I got married at the end of 2006. I was working with one of the Big 4 firms back then. I was told by my colleagues that I was getting married way too early... for a consultant. I knew that.
Life was quite hectic in consulting. On most days, I would reach the office at 8:30 am and stay there until midnight. No matter what time I got home, I would spend a few hours drinking while watching TV or reading the newspaper. Ghosts of some failures and past relationships used to haunt me, and I would try to drown them in a bottle of whiskey. Back then, whiskey was my favorite poison.
My parents were quite worried about me and they, along with my sister, decided to throw me down a pit by getting my marriage arranged. At that time, I did not know what was in store for me, as the devil had not revealed her fangs yet, so I was excited about the upcoming marriage and the change in my life.
I was (and still am) the quiet type and did not have too many friends in the office. When they came to know, a couple of friends/colleagues asked me to reconsider. But by then, sarfaroshi ke tamanna jaag chuki thhi (the desire for self-sacrifice had already awakened).
Another colleague (everyone called him Chako) was getting married around the same time. I do not think anyone would have planned a bachelor's party for me, but since he had more friends and both of us were part of the same industry vertical, a joint bachelor's party was organized. We went to 'Liquids Pub' in Banjara Hills in Hyderabad. It was later renamed 'Liquids Club ETC' and has now permanently closed. The place was opposite Taj Banjara.
The entire industry vertical went to the pub. The plan was to get Chako and me drunk. A colleague, Swami, who was considered a relatively heavy drinker (that offended me), was given the responsibility of being my buddy and getting me drunk.
We started with some tequila shots. People were cheering and encouraging us. Swami gave me company for the first few shots, but then he said he needed to slow down. And I wanted to accelerate!!
One by one, I had 14 tequila shots. Then I had 4 other shots. Liquids used to have shots with some interesting and wild names, but I do not recall their names. I do recall the name of one of them but I cannot mention it here as it is not suitable for family audience. One of the shots required going to the bar counter, where the bartender set the drink on fire.
The drinks were not having any effect on me. The only effect I can think of is that I had entered a "zone" and was no longer hearing the conversations around me.
After some time, I noticed that Swami was looking a little upset and was uttering something that was barely audible. He was staring at one of the Managers. Then he told me that he wanted to go to the washroom and asked me to accompany him. I agreed.
He was walking in front of me and at that moment, I realized that Swami was a little tipsy. We went to the washroom and I waited for him near the wash basins. Just as Swami was approaching the basins, the Manager entered the washroom. He had a serious look on his face and asked if everything was alright. I was clueless about the reason for the question.
Before I could answer, Swami shouted and charged at him! He grabbed the Manager.
I was stunned and, for a moment, had no idea what was happening or how to react. When I finally realized what was going on, I grabbed Swami and pulled him away from the Manager.
He was shouting, "How dare you say that?"
The Manager was shocked and asked me what was wrong with Swami. I think it was a rhetorical question because I was absolutely clueless.
I pinned Swami to the wall and asked the Manager to leave. After the Manager left, I kept Swami pinned to the wall for some more time. Once his anger had evaporated, I asked him what had just happened.
Swami told me that while we had been sitting in the pub and having fun, the Manager had commented that he should behave himself at office gatherings because this would reflect in his upcoming appraisal. At that time, I had actually been sitting between the Manager and Swami. Somehow, in my "zone" and happy state, I had not heard the exchange at all. I felt that the Manager's comment was completely uncalled for and unfair.
But before I could say anything to Swami to calm him down, he started crying. Not silent sobs. Full-on "boo hoo hoo".
Once again, I was stunned and for a moment, did not know how to react!
Swami hugged me tightly and kept crying loudly. He started questioning what wass he doing with his life. He had wanted to join the Army and serve the country. Instead, he was doing work that felt meaningless. I could understand his pain because it resonated with me. I tried to comfort him.
Please note that this was the men's washroom of a popular pub on a Friday night. The pub was packed and everyone was drinking. Naturally, bladders needed emptying. But, for good 5-6 minutes, anybody entering the washroom witnessed two grown-up men hugging each other in the middle of the washroom and one of them was crying his heart out! It looked like a scene from the movie Dostana, though the movie had not even been released at the time. Swami did not care and did not even look at them. I, on the other hand, looked into the eyes of every person entering the washroom. Every single one looked at us, then looked at me, apologized, and quietly walked away.
I did feel bad for Swami, but I also wanted to push him away.
A few colleagues heard about the attack on the Manager and came running into the washroom. Finally, Swami let go of me and all of us had a quick discussion in the washroom. Swami said that he wanted to leave, and everyone agreed that it was probably for the best.
After Swami left and we came back to the pub, everyone asked me what had happened. I did not tell them much. I simply said that he was feeling unwell because he had one drink too many. Nobody bought that explanation, but I did not want to divulge anything further.
