Smoke in a tin box

Sitting in the 'cabin' behind Ramu's canteen at night...I was enjoying a silent fag. There was a kerosene lamp on the table before me, a crude lamp made up in a bottle of Derby Special whisky. The flame was trembling...twitching...moving...as if dancing to the tunes of some unheard music...lost in its own world. The shadows it cast moved with it...desperately trying to join in?
Walked back home in the silent breeze and turned on the music. I loved the feeling...the music sometimes pulls me right into it...and I love getting lost in the scapes of Sting's Fields of Gold or Leppard's Two Steps Behind. The melancholy is addictive...and nostalgia grips me. Strangely, I enjoy the sadness of remembering times gone by, knowing they wont ever come back again.I love this time of the night...when I can cut myself off from the world and just be my own company.
All I could think of was the last three days, when I met up with old friends after a long time. Had a great time-the bus ride to the "town of the wedding", a whole day together, the trip back...the booze party at night.
I wonder what it is...just a 3 hour bus ride with friends can be amazing.
The wedding was good too. This was the first time I had been to a wedding in a 'taluka' i.e. a really small town, and I had no idea how things were gonna be. The lunch was really an experience. I was expecting atleast a simple buffet kind of a setting, but what I actually did was...well I'll try to describe it as well as I can.
There's a traditional way of 'lunching' called pangat where people sit in lines on the floor, cross legged. The food is served in dishes made of leaves of the palash tree. Now this was ok, I am used to it, as this is what we do on any occasion at my grans' place. But here...lunch was like musical chairs.
People were eating, and me and my friends were standing a bit away. I was just looking around, patiently waiting for the whole pangat to finish. Just then, a friend of mine (kaka, we call him) saw four people get up, finishing their lunch. He asked us to hurry and take their place. I protested, saying that the plates were still lying there. He asked me to shut up and sit, if I wanted to have any lunch. I did, and avoided looking at the used plate lying before me. I asked kaka if they would think that we had finsihed our lunch already. Dont worry, he said.
In a few mins, everyone around us finsihed their lunch, and people quickly claimed their spots on the floor. Then, out of nowhere, marched in an army of maids armed with short brooms. Walking between the lines, they knocked down the glasses of water lying there from the earlier pangat. One maid picked up the plates and stacked them in a big tub. Another group of maids then sweeped the rubbish right away from us...all this while I was sitting and staring...feeling like a bust in the middle of a busy city square. I had half a mind to get up and run.
Then a guy came and put before us a new lot of leaf-plates. A kid followed and mocked me, asking me to keep my plate straight. Turns out I just had to flip it, though to me both sides looked the same...
Finished the lunch, which was quite good (loved the jalebis), and got out. Thinking about it today, I know I had had a great time. Sitting and lunching with friends in a weird way was nice.
The bus trip back to Washim was great too...four of us, sitting at the back of the bus...talking crap...darkness outside...easy fun. Then the booze party from midnight to about 2...each of us downing atleast 2 bottles of beer...the tamasha that followed...smoking on the bikes...hoodwinking an odd police jeep...
I felt totally free...nothing to worry about...no bothers...like theres nothing wrong with the world!
But, as always, it ends. Everyone returns to their pseudo-life...college...chores...responsibilities.
Anyway, living a dull life ultimately makes me enjoy times like these even more.
Atlast got a glimpse of my escape.


PS: Reading this post again today morning, I cant help notice how much mush Iv put in there...