A twisted game of Twister

It started off as any normal evening. Uneventful. Banal. Mostly Blah!

So I was at my cousin’s in Bangalore. I had decided to visit my extended family during the last few weeks of December. Just the last few weeks...New Year’s night was only reserved for like-minded people who shared the same interests as I did; with whom I could welcome the New Year with the right level of excitement and bang. I refer to the age group who DO NOT have white hair, wear dentures, is in toilet training phase or whose idea of a good time is discussing family politics in their flower-printed nighties.

Basically, the enlightened company I make a mention of is the reliable gang with whom I will undoubtedly consume ridiculous amounts of alcohol and with whom I will enjoy the antics of smashed party-crashers who make complete fools of themselves (Come on...the least they can do is amuse us after having come uninvited and then they have the bloody audacity of glugging down OUR cheap liquor! Hmph!).

In all fairness, my crazy cousin and I get along like a house on fire. She is one of those characters that will entertain you with her crazy exaggerated stories- more interesting than her stories are the added dramatic gestures and sound-mixing. But even then, there inevitably will come one day of lull. And it came that evening. I cribbed about how we need to do something fun. Her Dad was out of town, we had the house all to ourselves and a cabinet stocked with all the best liquor (can’t let the glorious stuff just sit there...I swear it was practically begging for attention).

So phone calls were made. By eight, we had at our residence, Sahil (my drinking binge-buddy and long-time bum-chum) and two new chaps- Varun and a guy whose name I simply cannot remember. What I vividly do remember is his blood-shot red eyes (which was not because of the vice that we are so infamous for) but because of some allergy that made his eyes itch- a LOT.

After the customary introductions, were the initial minutes of silence.  Polite conversation followed. Then the drinks arrived and all was good!

Everyone started loosening up as the potency of the poison worked its magic, and we were funny and boisterous. We decided to kick off the evening with a session of karaoke. Now without sounding too la-di-dah, I come from a family in Bangalore that is well-known for the personalities it has produced. We have them all- the actors, cricketers, musicians, classical dancers and artists. So it comes as no surprise that my cousin and I are pretty decent singers. As Shivi sang like a nightingale of sorts, I just hummed in a pitch that only dogs could hear. When it comes to public singing, I am shy that way. But not the guys! They bleated like goats with all the enthusiasm they could muster.

Once all the rock stars were done with their uh...singing, we decided to play a game of ‘Twister’. Now anyone who has played Twister knows that it requires a LOT of flexibility and kinesthetic intelligence. The Twister board has coloured circles and by spinning a wheel, you are required to place your hand and leg in the position that the wheel specifies. You can only imagine the jumble of limbs when there are 5 people playing! Now before I narrate what followed I have to stop and warn you.

Cautionary Note:

If you are a non-drinker- Skip this portion (There is a very good chance you will find it hard to digest the levels of stupidity that will follow)

If you are a Drinker + Never played Twister when drunk- Please do try this at home

If you are a Drinker + Played Twister when drunk- Learn from us and then try at home (elevation to stupendous levels of stupidity is guaranteed)

So now Varun, Sahil, Itchy and me stood by the Twister board to receive our first round of instructions from Shivi who volunteered to spin the wheel. Shivi calls out, “Varuuuun. Left leg green. Right hand blue”. And so Varun positions himself. “Itchhhhy. Left hand blue. Right leg yellow”. And so Itchy positions himself (I was quite impressed that Itchy’s colour perception remained intact considering his deteriorating eye allergy). “Saaahiiil. Left hand green. Right leg red. And so Sahil follows. “Maaddy. Right leg blue. Right hand yellow”. I take my position.

This went on for a while till Sahil was sitting on his haunches, much like a street urchin would. Sahil takes his position and looks up to......ITCHY’S BUTT!! Sticking right up his face. Itchy was bent over in a way that showcased his posterior to Sahil. Surprise suprise. “Ooooh CRAP!!” said poor Sahil (Given the situation, a very inappropriate choice of words if you ask me). Anyway, while Varun lost his balance and went to spin the wheel, Shivi joined in the game.

Now Sahil and I were the leanest of the lot and it turned out, the most flexible as well. It was the battle of the mean machines (Boohahaha!!).  If there is one thing I pride myself in, it is my ability to bend over backwards...literally. My doctor actually claims that I suffer from a case of ‘hyper-flexibility’. What better reason to twist your body in unimaginable postures than to win a game of Twister? Aaah...I finally find meaning in my life. A truly profound moment, eh?

