Aryan led me away from the dance floor and toward the bar. He sat me down on a backless bar stool and proceeded to sit in one himself, facing me. I was, well, embarrassed. Again. Every little thing embarrasses me, it's been that way forever. I've always had that itchy feeling that people only remember the embarrassing portions of my life and are probably going to hate me soon, because of said embarrassing moment.

 I had dipped my head down, mainly because I didn't know how I would react. I was always this sheltered girl who had never had an actual taste of the real world. It was as though my world was sugar-coated, with candy canes and ice-cream as far as the eye could see. I had never been in a situation that compromised my virtue, simply put, I was shielded from everything. Hell, I had to hide the fact that I was watching Game of Thrones from my parents! They would've kicked me out if they knew.

 We have a smartass in the house! *mental smirk*

 "You okay?" Asked the savior in front of me, the green-eyed one *mental squeal*. I dipped my head lower for a second, preparing myself, and then looked up to meet his eyes. I simple nodded and gave a tired smile. It was all I could manage, dancing takes a lot out of you. He simply nodded back and I came to the conclusion that this was, again, going to be awkward *high pitched tone*.

 But then, surprisingly, he started, "I suppose you're an engineer?" I looked at him curiously as I answered with an affirmative nod. "My mother keeps telling me stuff about the country. I hear it's either engineering or medical over there?"

 Now this was a topic I had ranted to a lot of people about. Yep, it was my comfort zone. Bitching about my country, so very patriotic.

 And so I began explaining with enthusiasm, complete with hand movements to emphasize my indignation. To his credit, he listened and nodded at all the right places. I told him about how we're all forced to take up either engineering or medical, how most of us end up doing just that, how people who choose to do something else are treated with scorn and so on. I even told him about this new video that went viral on YouTube. Anu Aunty, a sort of engineering anthem. It described the life of almost all undergrads in India. (A/N: Video to your right, laugh and share!)

 In exchange, he told me about his mother's obsession with the country. How, when he was young, his mother used to force them to stand straight and recite the Indian national anthem before school, the boring Hindi songs that his mom sang along with, and basically his exasperation with it all.

 Somewhere in between our conversation, we started a kind of drinking game. You finish a story, you down a shot. Toward the end, our conversation got slurred and we ended up just drinking. Well, actually, I claimed that we could continue our conversation telepathically and he agreed.

 Don’t judge us. We were trashed.

 When Viha came to find us, we were squinting intently at each other, or rather, telling each other stories telepathically. She stood looking at each of us alternatively, like she was witnessing a tennis match.

 I don’t remember much of what happened during or after that, I was, as they say, drunk as a poet on payday.

 I woke up late in the morning, around 10am, safe and sound in my bed. Okay, not entirely ‘sound’. I had a deliberating headache, it felt as though someone was repeatedly dropping sacks of rice on my poor, poor head.

 Viha came in, grinning broadly at me. That grin of hers made me feel extremely queasy, like she was plotting my demise. She came in with some cereal and tablets. Sitting on the edge of my bed and setting the bowl on her lap, she turned to me. I stood up instead, I couldn’t take the tablets or eat anything without brushing, that would be gross. Hell, I wasn’t supposed to eat until I’ve taken bath and dressed up, according to my religion. But then again, who follows all that crap now-a-days?

 Stupid headache.

 I brushed and walked out, taking the tablets from Viha as I sat on my bed. I took them and reached for the cereal. She held it away from my reach and said, “Go get your own.” I frowned and retorted with “Ass.”

 Lame comeback. I blame it on my throbbing head.

 The sacks of rice seem to be replaced by sacks of potatoes.

 I knew this war couldn’t be won by violence, so I settled on guilt tripping her. I fell back on my bed, clutched my head and gave her my best puppy-dog face. She caved. HA!

 She gave me her cereal with a disgruntled expression, an expression that hinted that she would get back the favor soon enough. I shrugged it off and began loafing MY cereal. Emphasis on ‘MY’.

 Suddenly, she looked at me with an amused expression and said, “So you’re the crazy drunk.”

Goddamnit. What crazy shit had I done!?

Last time I got drunk, I had kicked all my friends (in my defense, I warned them and then kicked their asses), stood on a car with a beer bottle in hand and yelled ‘This is Sparta!’ Thankfully, it was 2am in the morning and we only got yelled at by a lady wearing one of those blindfold thingies. After that episode, I was carried back to my friend’s flat and locked in the room. Needless to say, my parents were in the dark. The only reason I had agreed to drink was because we were staying over at a friend’s place for two days. My excuse had been: College project. Lame, but very effective. I had been on very few similar ‘college projects’ during my stint at engineering college. I say ‘stint’ because I definitely would NOT associate my four years there to studies.

I looked at Viha with an expression akin to fright. The ‘This is Sparta’ thing hadn’t blown over completely yet. Shammy, my ‘friend’, had recorded the damn thing and forwarded it to most of my friends. Apparently, the video had become some sort of stress-buster during exams. I didn’t want another ‘drunk Ana’ video to be circulating.

She grinned and took out her cell phone.

WHY? WHY? WHY?

She recorded it! I knew it! The bitch!

She took her own sweet time in opening the video and giving it to me. The video started off out-of-frame, then it focused on two people. I recognized them as Aryan and me, the familiar feeling of dread began in my tummy. Suddenly, video-Aryan stumbled slightly away from video-Ana and held out his hand, with a drunk flourish. Video-Ana squinted weirdly at him and put her hand out, but missed his hand. Aryan took my hand and we began …. Waltzing? It wasn’t that funny in the beginning, but then he spun me around and I ended up drunkenly moving forward and bumping into a stationary car. The video ended with me cursing the car and talking about how the car’s mother would be disappointed in it.

Hey, it wasn’t that bad.

I looked up at Viha with a calm expression, but she still had that evil grin on her face.

Oh.

The worse was yet to come.

She took out a piece of paper and said, “You guys went crazy. Bouncing around the street, hi-fiving each other for no reason, holding each other’s hands and running around yelling ‘we’re running toward the beautiful sunset’ at 3am in the morning, sleeping on the roads and fake snoring.” Her grin widened and she continued, stopping between words as she struggled to control her laughter, “You guys made me a minister, and asked me to marry you. You wouldn’t let go until I did. Aryan brought a white plastic cover and put it on your head as a veil, and he even hummed the wedding march. Then you told me I suck at being a minister and that you’d settle for a registrar marriage.” She handed me the piece of paper.

I opened the crumpled sheet and read it, it was a very untidy handwriting. “It’s your drunken handwriting.” Confirmed Viha.

The sheet said, ‘Myself  Ana. Yes, that’s how Indians who know butler English introduce themselves. Shit I’m getting married. This beyotch next to me is gonna be my spouse. I forgot his name. Wait. Yep, it’s a he. I’m straight. I’m so happy and shit. Okay, bye.’ Along with a very loopy signature below. Then, ‘his name is Aryan. He just told me. He has a twin. And green eyes.’

I was about to tear the paper, when Aryan walks in. I stared at him and he gave me a tried grin. I looked at Viha in confusion. “He wouldn’t leave. Said …. he … finish … honeymoon.” She finished, gasping for breath. My eyes widened at that and he just paused, his ears going red. Viha looked between us, pointed at both of us and laughed her ass off.

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Forgive me for the shitty drunk scene. It's my first time.

Enjoy the Anu Aunty video!

Anyhoo, enjoy, vote, follow and comment!

- Mad_Hatter95 :-P