Tales of a Teetotaller

Being a teetotaller in this day and age is plain boring. It’s Vanilla! But it is what it is, and I am one. I have been sniggered at parties and get-togethers by my colleagues many times in the past. Thankfully, my friends and cousins don’t fall into that category.

But being coaxed and cajoled into “trying” alcohol is not new to me. Most people have tried that with me and failed. Of course, because I am a very determined person, but more than that, I hate alcohol: any kind, all kinds. Yes, I hate booze, and no, I am not saying this without trying one.

Many years ago, while still in college, I took a shot at alcohol for the first time with a close group of friends. We purchased vodka from a nearby wine shop, orange juice and some dry snacks from a grocery store and settled on her sofa in the living room, as her parents weren’t home. It felt like we were on a mission and all geared up to shoot. There was no YouTube in those days to teach us how to make a screwdriver – a cocktail made with vodka and orange juice – but we managed with the limited knowledge from our other friends. We poured vodka into our glasses, and since neither of us knew the desired quantity, we relied on the Indian kitchen’s tradition of using ‘an estimate’ or ‘Andaz’.

We filled one-fourth of our glasses with vodka and the remaining with ice and orange juice.

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At the first sip, we could only taste the orange juice and barely any vodka. Four of us started drinking, but only two were left halfway through as two of my friends decided to abort the mission. They weren’t getting any kick out of it. To be truthful, neither I nor the other friend of mine was, but we continued nonetheless. Even after the second drink didn’t hit the right spot or made us tipsy, as we had heard, we decided to down the entire spirit with the juice.

It was a 250 ml bottle for four people, but two of them decided to opt out of the adventure, and what was left was sufficient for both of us.

We poured ourselves equal amounts from the bottle and juice to top it up and decided to go full throttle. Bottoms up! Again, we felt nothing and thought that it was a foolhardy idea to begin with. We continued with our chatter for a while, and just when we thought that it was a misadventure, something shifted in our brains. The head was light, and the feet felt as light as air. So that was the tipsy feeling everyone talked about, light and airy. We felt like we were on a cloud and started playing hopscotch in her living room, even though there were no squares on the floor. We started laughing over something silly and were at it for a while.

The feeling was surreal for sure, yet I only remember this part of the night as we passed out in her room soon after.

But what we weren’t prepared for was a hangover! The next morning, I woke up with a splitting headache that refused to go with the morning tea prepared by my friend’s mother.

Yes, Uncle and Aunty came back at night, but we weren’t aware of it.

I also remember throwing up in her bathroom to get rid of the hangover headache. Finally, a disprin came to the rescue, which I bought after leaving my friend’s house, from a nearby chemist.

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That was my tryst with alcohol, which made me loathe it. Alcohol connoisseurs, please feel free to come after me, but I am not going down that road again. Since that incident, I have politely refused alcohol on many occasions and continue to do so. Whenever I have given in to the hosts’ requests, I haven’t been able to finish the drinks.

Once, a bunch of my batchmates in the office, celebrating the completion of a training module, convinced me to savour the port wine.

Did I enjoy it? I will leave it for you to decide.

Last year, while vacationing in New Zealand, I tried their world-famous wine. This was at the insistence of a friend who asked me to promise that I wouldn’t return without trying a taste of the Kiwi wine.

How was it? Your answer is as good as mine.

Cut to the chase: I am not a fan of spirits, and my friends and family have made peace with it. Or so I would like to believe.
So now, when we meet, and they ask me for my choice of drink, I say, “I would like my Coke neat and on the rocks.”