Since the other less capable contenders were all out, it was just Sahil and I left to fight out the battle. While I am showing off on the Twister board, Varun says, “Sagar, right leg blue and left hand red”. Sahil and I slowly look up. Who Sagar? “Oh!” says Varun realizing he had accidently referred to Sahil as Sagar. Sahil looked offended. “It’s Sahil”, he says stiffly. I wonder why people with names like Sahil, Sagar, Ankit, Shalini, Puja, etc get all worked up when their names are oft-forgotten or confused. It’s a pity that ten thousand Indians share the same name already, and then to top it off, parents go ahead to name their own child Puja or Sahil. What lack of creativity! Chach!

At this point, I am quite impressed with Sahil’s persistence to stick through the game. But Sahil always HAS to win. What else can you expect from someone who played tennis for his college and nearly worships Federer? So while the mêlée on the Twister board continued, different people took to spinning the wheel and Itchy at some point referred to Sahil as “Sohail”. What was hilarious is that people were getting too drunk to remember Sahil’s name.  He went through the agony of squatting through several Namkaran ceremonies presided by three very drunken priests.

About 20 minutes through the game, while ‘Sandeep’ was required to change his position, he bumped me hard and as I fell out the board. Bloody clumsy oaf!! While Sahil knew this meant victory for him, he realized that he was the reason for my ousting. But I put on my most gracious-loser face and said to the apologetic oaf, “Never mind.”

We decided to play one the last game. I took to spinning the wheel and Shivi, Sahil, Itchy and Varun re-entered the game to play. Varun was too drunk to stand let alone perceive colours so he admitted defeat. And I was back into the game babyyy!!

Varun took to spinning the wheel. Now Itchy’s red-eye was errrmm...producing some gooey sort of gloop. Out of sympathy (Read:  grossed out), we offered Itchy a dignified exit from the game. So when Shivi eventually tripped herself out of the board, it came down to Sahil and me. Again. We stared at each other and I tried to intimidate him by staring at him real hard. He looked concerned and whispered, “Uhhh...You’re not going to throw up, are you?”  Wiseass!!

So while our turns were called out and Sahil and I kept switching from one awkward position to another, I noticed Sahil losing his drive. I knew I could make it. If only I could psychologically break him. A plan formulated in my mind (I did my evil laugh and winked deviously in my head). So I said loudly, “Dude...Sachin is taking too long man”. That did it. All three drunkards who were witness to the game started spawning one name after another to unnerve Sahil. Shivi who was sprawled on the couch with another drink screws her eyes as if to concentrate and wonders aloud, “What do we call him tomorrow morning?” And I reply immediately, “SAMBAR”. And as Shivi rolls off the floor and goes completely nuts, I feel flattered. I am sooo funny. And smart.

So egged on by Shivi’s loud laughter, I said, “Ooooh...and in the afternoon, SPAGETTI. And later at night- STEAK!!” This brings on more laughter. As I write this, I realize that the SAMBAR SPAGETTI STEAK joke is not close to funny but you must appreciate its humour in its context.  When one is sufficiently sloshed, even the unfunny loser next door will sound like Russel Peter. I don’t know whether it was the laughter surrounding Sahil’s name or the fact that he had been squatting for some 5 minutes now, the purpose was served. Sahil went “Plonk” on his ass. Sweet victory! I looked blasé as I dismissed his bruised self (and bruised ego) that lay on the floor; I stood up gracefully and took a bow.

Next morning, as we all woke up from much-needed sleep; we looked at each other rather shame-facedly. The memory of last night was still fresh in our minds. We bid our dignified goodbyes like 5 mature adults, promised to keep in touch and thanked Shivi for a wonderful time. As Sahil dropped me of at my grand-dad’s place, I sat in his car, glancing over rather sheepishly at him thinking of a way to apologize.

But that’s the advantage of being great bum-chums....even if you end up making an ass of your bum-chum in order to earn public appreciation (I am NOT proud of what I did last night), you can always count on him to forgive you and hold your hand the next time you end up making an ass of yourself. We hugged each other and as he drove away, I made my way to the house reminiscing, “Suprabhat is my one true friend”.