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"Zwicky's Law - "The more irrelevant garbage you put into a sentence, the better it sounds." no more bullshit. read on !!"

The ITC Story

DISCLAIMER: Few facts have been molded, curbed, exaggerated to spice up the story.

Scene 1: Embezzlement

“Holy Fuck” said I, jumping up from a cosy sofa of lounge at ITC Sonar Bangla when S called me up saying that we were conned and the passes we bought for the New Year bash were fake. My next reaction was – “Ha-ha!! Very funny, smart ass. Tell me where to come. In fact, please come and escort us. Over and out!!” I turned towards other four who were busy bitching about the vile traffic jams of “city of joy” and staring two hot chicks by the corridor. I reiterated S’ words and burst out laughing. But before our smiles faded, we saw all the dorks, including S coming towards us. Well, Atlas did shrug and we were conned.

The quest for dinner began.

Scene 2: The cracks of imperfect focus group

In P’s room six-seven ‘non-sceptic-fairly-optimistic-hardball-attitude’ studs sat together exploring the options which included a trip on a barge, a bar-b-que, hotel Radisson’s party and of course coveted “ITC Sonar Bangla” party. Hasty scheduling and lack of prior planning directed first two options off-stage. For remaining two, choice was not that hard to make. Monetary optimizations, ease of conveyance, brand name and most of all a miraculous discount made it quite an obvious unanimous select.

ITC it is.

Scene 3: Hysteria

No other word can describe what we witnessed at Park Street.

Post dinner, we guys turned on the damage recovery mode and decided to conclude the mishap by having a decent cup of coffee @ Park Street Barista. Little did we know that the hypothesis “’Just when you think that life can not suck anymore, a bird shits on you.’ was true.

Hooligans were erupting at Park Street. A wheelie, ugly naked dance on the middle of the street, whacky fights, drunken snotty bastards; they were all available, absolutely free of cost. But the deranged of the evening award goes to bunch of reckless boys which were coming out of a speeding car and pilling beer all over. And guess who the greatest cheerleaders were?? No points for the answer, “The ever alert Kolkata Police”.

Even guy were feeling pretty vulnerable, I couldn’t possibly fathom about the fairer sex. So amidst all the mayhem we decided to hide out in less affordable but better guarded Hotel Park.

Scene 4: The Park Scenario

Like refugees of park street frenzy, we were bestowed shelter in Hotel Park. Hell, it was crowded. Understandably we didn’t expect to get entry at any pub, disc or bar, but all we asked for was a little attitude from the coffee shop. Alas!! Lady luck was pissed with us and not just coffee shop but even the lounge was mobbed.

Drunken rabbles were everywhere, from sofa to floor, from dance floor to stairs. But the scene was in male restroom. A guy sunk in his own puke was lying unconscious. Man unleashes the beast within on special occasions, location no bar. Finally authorities called up an ambulance and the last I remember was when I saw them lifting him like a sack and taking him away.

Anyways petrified of the whole incidence and considering the safety of girls, we headed back to joka-land only to get mocked and deprecated by fellas.

Scene 5: The diamond in the coal mine

Amongst all this crazy set of events, there was a time when clock strike 12. All of us losers, how much ever I don’t want to use this word but can’t find a better fit, were sitting in Balwant ka Dhaba licking our fingers. Not that food was that delicious, but anything after such an atrocious night had to be sweet. Nevertheless, lassi was some serious gourmet shit and was designated toast for the evening. It was the most festive moment of one of the most unforgettable night of my life.

We had seen enough for the day, so thought we, before heading for a coffee.

Scene 6: Verdict

It was the best of times; it was the worst of times. It may not be the way I conceptualized. But I did spend my new year with my friends; with people who mattered. Few of them were missing, but then...

This time it was different from the usual jazz. Two five stars, one dhaba, one coffee shop and countless hooligans; we did all. Its not about blame game or fault analysis, but forgetting about the sunk cost. The lassi toast, the awesome group hug, I shall never forget this New Year. :)

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