What’s the story?

My friend Meghna is kind of spectacular.
She is volatile, beautiful, spontaneous, stylish and responds to names ranging from ‘Meghnatron’ to ‘Madmax’ to – everyone’s favorite – ‘Meghni Flower’ (when she’s in a good mood) and ‘Meghni Cactus’ (when she is enjoying a good murder).
I have never felt bored in her company and I’m the sort of person who takes some kind of sick pride in getting bored easily. We have been friends for 9 years and she is going to be one of my old lady friends when I go grocery shopping holding a walker.

Last month she bought me a ticket to a morning rave. A sober morning rave. My brain short circuited not just because of the shrieking oxymoron but also because Meghna and I have done many circuits of Goa during the party season and I remember once she whisked herself away to a 2 day party in North Goa in a Maruti Van with the Nepali chef and the Swedish waiter of the shack we used to get dinner at.

But since it was her plan, I knew it couldn’t be bad. I had a spectacular time and at around 8:45 a.m I had my t-shirt tied up 1980’s style and was jumping up and down in a hot room full of people dancing like it was 1999 (which was from when most of the music was sourced).

I wrote about it on Unmapped and I’m attaching the link in case you want minutes of the party.



Published by therunawayjuiceincident

I write about my travels. Intergalactic and otherwise....

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