Standing outside Eatopia, on the road that leads to Anjuna Beach or Vagator (depending on which way one is facing) Yash and I were talking and rolling joints. A scooter appeared from nowhere and sped by, missing Yash by a couple of inches.
“What the fuck!”
The scooter slowed down and stopped, on it was a drunk local.
“What did you say?”
The thing is that Yash feels extremely brave with any drug in his system. “I said watch out, dude”, he stared back defiantly in the darkness.
“No, no…I heard something else, I heard you say ‘fuck'”, the local was in no mood for Gandhigiri. He got off the scooter and walked towards us. Man, Yash was going to die in Goa.
“I heard him say watch out, that’s what he said…and anyway, it’s our fault, we shouldn’t be standing in the middle of the road”, I said, trying to sound sincere. It was our fault, we were standing in the middle of a road in the middle of the night. Tripping our heads off on acid, that too.
This guy looked ready to thrash Yash, who was quite fataoed and had decided that it wasn’t very brave to fuck with a drunk Goan in Goa. Yash is a smart boy. He has this disorder which makes him think of something, want to say something else and end up saying something which bears no relation to what he thought of or wanted to say. “We are here for a few more days”, he said to the local, who shot back, “Yeah, are you having fun?”. There, situation turned around.
The local chatted with us for a minute and then got on the scooter and left, but not before warning Yash to watch his mouth. As the figure of the man on the scooter became smaller and smaller in the distance, Yash turned his head in its direction like Clint Eastwood and said in a very deep voice, “Zinda gaad doonga” (“I’ll bury him alive”).
