Yo Ho Ho

Dinner done, and a paper tomorrow.
No studying done, no plans of starting anytime soon.
Half the people you know are up burning the midnight oil, and the other half are snoring away, alarms set for three in the morning.
Revision to be done, no? NO?
Haan, then?

And in every college across India, for the last three generations running, and for many a decade to come, there is a band of people who keep the flag flying. They steal out into the dark inky night, with assorted notes, and on some memorably desperate occasions, assorted coins - on borrowed bikes which have ten rupees worth of fuel in them - and rescue for themselves from the officious clutches of society a short stubby bottle, filled to the neck with a black nectar that has in it a sweet sickly smell, and a picture of a fairly ecstatic monk in the front.

Reality check. If you have a smile on your face right now, read on. If not, you set the bloody alarm for three, didn't you?

This is about Old Monk, peoples. The rum that helped me, many a dude and dudette I know, and, I'm sure, many more I don't know but empathize with, get through academia. We drink fine liquors today, and I know the difference between a single malt and Royal Stag - but up until this day, when mention of that legendary Meakin brand comes up - the eyes go misty eyed and the eyes go dreamy eyed. Much sighing and shrugging of shoulders.

Much flashbacking to the days of yore, when plastic glasses would be filled with a leetle beet of rum, followed by a splash of coke and two splashes of water. The strong, sweet taste, backed by the fizz of the cola, and tempered by the smoothness of water.
The first peg, which would be slow and painfully sober.
The second, which would be somewhat happier, and somebody would switch on the music.
The third, which would be well on the way to Heppy Heppy Land, which is when the music would get loud, the people would be dancing, and mirth and lightness was all around.
The fifth, when chaos was king.
The sixth onwards is plis to be experienced, no descriptions possible because half have been censored and the other half I do not remember.
But yeah, been there done that, no biraadars?
May the Good Lord bless the imbibers, and if I was in your place, I would replace the weekend's programme with a bottle of that there same Old Monk.
For old time's sake.
That's what's happening this weekend out here, and it is the open house types se hai. Plis to be coming over.
Cheers, all.