The Decadent Decades

 The day he drank nine and a half large bottles of extra-strength “Guinness Stout,” a feat matched by few alcoholics, and awoke next day surrounded by a forest of legs. He had drunk himself senseless the previous night and awoke to find himself sprawled under a table in Deva's Tulang-Tulang restaurant in Petaling Jaya, Malaysia. The legs belonged to humans having breakfast on their way to work. His brother-in-law lay snoring nearby, his turban trailing embarrassingly far from his bald head.

 The day he drank a pail of toddy (coconut wine) at Kapar Road, Klang, Malaysia, and then wallowed like a crazy pig in the mud as the monsoon rains fell, together with his four friends. Hours later he found himself walking into the Copper Kettle pub in Petaling Jaya, all caked-up with mud, dirt and slime — only in a pair of jeans, minus T-shirt and shoes. They started drinking again. Feeling famished, he insisted with all sincerity on being cooked and served a whole goat to satisfy his hunger and that of his four filthy friends who were just as mad and messy.

For some reason the remaining customers lost their appetites, and confidence in the lone massive bouncer who meekly tried to strike a friendly conversation with these sub-human beings. It was probably the first time he came across such filthy, stinking, demented men, and probably the last. (The shock of such a sight must have stunned him into caution.)

Somehow, after they had finally stumbled home, his brother-in-law stole the limelight in this epic insanity. By just answering to the call of nature at night he won hands down. In the morning his parents found the sofas and carpet reeking of urine. His mother-in-law, who had come all the way from Seremban, was also there to witness such a crowning glory of her son-in-law. For that his brother-in-law truly deserved a standing ovation.

 The day he left to see his best beer buddy, Manjit, just a month after marriage. He started drinking and, without calling home, continued for another three days. On his return his fresh, beautiful bride — with all the innocence, love, peace, humility and compassion of a typical Indian bride — just told him that next time if he called back it would make her happy! For the next eighteen years this shakti of a woman kept absorbing all the social madness of her spouse with a serenity and detachment matched by few. His thirst for alcohol could not be quenched until the Kundalini (Nectar of Immortality) pierced his son's Sahasrara and the Revelations of the Ultimate Reality (Al-Haqqah) shattered the Mirror of Delusion into a thousand pieces.

 The day he took his spouse, pregnant with Kash, to show her (before visiting his auntie) his favorite countryside toddy (coconut wine) spot in Kapar Road, Klang, Malaysia. Under this pretext he ended up guzzling a huge quantity of this cheap, sweet-sour fermentation. Hours later he decided to return home. As he started his motorcycle and came out of the cooling shade of the plantation, the hot tropical sun hit him into a senseless high. He never knew what happened until the next day. Apparently he had driven so recklessly that vehicles had to veer away onto the countryside road shoulders to avoid killing him. He denied to her that he had done so, but found out the truth soon. The next day he could not start his motorbike — the pistons were burnt up from the sustained maximum-throttle, maximum-speed, death-defying drive!

 The day he drank non-stop for nearly three days without sleep. His uncle, Sukhminder Singh, arrived from India on a Sunday afternoon. They went on a drinking binge, together with his unforgettable brother-in-law, Harcharan Singh. They shifted from restaurant to pub to girlie-bar to 24-hour convenience store to sundry shop in a non-stop merrymaking of beer, liquor, and wine. When there were no places left they just sat by the roadside, bottles in hands, indifferent to traffic, pedestrians and their own self-esteem. In the end they had to quit not because of lack of capacity but cash. Only Harcharan, with head resting the cluttered table, saliva oozing from the corner of the mouth and arms slumped on both sides, had called it quits. It was just Tuesday night. They had drunk non-stop for about 55 hours. No one was bothered about families or jobs.

 The day he drank himself senseless in Brickfields, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia and lost all sense of direction home. He stumbled, staggered, and groped around the area at night, completely disoriented and trying desperately to find his way home. The faintly remembered tripping and falling on something soft and after a number of furtive attempts to get up, collapsed into deep sleep. Next day the morning sun greeted him. A woman was hanging laundry on a clothesline some distance away, her face reacting as he stirred groggily to his feet. He had slept in a long-jump sandpit of a nearby school. All around humans were alert and active. It was the morning rush hour.

 The day he and his buddy brother-in-law drank themselves senseless at home in Jalan Aman, Kuala Lumpur. They had started before lunch on hard liquor, and by late evening were completely smashed. The highlight of this great day came when Mr. Harcharan, in a crazed stupor, fumbled for a place to empty his bloated bladder. He found a suitable spot nearby, right on his sister's dressing table. He then fell right backwards onto bed, without zipping his fly.

 The countless times he sped on his Honda motorcycle through highways and by-ways without headlights, or through red lights, in a drunken craze of utter recklessness, and lived to drink again, and again. And yet again.

 The day he guzzled the best Swiss beer and chased it down with 'speed,' till his brains went into an emergency shutdown. In the morning, he found himself freezing in some bushes of a beautiful park somewhere in Geneva, Switzerland. Elegant swans glided on the weeping willow-lined lake. Humans with an air of educated dignity were strolling around. An 'animal' emerged from the undergrowth struggling to just stand up, without the slightest notion of how he ended there.

 The day he bought forty liters of cheap wine from a Montreal bootlegger for his 1993 October 5th birthday. He then went on an extended drinking binge at his younger brother-in-law's house in Park Extension. The next night the ambulance had to be summoned when he began having acute breathing difficulties and was slowly losing consciousness, after having inhaled a joint. He was in grave danger of becoming unconscious and stop breathing altogether. He was also trying his best not to vomit for he might choke to death in the process, or even if the contents entered the lungs. This was the most life-threatening alcohol/drug poisoning he ever experienced. (He something managed to mumble to his sister-in-law that she will find him dead soon if the ambulance is not summoned, as she was afraid that the police might come and lay drug charges against them.)

His brother-in-law Harjit was lying in the toilet, vomiting on the floor and himself. His spouse went to help remove his stinking clothes. This creature then stumbled out in search of a bed, stark naked and unaware of the ambulance staff observing him. (It must have been hard for them to breathe as the trapped basement air smelled of cigarettes, pungent weed, fermented wine, fresh vomit, rotten burps, and stale farts.)NP

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The list goes on and on. 25 years make a very, very long list.