A Happy Night and Ruined Day

This was very first time, I was blacked out. Next day, when I woke up I was having throbbing headache, sore throat, aching stomach and a clinching urge for water. I was lied upside down on my bed, over my laptop and books, my phone was constantly ringing somewhere and I felt nauseated. I ran to bathroom and leaned onto the toilet. I knew, it was beginning of a rough day. And it was the first day of a year. Brand new year. I had plans. A good start and good moments with friends. I hated myself for ruining that.

I remembered last night - the trance lights, the crazy dance moves, the vodka and a live stage. People were euphoric. They were celebrating. A year was on edge, and another year was on verge. I remembered four of us were having good time. We were chatting, eating and drinking. Pretty girls were everywhere. Their smiles and skins glowed in neon lights, even in dark. Smart bearded guys proudly held them, as if they were their prized possessions. It was a packed room, there wasn’t a single space to breath, and when people started to sway with beating DJ music, the floor was wet with spilled drinks.

I didn’t know how much I drank. Surely, it was many. I remembered asking the busy bartenders to fill my glass, and they did it in a fraction of second, and I gulped it down in minutes before asking them again. I remembered a random guy fell on me and I was all soaked with vodka. I hugged him and wished ‘Happy New Year’. I remembered somebody held my hand and I thought it was one of my friends, and then I looked at her. She was so into dance and music that she forgot, she was holding hand of a stranger. And I remembered my friends, everybody was dancing and enjoying.

People were ecstatic when the countdown started. Three…two…one. Happy New Year. I wished my friends, and to every other one who was in vicinity. Total strangers. I was happy. A different kind of happiness. Different from lying on sofa and reading a book, or watching a movie with rapt attention with a cup of coffee. It was freakishly live. It was like a dream. I closed my eyes, and then when I opened them, I found I was being dragged away by a staggeringly large bouncer to a corner. I asked him quite as a drunkard, what happened brother. He didn’t look at me. I tried to locate my friends. They were somewhere in the ocean of people. Mad people. I asked him again. But the sound of music was ear-piercing, and my voice drowned. Then when we were at corner, and we could hear each other faintly, he asked me to dance on a side. Somebody complained against me.

Now that was unacceptable. I could be dead drunk, I could be ridiculously rude, I could be worst husband and a bad friend, I could be anything but a molester of woman. It’s not about morality (well, there is some left though). It’s about my respect to them. I have a lovely wife and daughter. I have a caring mother and sister. And ofcourse it’s about lack of courage and fear of consequences. I work in a place, where corruption may be condoned but not even the tiniest assault on women. I demanded to the bouncer, let me talk to the complainant. There’s must be a misunderstanding.

After drunk persuasion, he took me to the middle of floor, where some moments ago, I was dancing. I saw my friends. One of them came to me and asked what happened. I told nothing. And then the bouncer spoke to a guy behind me. Oh! Shit. A guy? A guy complained against me? Why? I asked him, ‘Dude. Have I done anything wrong?’ He shook his head and looked at the bouncer and told him that he didn’t know me at all. He was complaining against some other guy. I looked at the baffled bouncer and asked his name. My friend, who came to rescue me told him that we were from department (I don’t know why, but everytime it works!!) and now his job was at danger. He told nothing, but even through my hazy eyes, I could notice the changed facial expressions. From stern mode to request mode to panic mode. He stood there and tried to mumble.

I didn’t know when he was gone. The free booze was really wrecking havoc inside me. I went to the counter and filled my glass and again started swaying. My friends were telling something to me. I pretended to listen. My mind was somewhere else, somewhere between sane and insane, somewhere where I was never before, somewhere where there was only light. I sensed that it wasn’t good. People see that insane world of light, only when they’re dying. Am I dying? Oh God. And then I blacked out.

I have fragments of memories. A hazy collage. May be one hour later, I found myself puking outside the hotel premises, under a tree, and then while the car was on road. And then I found myself hanging onto a friend’s shoulder in front of my society, I could see the dropped jaw of security guard, who once told me that I was like a demi-god, when I successfully counselled his son. I remembered thanking my friend profoundly for helping me, and then unlocking the door. I remembered a thumping sound on bed and then nothing.

I woke up around two in afternoon next day. Hundreds of Whatsapp messages, tens of calls – all missed. And while I was in bathroom, again puking and flashing out the remnants of yesterday, I felt crying. I clinched onto the toilet-seat and leaned forward. I could taste salty tears with bitter vodka. Everything was coming out, and guilt was pouring in.

It was supposed to be a happy new year. What I’ve done?