Baat ek raat ki…

Three friends and a night in Bombay
Adi, Avi and me are meeting for the first time, after March 12, 1992, the day of the Bombay blasts and the day our tenth standard exams came to an end.
Adi is a chartered accountant, married, slightly bald and with a paunch in the making and has a wife, who he feels, is much smarter than he is.
Avi is a filmmaker who is about to start his first movie. He has long hair which touches his shoulders, but is still as thin and athletic as he used to be. “Not married but father to three kids already,” he says, when we first meet.
But first things first. Adi and me are standing at the end of Carter road in Bandra, with our bladders about to burst and I am sneezing profusely (not a good sign of things to come). Suddenly I remember seeing a Sulabh shauchalya somewhere. Our sensibilities do not allow us to pee in the open. 15 years back, we would have been more than happy to empty our bladders around the next empty dark corner. After 10 minutes I realise, there is a Sulabh at the beginning as well at the end of Worli seaface and not here. This clearly isn't my part of town.
Our inhibitions discarded, we make our way towards the sea. I am the first one to go in. I turn my face towards the sea, open my zipper and let out a sigh of relief. This is the best time I have had in the entire day. Adi goes in next. Twenty seconds later I see him running towards me with a couple of dogs behind him. Looks like he zeroed in on the wrong area. “My wife will kill me, if she ever finds out,” he says.
Soon we are joined by Adi's cousin who is a costumer designer in movies. Avi joins us around half n hour later. We head towards a cheap drinking joint in Bandra.
Once at the bar, I realise I am the only non smoking teetotaler around. For the next four hours my lungs are smoking like a chimney.
I keep ordering Diet Coke, to their Signature Whisky and Old Monk rum. By two o clock in the morning I am around ten Diet Cokes down and full again.
But that is really not the most interesting part.
Life stories are first shared. Avi had lived in for around six years and broken up. Adi had married the first girl he proposed to, on a rainy night in Bangalore.
Three drinks down, everyone starts to open up. “Ye film industry bhi badi c%$^&*a cheez hai”, says Adi's cousin. Adi looks scandalised.
“You know once I start making my movie no one can stop me. And after that most starlets will be ready to sleep with me for a role. In fact some of the bong bombshells are ready even now,” says Avi. The worst though is yet to come.
At three o clock, cops from the local police station burst in. I take out my id card and the inspector smiles. “Agar agli baar pakda to seedhe andar dalega”, I hear him shout as we leave the place.
“So Mr Kaul, you think you are a quizzing bond (I used to be a regular quizzer in school and college) and know a lot,” Avi asks me. “ Avi I haven't quizzed in ten years now”, I reply. “ Hmmm, so what. I also know many things about many things. Don't you think you have sold yourself to DNA? You got to know me Vivek. You know what, I know models who would be willing to have you anytime. Break down the facade you have on. Break it down. The world will be a much better place Mr Rushdie.”
The mini- speech sets me thinking . Was he really drunk? Or were his age old insecurities coming out? And had he really fathered the three kids he claimed to ? Or did I have a facade on?
Half n hour later, me and Adi are driving back in a cab towards Worli. The Mahim Causeway is looking beautiful like most Bombay does, when the population is sleeping. I drop Adi at Hotel Hiltop and start walking back towards my room. As I walk back, I see the waves hit the Worli sea face. People are making their way into the darkness around the seaface with water mugs in their hands. The dogs are still barking. Another day is about to begin....and I am still sneezing. Then I make my way towards the sea and ......