Grand Masti - Fun Never Ends. Neha Puntambekar

popped against the jet black of his shirt. He barely heard the cheer that erupted behind them.

      Her little giggle gave away her nerves. She brushed a strand of her hair away from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. Looking at him square in the eye she said, “It’s your turn to spin the bottle.” Those words brought him back into the room, back into the circle which included his now very pissed off girl friend. He’d have to make up for getting lost in that kiss. He’d have to make up with something shiny and expensive.

       Down Rs. 15,000 ~Investing in the Future

      As finals week approached, Meet, Amar and Prem locked themselves in a room with their study material. Outside the room, a tower of empty pizza boxes was coming up, one that was guarded by a platoon of used teacups. For anyone that passed by, the sign was clear: men at work.

      The overheated Playstation was a testament to their hard work and persistence. Next week’s Call of Duty playoff was in the bag; they could already smell victory, worth Rs. 15,000 for each player on the team. Those IIT geeks wouldn’t know what hit them.

       Down Rs. 71,000 + ~ The After Party

      That night was a blur. Sure Meet had an occasional flash: the toast; the fireworks; the dancing; the swimming. But the sharp pain in his head, refused to let him remember anything else. He remembered the morning after: getting off the couch he was sprawled across and making his way to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. He had been reeking like an illegal toddy distillery. And by the look of things around the room, the others would have been in a similar state.

      Meet had invited a few friends over to his family farm house in Lonavala to celebrate his birthday. They had planned on chilling at the bungalow –dinner, drinks, movie night and maybe a trek after breakfast the next day. That was before someone found the bar. The night had taken a distinctly hazy turn after that.

      He had hoped they didn’t do too much damage; he was already in the dog house as far as his father was concerned, he didn’t want to add to the misery.

      Meet had taken a sip of the bitter coffee he had just brewed and walked around the house. What he had seen had taken care of his hangover instantly: there had been an empty bottle of Cristal laying on the floor – the bottle his dad was saving up for an upcoming anniversary; the couch had been partly burned and totally ruined; the Ming vase in the corner had a big crack running from top to bottom; and for some reason the garden furniture had been floating in the pool.

      That’s when the flashes had begun to make sense:

       “Happy birthday Meet, my friend, my brother! Happy…. oooh look Cristal. Pop!”

       “We didn’t start the fire, it was always burning, oh shit! It’s burning, it’s burning! Oh god, we killed the couch; where do we sit now?”

      “Whoooooo, crack. Oh god, this thing isn’t real is it? Don’t worry, it’s just a tiny crack, if you turn it around, no one will notice.”

      “Swimming is so tiring; we should have chairs to sit in the pool. Oooh! We should have chairs to sit in the pool!”

      Sighing, Meet had drained the rest of his bitter black coffee. This birthday was going to cost him his youth.

      “Meet, I’m going to do you a favour, I will not share these astounding tales with your father. The man has enough on his plate without courting a heart attack,” Imran told Meet once he recounted all his ‘adventures’. “And I’ll tell exactly what he is going to decide: he is going to cut you off for a while. You’re going to be on a very tight leash from here Meet. I’d recommend you get your act together, and quickly.”

      “Was that Imran Uncle, Meet? So what’s the word? Are you in the clear?” His friends asked once Imran left the room.