Wet Wednesday.

I was hungry, very very hungry at about 10 pm. The pangs of hunger roared across my belly. I needed a fix, a food fix this time. When I am down on glucoses, I have the temptation to unwind in a local bar. I went out on the bikey, its always a release of emotions, almost entirely frustation all let out by my right wrist followed by a wall of air rushing on your face. I raced a guy on an old Yezdi bike, to the next turn, where I always slow down, and let him pass by. Went to the panwallah had a nice drag. Felt lonely, very lonely. Vulnerable perhaps, I am so friggin insulated from the outside world. The thoughts of picking up a regular job with fixed pay and unlimited gadhagiri came racing to my mind. But the thought of the daily routine of actually getting dressed in formals and commuting for 3 hours scared me. Buzz it away. I was feeling floatish, had to have dinner yaar.

Options, some chatter putter like bhel puri but the lack of fellow munchers at this unsnackly hour put it off. I hunted down th nearest Chinese shop. Ordered a Chicken Schezwan rice half plate of course, bad choice. Apparently, the chef (bangali guy) had no experience in making noodle dishes. I guess noodles are lighter than rice. I waited patiently for my order amidst the smoke and heat surrounding the stove. Sat on a newly cleared table with some rice fragments generously left behing by the previous customer. The service guy cleaned the table with a greasy cloth. Then it  came, dark blood red, drenched in a second's worth more of red color, and MSG crystals not really mixed well. I dug in unwittingly. The chicken was bordering on being labeled doggie feed, but overall not so bad, ah now my mind could think. I get unusually panicky when I am hungry, y'all could smell it from a mile away, my hunger that is.

One thing satisfied, I went to the wine shop, there were a couple of staggery guys, trying to balance a beer can in one hand and black chana on a plane of paper, almost vertical.  Tore past them to the shop and bought the smallest bottle of Old MonK I could find.  It was hard to resist temptation with all the premium brands neatly stocked up in glass shelves. Found out that Bacardi had released two new flavors Vanilla or something and orange which I hadnt tried yet. Slipped the almost invisible bottle in my back pocket, and headed back home. Met some people from the building who were unusually up late for this time of the night. Patted our building pets and went straight up home, where I opened the PC to write in a celebratory fashion with me having the rum neat with sips of water.  No glasses, no chakna, no nothing, my sleeping pill and ectasy in liquid form.

 Was wondering how would life be without parents doing almost everything for me, shopping cooking, cleaning, etc, I cannot cook anything worth mentionable and I have to be bharpet when I am cooking or I end up undercooking in an urge to eat.  My menu would read Monday, Wed, Fri, Maggi noodles. And Tuesday, Thursday Sunfeast pasta treat, Cheese flavor. I would die. Obviously weekends would be oily greasy takeouts. And the piece de resistance, like I could resist it, my new hobby, move aside stamps, here comes stacking booze. I almost surely given my situation now, would drink daily, how much I would not imagine. I would be that lonely Bachelor parsi guy who lived his life in solitude after his mother died, that guy saved a lot of money by not marrying, I guess. I need a wife, a very tolerant one at that. Gosh cant wait for the weekend. Will I drown myself this time, lord alone knows. Till that time a very bitter and throat burning CHEERS! Now where's that cheese sandwich I promised myself.