jail time. There might be a court case. These are dangerous charges. It’ll be all over the media,” the arresting officer warned them. “Your parents will definitely have to be called in to the station.”
He gave the boys a minute to understand the gravity of the situation before he added, “Of course, I could be convinced to forget this nonsense ever happened.” His face tuned smug as he saw hope flare up in their eyes, “for the right price.”
Down Rs. 17,500 ~Of Utilities & Other Essentials
Everything was in order. The Playboy magazines were hidden under the raddi; there wasn’t a single pair of underwear in sight; curtains and sheets were introduced to the living quarters; scented candles sat on the nightstand; food had been ordered. They needed just one more thing to make this a real moving-in party: alcohol.
“Hello Sir, we’ve moved into the flat upstairs. “We are having a small moving in party, and we’d like to invite you. And um, sir, I’m sorry about this but we didn’t realize today was a dry day. Do you have any alcohol to spare? We’ll pay for it, of course.”
“If you’re willing to pay, I am willing to help; we are neighbours after all,” the short. Oily man from the third floor said; his eyes were wide with excitement, whether it was from the invite or from the prospect of extra cash, they weren’t sure. “I’m looking forward to your party. What did you say your name was again?”
They only had 12 more flats to go.
Down Rs. 30,000 ~The Fall of Romeo
“Hi Mom,” Prem said, weighing every word carefully.
“Yes, I am fine. We are having a really good time here.”
“Yes, Goa is lovely right now. It’s not too hot.”
“Meet and Amar are swimming right now, but I’ll pass on your greeting.”
“I think we’ll stay for another week at least. And then head back directly to college.”
“Yes, I’m sorry for not making it home this time around. But we were exhausted after the exams and just needed to chill.”
“Thanks Mom, I love you too.”
As he cut the call, Prem hissed in pain. His cracked rib had protested quite violently through the conversation. The three friends had learnt an important life lesson this week: broken bones are expensive. Hospital rooms that don’t smell like medicine are even more so. And if you’re in the habit of chasing after the wrong girl, it’s prudent to check for unmentioned boyfriends beforehand, if you want to avoid both.
Down Rs. 16,500 ~Kiss of Death
The kiss was soft and sweet, and it tasted of peppermint. He could feel her lip gloss on his own lips; he could feel her breath twirling around with his. Her hands rested lightly against his chest, her perfectly manicured red nails popped against the jet black of his shirt. He barely heard the cheer that erupted behind them.
Her little giggle gave away her nerves. She brushed a strand of her hair away from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. Looking at him square in the eye she said, “It’s your turn to spin the bottle.” Those words brought him back into the room, back into the circle which included his now very pissed off girl friend. He’d have to make up for getting lost in that kiss. He’d have to make up with something shiny and expensive.
Down Rs. 15,000 ~Investing in the Future
As finals week approached, Meet, Amar and Prem locked themselves in a room with their study material. Outside the room, a tower of empty pizza boxes was coming up, one that was guarded by a platoon of used teacups. For anyone that passed by, the sign was clear: men at work.
The overheated Playstation was a testament to their hard work and persistence. Next week’s Call of Duty playoff was in the bag; they could already smell victory, worth Rs. 15,000 for each player on the team. Those IIT geeks wouldn’t know what hit them.
Down Rs. 71,000 + ~ The After Party
That night was a blur. Sure Meet had an occasional flash: the toast; the fireworks; the dancing; the swimming. But the sharp pain in his head, refused to let him remember anything else. He remembered the morning after: getting off the couch he was sprawled across and making his way to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. He had been reeking like an illegal toddy distillery. And by the look of things around the room, the others would have been in a similar state.
Meet had invited a few friends over to his family farm house in Lonavala to celebrate his birthday. They had planned on chilling at the bungalow –dinner, drinks, movie night and maybe a trek after breakfast the next day. That was before someone found the bar. The night had taken a distinctly hazy turn after that.
He had hoped they didn’t do too much damage; he was already in the dog house as far as his father was concerned, he didn’t want to add to the misery.
Meet had taken a sip of the bitter coffee he had just brewed and walked around the house. What he had seen had taken care of his hangover instantly: there had been an empty bottle of Cristal laying on the floor – the bottle his dad was saving up for an upcoming anniversary; the couch had been partly burned and totally ruined; the Ming vase in the corner had a big crack running from top to bottom; and for some reason the garden furniture had been floating in the pool.
That’s when the flashes had begun to make sense:
“Happy birthday Meet, my friend, my brother! Happy…. oooh look Cristal. Pop!”
“We didn’t start the fire, it was always burning, oh shit! It’s burning, it’s burning! Oh god, we killed the couch; where do we sit now?”
“Whoooooo, crack. Oh god, this thing isn’t real is it? Don’t worry, it’s just a tiny crack, if you turn it around, no one will notice.”
“Swimming is so tiring; we should have chairs to sit in the pool. Oooh! We should have chairs to sit in the pool!”
Sighing, Meet had drained the rest of his bitter black coffee. This birthday was going to cost him his youth.
“Meet, I’m going to do you a favour, I will not share these astounding tales with your father. The man has enough on his plate without courting a heart attack,” Imran told Meet once he recounted all his ‘adventures’. “And I’ll tell exactly what he is going to decide: he is going to cut you off for a while. You’re going to be on a very tight leash from here Meet. I’d recommend you get your act together, and quickly.”
“Was that Imran Uncle, Meet? So what’s the word? Are you in the clear?” His friends asked once Imran left the room.
