The great bhang story
Holi of 2013 arrived with its usual colours, chaos, and careless laughter. The morning began ordinarily enough. Abhishek was getting ready for his Made Easy classes—focused, disciplined, borderline irritating in his dedication toward GATE.
Pankaj and I, meanwhile, followed our own sacred academic ritual: eating.
We rode to Patrapada Chhak for breakfast—puri and samosa dripping with nostalgia and oil. Abhishek left for class straight from there, leaving me and Pankaj to the peace of our room.
By midday, a few friends dropped by, smeared some colours, cracked a few jokes, and left.
That’s when Rishi called.
His voice oozed temptation.
“Let’s try bhang today.”
Pankaj and I looked at each other.
A decision this reckless needed at least three seconds of thought.
“Done,” we said.
Rishi told us to pick him up. We brought him over.
Pankaj, the ever-serious aspirant, opened his GATE books again.
Rishi and I did what we always did—watched movies we’d already watched a dozen times since first year.
The plan was simple:
Go to Tamando market. Buy bhang. Mix it. Drink it.
None of us had tasted bhang before. The excitement was stupid, youthful, and electric.
The Purchase
By evening, we took the Freedom bike and headed to Tamando market. Rishi led the way confidently, like he had trained for this moment his whole life.
The “shop” he brought us to was nothing more than a tiny stall with bottles filled with suspicious green paste—half full, half disgusting.
One bottle was ₹20.
Rishi frowned.
“Bhai, this won’t be enough for three of us.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Let’s not get overenthusiastic. First try. If nothing happens, we’ll come again.”
Reluctantly, he agreed.
Now we needed curd for bhang lassi.
Not surprisingly, curd was sold out everywhere.
We settled for Omfed lassi. Two packets.
We mixed everything in a half-litre bottle. The green paste dissolved reluctantly, like it knew the menace it carried.
All three of us laughed like villains in a cheap Hindi film.
Pankaj drank first. Then Rishi. Then I.
Three rounds—gone.
Five minutes later, Rishi got impatient.
“Nothing’s happening! Let’s go buy more.”
“Wait one hour!” I snapped.
He sulked like a child denied a chocolate.
The First Wave
Thirty minutes later, the first hysterical laugh burst out of Rishi.
Then another.
And another.
His mysterious giggles grew faster, more demonic.
He stood abruptly.
“I’m going to my room.”
Pankaj dropped him near the LIG and returned.
I assumed the excitement had ended.
I was wrong.
A few minutes later, I heard Pankaj laughing outside—loud, random laughter. I peeked out.
He was sitting on the bike.
His phone was locked.
His face was glowing with madness.
“Why are you laughing?” I asked.
He looked at me with deep sincerity.
“How do I know? I just want to laugh.”
I went inside.
He soon followed, lay down on his bed, started mumbling.
I walked closer.
He was facing the window, whispering like a scientist discovering a new element.
“The time taken by sound to travel from this ear to this ear…
is called time delay.
Yes, yes, I cracked it. TIME DELAY!”
Before I could react, he turned dramatically.
His eyes widened.
“Do you want to fight with Manya Surve?”
“I am Manya Surve. I changed history.”
I tried to keep a straight face.
“No, no Pankaj… I will fight for Manya bhai.”
He smiled approvingly.
“Good. Good.”
He suddenly asked, “Can you hear the birds singing?”
I said no.
He got angry.
I panicked and lied—“Yes yes bro, now I can hear them clearly.”
He nodded like a guru whose disciple finally understood enlightenment.
Moments later, he whispered,
“This is a dream… none of this is real.”
“It’s real, idiot,” I said.
He pointed at a milk packet on the table.
“Tear it and show me.”
“Are you mad? It’ll go waste!”
He grew grumpy—dangerously grumpy.
I pretended to open it near the washbasin by turning on the tap.
He inspected it, found it intact, snatched it, tore it open, and shouted in victory:
“SEE! REAL! THIS IS ALL REAL!”
Meanwhile I wondered:
“Am I a superhuman? Why am I not affected at all?”