Though the shots had had no effect on me until then, I decided it was time to slow down. So for the rest of the evening, I had only six large pegs of Bacardi White Rum.
Someone suggested that we all should dance. People got up to dance. I also got up. Warning Signal #1.
I realized that I was starting to lose control because I NEVER dance. The fact that I had even stood up made me think it was time to stop drinking. I sat down, said very little afterwards and skipped dinner (big mistake).
After dinner, everyone decided to call it a night. I slowly got up and we all walked to the elevators. At that moment, my mind started to fog up a little. The shots, the rum, the limited snacks, and the absence of dinner had started questioning me, and I had no answers.
We came downstairs and I collected my car, my father's silver Maruti Alto, from the valet.
I remember someone suggesting that he should drive my car. I am not comfortable letting anyone drive my car, but I agreed. Warning Signal #2.
But by then, it was already too late.
I remember someone driving my car while I sat in the front passenger seat. We drove ahead on Banjara Hills Road and took a U-turn to go towards Hitech City.
After that, trust me, I do not remember ANYTHING.
The next morning, I woke up in a large room. Though I was still not quite myself, I immediately knew it was not my room because it was neat and tidy.
Thankfully, it was neither a hospital bed nor heaven.
I looked for my glasses and could not find them. Eventually, I spotted them on the floor in the farthest corner of the room. I have no idea how they ended up there.
I picked them up and sat on the bed for a few minutes, trying to compose myself and remember where I was and how I had landed there. Nothing. No clue at all. It felt like a scene from The Hangover, though even that movie had not released at the time.
I had an intolerable headache and felt extremely nauseated. Although I wanted to solve the mystery of my location first, I could not control myself any longer.
I ran to the washroom and puked. For the first time.
Afterwards, I felt slightly better, but the headache became worse. I came out of the room to investigate. Outside was the dining area. In front was the kitchen. On the right was a small balcony. On the left was a living room. Next to the room I had slept in was another room with the door shut. Opposite that, beside the kitchen, was another room. Its door was shut as well.
I entered the first room and found someone sleeping on the bed, completely covered by a blanket from head to toe. I did not know what to do. So I went to the other room. It was locked from inside.
I went to the living room, hoping to find some clues, a photo frame or anything that could have solved the mystery. I did not find anything. But on the center table, I found the keys to my car. I thanked God. At least the car was there.
I went back to the room I was in, tidied myself, put on my footwear and prepared to leave. Before leaving, I entered the first room again and gently tapped the person sleeping there, who resembled a dead body covered by a hospital sheet. The person woke up. It was one of my colleagues. I had a hundred questions, but the poor fellow was still half asleep, so I simply told him I was leaving and walked out.
I still felt horrible and the headache was killing me.
In the parking lot, I found my car. I first went around it to check if was alright. No scratches, no dents. I was relieved. I started the car and drove out. Until then, I had no idea which apartment complex or locality I was in. When I exited the building, I realized I was not very far from home.
On the way home, I stopped twice. To puke. Violently.
I somehow made it home. I had moved into that house only a couple of weeks earlier and did not know anyone in the building. I lived alone. By the time I reached home, I had no energy left and I immediately crashed on the bed. But for the next couple of hours, I kept getting up. To puke. On that day, I vomited 17 times. That must be some sort of horrible and disgusting world record!
By the end of it, I had no energy left. There was no food in the house. I could not even gather the strength to order anything. This was pre-Zomato and Swiggy so, there were limited options. And being new to the locality, I did not know the nearby restaurants either.
I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling fan for a day and a half. I could not get up. I did not answer calls. I was convinced that I was dying.
The next day, in the evening, I finally felt a little better. I found a restaurant menu that had come with the newspaper, ordered some food, took a shower, loaded up on carbs and sugar, and slowly recovered.
The next day, i.e., on Monday, when I reached the office, my colleagues told me what had happened when we reached the parking lot of their building late on Friday night. I was woken up and then I crawled out of the car.
Then I hugged and did not let go. Not a person. The car!
I did not want the poor thing to be left behind in the parking lot and wanted my colleagues to somehow 'carry it' to their flat. Their narration of the incident did not mention laughs and abuses but I am 100% certain that my behavior must have attracted both.
After they managed to finally rescue the car from my bear hug, three of them dragged me to the flat and my body was dumped on the bed in one of the rooms. My footwear was removed, though I resisted. In my state, I was probably thinking that someone was mugging me for my shoes. During that struggle, I must have flung my glasses across the room.
This was embarrassing.
Throughout the bachelor's party, I had thought that Swami was the one who had created a scene. Though he certainly deserved the gold medal, I had given him a strong fight and managed to secure the silver.
Thankfully, neither incident was discussed much in the office.
I did not touch alcohol for the next ten months.
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