Garbles

My friend was insistent that I join the party. It was almost scary the way she insisted that I needed to join her….However as I usually ignore the soft inner voice which speaks reason I accompanied her to the party.

At the outset, the gathering did look promising.
And in my naivety I believed a few hard drinks down the gullet would definitely bring out the wild ones.

Well a few drinks down the esophagus did bring out something…; my friend did what she was best at doing, she vanished effortlessly!
And it takes no great sleuth to figure that a dark, cozy corner with a male species that she had again “truly” fallen in love with was where she could be found.

I was left to my own mechanics with a slight buzz in the head.

And this is where I made a profound discovery “pseudo sadness is as bad as pseudo intelligence”

Let me try to explain; this Ms X was very fond of dabbling with poetry and writing. All long verses and very long passages on life/ world / the big things- sad stuff.

Ms. X was shortly joined by Ms. Y who addled in more verses of poetry and more worldly words …(Their worldly knowledge brought a tear to my eye!)

Ms. X and Ms. Y were further joined by Mr. Z who poured his heart..spreading the world with excessive complicated poetry, breaking the fine spirit of happiness

Ms.X, Ms. Y and Mr. Z then included Mr. A, Ms. B, Miss C and….all the rest of the alphabets. All furiously narrating poetries, stories, passages, pouring the world with their realizations, lost loves, deceits and disappointments and what nots.
It was one giant “melancholia mela “

Now don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against such wonderful soul searching exercises. I am sure dabbling in self pity is some kind of cleansing agent….But a huge group of people, all quoting poetry down my neck, competing with one another on how sad each one could get, definitely causes a certain chemical imbalance.

I stood there under a huge cloud of gloom.. almost convinced that suicide was the best thing that could happen to me
When a lady looked at me and said “ So, my dear, tell me! Tell this poor soul, what is it all about”
“Er what?”
“What do you call a person who can’t get anything right in her life, whose life is meant to be a vortex of pain” and she made this dramatic expression with her hand clutched to her bosom.

I think it was the ridiculous forced “painful” expression, or maybe it was the third drink, or maybe it was the sadness-madness....
“A loser” I blurted out.

An eerie quiet fell on the group, everyone glared at me!
I really think suicide is a good option!

“Excuse me” I said and ran into the ladies room.

Mustering all my courage I reappeared in the room and popped into the second group .
Ms. X, Ms. Y, Mr. Z and the rest here fell under the pseudo intelligence category. Read - Braggarts

I sat there mournfully, even my drink not dulling the pain in my head. I contemplated which of the two groups was most enthralling…...

When I sighted a third little group of people, laughing!!!!!!!!!.... and basically behaving like normal party animals????

Hope! The eternal flavour of man-kind! I quickly dunked my drink, grabbed another one walked into this pack. A steely determination to salvage the rest of the evening.
I intended to waste away, laugh at poor jokes, sing hoarsely and wear my dancing shoes off till I could view my bare feet…

Like I said Hope..!!!


…….This was the pseudo intelligent + pseudo sad group!!!.......................