A fishy tale

It was some years after the Engineering course was completed and before most of us friends had married, except perhaps one or two. We had planned an overnight picnic to Marve beach, where we went by a rickety boat. There were about 6-7 of us. We reached by evening and had booked a room to stay. The evening was spent in frolicking on the beach and the night stretched beyond midnight in lot of friendly banter accompanied clinking of the glasses. The entire next day, being Sunday, was mostly by the sea, all of us enjoying getting drenched by the surf. Finally it was time to go home and we started back by bus. But before starting, one of our friends decided to get himself some edible souvenir in the form of dried fish. Now you know how fragrant the dried fish are! Some of us bluntly told him not to travel with us, but all this was friendly banter. Finally we got on the bus, our friend promptly occupied a window seat. And since the dried fish was being a nuisance to the other passengers olfactory nerves, our friend held out his hand, carrying his precious cargo in a plastic bag , outside the window, balancing the plastic bag on his little finger. Being very tired from our monkey antics on the beach, most of us slept soundly, through the uneventful journey. When we reached Malad railway station, all of us got down. And suddenly our friend realised that in his sleep, he had let go of his precious cargo. A few of the Malad cats were treated to unexpected feast that evening. And us friends…well we had one more story to be told between ourselves, each one adding his own mirch-masala, to the saga.

Yatindra Tawde

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