Confessions of a teetotaller
College life is surely one hell of a transition. While for me many of them were smooth but the one thing I haven’t yet been able to come to terms is the drinking habit that has come to define “mazza”(fun) in college parties. New kind of occasions are celebrated just to cater the need of beer loving taste buds with some of them being as weird as “dard mitane kii aadat”(the pain of suffering after receiving an F grade). The weirdest part is that it’s not the F grade that matters unless it gives them reasons to have some “spirit”. And hello since when was engineering all about studying and maintaining the friggin thing called “pointers” that everyone knows points nowhere. Here at VIT we find happiness in everything , isn’t it.
Sometimes during those perfectly timed bare all conversations we wonder about the kind of money that the guy at the beer shop makes. These discussions even lead to deductions that whatever be the case IT sector is saturated and the only perfect start up would be a booze shop outside the college gate. With Pondicherry nearby the fantasized estimated profit never hovers below 6 figures in a month. Phew! With That kind of money, we can even start recruiting grads the next year.
In midst of all this, a teetotaler like me is at the receiving end of the stick. One thing that my friends still have to come to terms with is my teetotalitarianism. Whenever they plan on one of those grief stricken drinking sprees there eyes dog me as if to say “till when one day you will fall for it too”. Some even remarking “poor chap how is he to drink when he is plagued with the thought of scoring a 9 pointer everytime, although seldom does that thought reciprocate into him actually scoring the damm thing”.
The regular “no I don’t drink” statement always evokes indignant whispers of “really after 3 years of college the guy hasn’t even had a drink”, “is he under some sort of a disease”, the best one “poor chap he is missing out on all the fun”. How I long to tell them that its none of those things. How I wish to tell them that I have virtually tasted all the variants of the “heavenly drink”- depressant whiskey, throat hurting tequila and stomach churning beer and I know I will be castrated for saying this but fowl smelling beer( it looked like piss to me ; really!!)
The reason to my aversion is deep buried in my past, the thing that was supposed to be medicinal for me. Its an attachment too emotional, something that I tasted during one of the first few days in hostel, that is why when they say come to the party I ask “Black tea, anyone”.