The Yarn Factory

So on this sinister Friday night, what were they doing in the open air? Returning to the campus, their jobs and their beds after a night on the town, that's what. Stomachs were full of parathas and chicken and assorted vegetables swimming in a rich buttery gravy. Some of the stomachs were swollen silly with beverages of the alcoholic variety. Some pairs of lips clenched glowing cancer sticks. One thing, however, commonly denominated the group. Everybody clenched one or two bottles of the afore-mentioned beverages, to stock the dwindling reserve in Nitin's room. The housecleaning-boy had begun to demand his share of the beverages to keep his mouth shut. Complex calculations by Vinodh had revealed that 12 teetotallers were to be 'shown around town' every weekend if the reserve had to be maintained at respectable levels.

So that was how Dave, Chris, Zhang and Mahesh had found themselves returning to campus from town, aka, 'Akal-bhai's Paratha joint'. As if he doesn't sell anything other than parathas. These four had sat around, alternatively terrified, petrified and wonder-struck at the sight of theregulars guzzling a gazzillion litres of 'lassi'. And wondering what was so tipsy about a few litres of buttermilk. And absolutely missing the point in storing up lassi for the weekdays. The group trudged along in silence – not that most of them were in no shape to open their mouths. They all sighed a deep sigh of relief as they shinned up the last hill and the night-time lights of the campus swam into view. The sigh quickly turned into an impromptu shout as a sudden squall poured down. They all ran as quickly as they could, hoping to hoodwink the guard on duty under the cover of rain, but it was not to be. The rain-gods or whoever sat up there suddenly decided to display the sky in all it's celestial splendor. Dry celestial splendor.

So plan B it had to be.

“Let's clamber up the wall”, whispered Suharto, opening his mouth for the first time since leaving the 'paratha joint'.

“This is on the east side of the campus and our rooms are atleast a mile's trek away. Have you lost your freaking mind??!”, whispered back Santhu, fiercely.

“Have you forgotten the electrified fence on the other side of the campus”, countered Suharto.

Headlights approaching in the distance prompted no further discussion and immediate implementation of Suharto's plan.

The boys landed safely on the manicured lawns on the other side and commenced walking to their rooms, 'lassi' bottles clanking and jackets dripping.

They had almost made it back to their lairs, when they were surprised by a voice behind them.

“Hold it right there, boys”.

Hurried sounds were heard, and then an intense spotlight switched on, bathing the group in light and blinding them to whoever they were facing.

“Don't you think it is a tad too late to be wandering about campus on a Friday evening?”

“Sir, we were preparing for our comprehensive exams, Sir, and that's why we are walking back late, Sir”. Three 'Sir's”. Overabundance of respect. This had to be Braj. So he'd found his tongue ultimately.

“Is that so. Most commendable. By the way, what are all of you carrying?”

“This is lassi, Sir. We had got them bottled when we went out earlier this evening”, spoke up Mahesh, disastrously.

All along until now, it was just the Indians trying to save the show. The international trainees(don't get me wrong. Some of them were very drunk indeed.) stood around like deer trapped in the headlights of an approaching train. The last vestiges of manouverability were now lost for ever.

“May I have a taste of your lassi?” asked the interlocutor.

“Sir.. but Sir.. we are hungry..”.

Monday morning finds the boys sitting in the interlocutor's ante-office, waiting to know their fate. Though resigned to it, they were still eager to know what it was. The foreigners were let off with a warning on the spot. Only the Indians were directed to appear for the hearing on Monday. There was no doubt about their fate. The company rules clearly warned against posessing or consuming liquor on campus. There were equally strict guidelines on why staying out of campus beyond 9 pm, without permission, was not acceptable. The consequences too, were spelt out lucidly. Their intelocutor, who later turned out to be the HR head of the training center, was an ex-armyman, known well for his draconian enforcement of rules. Yes, there was no doubt on what their fates would be.

The administrative assistant appeared to usher them into the presence of the man himself. With pounding hearts, flushing ears and butterflies in their stomachs, they shuffled into the room. On the table sat the bottles of 'lassi', seeking to remind whoever had forgotten minor details. A stern face peered out from in between the bottles. The stare remined fixed on the boys for a few minutes. Confusion turned to embarrassment to guilt to shame to fear. One by one, the boys began to sob. The stare remained steadfast. Finally, he got up from his seat and came around to the shivering boys. Mahesh raised his tear-stained face as he felt a hand on his shoulder. The man appeared even more dragon-like, up close. Then, surprisingly, the features softened.

“It is extremely bad manners to partake liquor without offering it to a guest.”

“But Sir... bu... but... liquor???????????????????????????”