Monday, January 09, 2006

The Last Day

Today is my last day for this year in my home country. Tomorrow, I leave for my foster nation. It is the same drill every year. I go out to meet my friends. I tell my folks I will be back by 12:00 am. I drive around with my friends, searching for liquor outlets, 'cause, you know, every year they close the liquor outlets an hour earlier. We try the usual suspects : Hotel Blue Diamond, Hotel Aurora Towers, the Pride, the Le Meridien. Only the Le Meridien serves alcohol past 12:00. But since we have been to Le Meridien just 2 days ago, and 'cause it's as expensive as a hooker on Mardi Gras, we decide on the alternate cheaper way : to go to Paud road to the Police sanctioned illegal liquor outlet that is always awake come hell or high water, till 2:00 am.

And that is where we get 6 bottles of Kingfisher beer extra strong, after which, we retire to my friend's outhouse to debate on Indian politics and drink Kingfisher Extra strong beer till 5:00 am. Then, the unfortunate friend, whose outhouse we have been infesting till now, offers to drive us non-vehicle owners home. I am left standing at the corner of my house and the lamppost. Since I am drunk and leaving for the US the next day, I squeeze my driver friend's hand a bit longer than usual, hug my friend sitting next to me on the backseat a bit harder than usual. I ring the bell.

My folks, who have been camping out on the living room sofa, turn the lights on even before I get out of the car. They have been waiting and listening for a car engine all night long. I am the son who is departing for the US. I am scolded as I go inside. "Dad's got to drive all the way to Bombay tomorrow", says my mom. I mumble something even I don't comprehend. I go upstairs to my bedroom, intending to fall asleep right away.

I don't fall asleep. I open the door to the balcony and go outside. I look down at our garden. I see our cat sitting on our porch. Our cat will save me.

Every year I come here for a vacation, my last night here is hell. The only way I salvage my sanity and keep myself from running home from the airport is to do the following : I let our cat back in. Our cat is a selfish bitch. Before I let her in, she is all appreciative and purring. After I let her in, she goes to her dish in the kitchen and eats the cat food left in it. And then, without even a look or a meow, she fucks off. And I close the door. I needed that so I wouldn't feel so bad about leaving. I needed some animal cynicism. So I let her in.

She purred about for a bit and ate her food. Loud cracking noises filled the house. Things were going according to plan. Then, she came to me and looked at me. I told her to get out of the house. Instead, she leapt on my lap. She made herself comfortable. I stroked her head, crying to myself. Things weren't going the way I had hoped they would.

I told her to get up. She refused. I picked her up and opened the door. I kept her outside on the porch. I kissed her stupid head and said "Goodbye sweetheart till next year. Hope you are still here then", and I let her go. She ran away into the darkness. I went back inside.

Tomorrow I leave. I won't be back for at least a year. I hope things won't change a lot by the time I come back. I hope my folks won't look older. I hope my cat is still alive. I hope my house is still in good shape. I hope I can still make out the entrance to our driveway.

I hope I come back next year.

5 comments:

Anurag said...

Hey, this was one heart rending post. Hope you are feeling better now.

Sujatha Bagal said...

Folks looking older the next time around is the killer. Their images are frozen in time in your head, but they don't...:(((

Anonymous said...

Dude,
That was amazingly written.
Just chill awright

J. Alfred Prufrock said...

Salud!

J.A.P.

shakester said...

oh man....
great post