It’s monsoon here, and a perfect time through the seasons of the world in which this very sunny friend of mine celebrates his birthday.

We have this little temple across the road called ‘Rose Garden’ where most of our memories our cherished with rum, whisky, doubtful chicken dishes, and a famed specialty called egg burjee that washes down very delectably with the cheapest of rum imaginable.

There’s something about bars and birthdays, a marriage made between them that nobody should dare to explain. You might wonder how alcoholic my soul is when I tell you that a birthday without alcohol is like Christmas without wine.

Anyway, today feels too hot to write any sort of poetry. I thought I’ll stick down a few of my inner movements onto prose. It was quite a quick week, days flowing by on my office floor, racing by, the weekend is mostly going to fly by even faster. The problem with having a job is it makes you feel like the things that make you who you are slip out all too fast like sand through your fingers.

The fellow in the picture, Pramod (middle). All too often he reminds me of normality after I get home from work. We sit in our temple, with rum and speak of the ugly side of humanity. And then we speak of women, and then of better ways to get high and then finally about our eternal conflict with the natural movement of life. These conversations remind us that it’s the little things in life, so often small talk and careless gossip that helps us feel alive. Our ponderings over the abstract and spiritual so often disconnect us from reality and throw us into a realm of endless reasoning and worry and we forget that being alive is mostly about the little movements instead of the big ones.

My rum with this fellow on the many evenings of the year help me remember these things. And I guess I’d say his birthday is a day on which I can celebrate the man, a friend who I’ve cherished for years now and will continue to do so, hopefully in ways that are beyond just the bottles and wasted dreams on moonlit night skies on the dimly lit terrace of Rose Garden Bar.

Happy Birthday buddy!

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