I glowed with pride.
The pride didn’t last long.
I was next.
The Matrix Has Pankaj
He called Apurv to “confirm the time.”
He declared me “Agent Smith.”
I sat silently questioning my life choices.
That’s when Abhishek returned from coaching.
At first, he thought we were just joking as usual.
But then he watched Pankaj closely and realised something was very wrong.
I suggested we all go out to wish a friend.
A terrible idea, in hindsight.
On the way, Abhishek warned, “Police van will catch you! Control room guys are patrolling!”
We didn’t wait for more.
We RAN back like fugitives.
Halfway, I whispered to Pankaj, “If we go, our friend will also get caught. We can’t leave him!”
He nodded solemnly.
We ran back, lifted Abhishek—an innocent, terrified man—and carried him like a hostage into our room.
He stared at us, horrified.
“These people are possessed! I don’t know them!”
He called Arvind, our neighbour and junior.
Arvind arrived cautiously and asked, “Bhaiya, did you have food?”
We chorused, “No… do you have anything?”
“Kheer is there,” he said nervously.
“Bring!” I commanded like a starving king.
He brought kheer.
We devoured it.
The sweetness was the last normal thing I felt.
My Turn
The bhang finally hit me like a train.
My head started spinning.
My insides vibrated.
My thoughts tangled like cheap earphones.
Abhishek watched in terror as I transformed into Pankaj 2.0.
Meanwhile, Pankaj dragged Arvind to the washroom and demanded,
“Come inside!”
Poor Arvind froze.
I told him,
“Your senior is calling you. How can you refuse?”
He looked like a sacrificial goat.
Thankfully, Pankaj changed the rule:
“Okay fine. From outside only. Put your hands on my shoulders.”
Arvind did as commanded, trembling.
By now, I knew if I stayed awake, anything could happen.
Abhishek begged me to sleep.
I lay down, gripping my bed like a man clinging to Earth.
It felt like gravity was slipping…
like if I loosened my grip, I would SHOOT into the sky.
“This is my planet,” I whispered,
“I won’t leave Earth.”
I closed my eyes.
I don’t know if I slept or fainted.
The Night of Loops
Pankaj couldn’t sleep.
A new nightmare gripped him.
He remembered he had Automation Lab the next day.
“If I sleep, I’ll miss the lab!”
Every half hour…
He woke up.
Got dressed.
Went to bathe.
Came back wet.
Changed clothes.
By morning, only one dry vest and one shorts remained.
He borrowed shirt and jeans from Abhishek.
Meanwhile…
Abhishek had called Rishi for help.
But Rishi…
Oh Rishi…
He was in his own dimension.
He had cooked puri-sabji THREE TIMES.
Each time he finished eating, he forgot he had eaten and cooked AGAIN.
When Abhishek called, Rishi said, “I’m coming!”
He took his flatmate’s bike…
but didn’t start the engine.
He sat on it and began pushing it forward while making “vroom vroom” sounds with his mouth—like a five-year-old pretending to ride.
He made it halfway to our place before a flatmate spotted him and dragged him home.
He resumed puri-sabji.
Then finally passed out.
The Hangover Day
Next day, I had to go to the department to arrange souvenirs for a dignitary event.
I stepped out looking like a zombie wrapped in human skin.
Sam saw me and burst into uncontrollable laughter.
“BRO. YOU ARE FULLY STONED.”
I tried explaining, but he only laughed harder.
Time moved in slow motion for me.
Voices sounded far away.
My limbs felt dipped in fog.
Sam drove the bike.
I slept leaning on his back like a tired toddler.
At the department, Rudra sir looked at me suspiciously.
Something in my face screamed “illegal herbal substances.”
He was thankfully too busy to ask anything.
In the evening, I met Pankaj.
We locked eyes.
And burst out laughing.
Abhishek teased us mercilessly.
Rishi was still sleeping in his room—probably dreaming of puri-sabji round ten.
🤦♀️🤦♀️🤦♀️🤦♀️🤦♀️Boys and their madness 😅😅😅
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