"COME FOR GARBA (GE)"....she bellowed(her mobile phone, I keep reminding her, is a redundant object - she really doesn't need one even for long distance calls )
I was slightly alarmed because it sounded like a threat at first and this woman, apart from having the vocal chords of 850 pound grizzly bear in heat, happens to also be particularly violent. So when she said GARBA, I immediately sprung onto my feet in self defence.(fists all balled up, elbows bent, Rocky style). When I came to my senses (hey come on...I was shell shocked) she explained to me what a GARBA was..... Let me mention here that this DID NOT make the situation better.
I dont know if you people are aware of what Garba(ge) really is. But for all those who dont, its the most hideous action of moving ones arms and legs(in unison with other willing people or suckers like me) to the sound of garba(ge) music (read: garbage music) into a sight which might make a normal human being(like me.... no jokes here) pass out when he/she witnesses it. In simple words, its a form of DANCE.
Dancing my dear friends, has always been one area in which klutzy old me has always had a problem. I wouldn't exactly be termed as John Travolta because what gives me away almost instantly when I get onto the floor (*grimace*) is that I just CANNOT camouflage the fact that I have 2 left feet. Its another thing that I do a perfect 10/10 "grease lightening" once Ive downed a couple of beers(just like JTV... Infact he must have picked up his moves from me when I was at Purple Haze or something).
The fact of the matter is, however, that I was stone dry sober. So not surprisingly, my immediate answer to her question or rather statement, was a loud NO... Thats when all the persuading, bribing, threatening, begging, kicking and punching started and me being the nice guy I am (and NOT weak livered as per popular belief) finally gave in. They say you can take a horse to the water but you cant make it drink the water......... If I was for one moment assumed to have equine characteristics and was forcefully dragged to a sewer, the following 2 hours saw the whole proverb being re-written. Not only was I made to drink the water, but was almost drowned in it!
One word to describe my experience
TERRIBLE
To make matters worse, I was looking like one of those lost kittens in a kurta with a flap around my neck(dress code apparently). And when I was told that I had to pay 250 bucks (1/4th of a frigging grand) to enter the place, my heart almost stopped beating. Two hundred and frigging fifty Gandhis.... that could get me 2 full Tandoori birds at Arafa(I say "bird" here because if what I get on the plate at Arafa is a chicken, then I can easily call myself Brad Pitt... I hope the Arafa restaurant owner is illiterate and never reads this blog)
Anyway, like I was saying, the cost for entry was so high because the singer (of the Garbage music mentioned above) happened to be some demi-goddess of sorts. Falguni Patuck or someone. So I took 10 deep breaths and payed up in the hope that it wouldnt be as bad as I had thought it would be......... It was worse.
Imagine 15000 deranged people all in comical garb looking maniacally happy and dancing at the same time. Its hard but try. Thats the scene I saw when I entered.
When I say happy here, I mean ecstatic. So happy that I'm not able to describe it...wait... I'll try.... mmmm... ok.. here goes - one chap I saw there jumping like a monkey was so happy that it looked as though 2 litres of steroids had been pumped into his veins and that he was VERY VERY high on sugar. If he smiled any wider, he could have been arrested. No kidding. And around 1/5th of the people there were like that(if my math is correct, thats about 3000 people.)
It got worse when Mrs Patuck waddled onto the stage and started crooning(croaking) her tunes. Those 15000 people went absolutely crazy. I actually saw one girl crying. I almost went up to her and consoled her but half way there I realised that she was crying like how I would cry if I saw John Lennon performing on stage. With all due respect to Mrs Patuck, I think I prefer the Beatles (Wow... hows that for an attempt at being over-diplomatic?) Doing everything short of putting my hand over my ears(in the fear of getting killed by an enraged fan for insulting the crooning hippo errr... singer), I scrambled to the food counters. I was depressed and I needed something to eat...ANYTHING to eat... I bought something that looked like a vada paav(Have you read my blogs on how much I detest Vada Paav? So you can imagine what I was going through if I willingly went up and paid for a Vada paav).
On taking the first bite, I realised that it was SWEET...A gujarati dish....a gujurati dance.... I almost puked(No offence to the Gujjus here... I love the people but I hate their food)... I begged God to wake me up from the nightmare (Disclaimer: All the events chronicled so far are not entirely true)...................
And 25 mins later it was over!The tradition at the end of the whole farce(which is done around circles made of about15 people) is to finish off with something like a "ringa ringa roses"...only thing being its a little more vulgar sounding. So when 1000 "HUSHA BUSHA WE ALL FALL DOWN"s are done together, the effect is close to 4.5 on the Richter.(this is NOT counting Mrs. Patuck.... gosh... Am I gonna get lynched for this?)
That was that. I had made it out alive!!!!....
So if any one who has read this pays up and goes for a Garba(ge) , NEVER say that I didn't warn you....!!!!
*clap* *jig* *clap* *shake that booty* *clap* *clap* *clap*
