Madira-the sweet nectar of the heavens! was a bar opposite our medical college in Mumbai, a favourite hangout for unabashed fun-frolic, worshipped by the students as an evening temple.It was an average unpretentious stuffy smoke filled bar with middle class of boozers nursing their grief away.We could not afford any other costly bar with our pocket money.
The crisp naans,cut into small triangles were like biscuits,the green boiled chana with a dash of lime,topped with chillies and freshly cut onion rings were relished by us like horses.The butter chicken used to slide away in our eager throats and the dry fruit special biryani was licked off the plates. Of course,the madira-whisky was served in tall fingerprint smeared glasses with opaque ice cubes which matched the dim dull atmosphere.We would smoke, non smokers used to always cough in this stuffy place.A juicy paan completed the feast and we would head to our hostel.
A slow walk would be halted by our full bladders, we would liberally piss on the roadside whistling, with our hands in our pockets looking at the starry sky so as to fool the other people walking on the road.Sometimes, they would also stare up at the sky eagerly, blissfully unaware of our bladder emptying on the road! Some drops used to fall on our shoes as this 'hands free' act could not control the direction of our rapidly running stream.We then used to literally 'fall' asleep in our rooms snoring away to glory. A sound contented sleep!
One day, it rained very heavily to waterlog our college road upto the knees.Such a bountiful rain demanded a celebration and we rushed in our shorts,clutching our money in a small water proof plastic bag. Money is paper, not flesh and bones like us and cannot survive in water but our economy is monsoon dependent! We could not understand this paradox, but drenchingly rushed to the bar.The bar was crowded and bursting at the seams.Our favored waiter served us whisky outside the bar, the raindrops falling in our glasses further cheered us. Heavens were pouring a few drops of nectar in our glasses, signalling divine participation! Food was served inside though.
We left our hostels in 1999 with a very heavy heart, all this years of friendship would soon fall apart with our marriages and careers. Life goes on, we had to move on ahead in life.
We would miss our Madira bar very badly.
Last year,a few of my old college friends came to my town and we spontaneously decided to head to Madira bar to relive our college memories. We drove all the way to reach the place and caught our favourite table. A decade had passed by,the place looked so different and aged. The chairs were creaky and the leather on them antiquated. All the staff looked unfamiliar, it was being run by a new management now. We were very disappointed and in unison, walked out of the place without having anything.
We never wanted to shatter our old, precious-cherished memories.
The old Madira was firmly etched in our hearts and could not be erased.
Some old memories are better left alone, they may not resurface in a favourable desired way!
Time changes everything.
It is better to carry pleasant memories of yesteryears.
I do not want to change them in this coming years of life.
The crisp naans,cut into small triangles were like biscuits,the green boiled chana with a dash of lime,topped with chillies and freshly cut onion rings were relished by us like horses.The butter chicken used to slide away in our eager throats and the dry fruit special biryani was licked off the plates. Of course,the madira-whisky was served in tall fingerprint smeared glasses with opaque ice cubes which matched the dim dull atmosphere.We would smoke, non smokers used to always cough in this stuffy place.A juicy paan completed the feast and we would head to our hostel.
A slow walk would be halted by our full bladders, we would liberally piss on the roadside whistling, with our hands in our pockets looking at the starry sky so as to fool the other people walking on the road.Sometimes, they would also stare up at the sky eagerly, blissfully unaware of our bladder emptying on the road! Some drops used to fall on our shoes as this 'hands free' act could not control the direction of our rapidly running stream.We then used to literally 'fall' asleep in our rooms snoring away to glory. A sound contented sleep!
One day, it rained very heavily to waterlog our college road upto the knees.Such a bountiful rain demanded a celebration and we rushed in our shorts,clutching our money in a small water proof plastic bag. Money is paper, not flesh and bones like us and cannot survive in water but our economy is monsoon dependent! We could not understand this paradox, but drenchingly rushed to the bar.The bar was crowded and bursting at the seams.Our favored waiter served us whisky outside the bar, the raindrops falling in our glasses further cheered us. Heavens were pouring a few drops of nectar in our glasses, signalling divine participation! Food was served inside though.
We left our hostels in 1999 with a very heavy heart, all this years of friendship would soon fall apart with our marriages and careers. Life goes on, we had to move on ahead in life.
We would miss our Madira bar very badly.
Last year,a few of my old college friends came to my town and we spontaneously decided to head to Madira bar to relive our college memories. We drove all the way to reach the place and caught our favourite table. A decade had passed by,the place looked so different and aged. The chairs were creaky and the leather on them antiquated. All the staff looked unfamiliar, it was being run by a new management now. We were very disappointed and in unison, walked out of the place without having anything.
We never wanted to shatter our old, precious-cherished memories.
The old Madira was firmly etched in our hearts and could not be erased.
Some old memories are better left alone, they may not resurface in a favourable desired way!
Time changes everything.
It is better to carry pleasant memories of yesteryears.
I do not want to change them in this coming years of life.
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