Hanging out with a couple of new friends last night, without a few beers either in hand or stomach, and telling stories about our own yesteryears, I realized there are so many of them I remember so vividly that I feel reliving them every time I narrate them.
I have no qualms in admitting that I have spend the better part of last 8 years (excluding the last one year as a married man) in a haze induced by alcohol-based beverages. The haze lightens the mood, frees up the conscience and you end up doing stuff which even your sober self considers ridiculous… and that at times does create stories worth telling
But these stories weren’t all lived with Old Monk filled bellies. Most people won’t even find them ‘up to the mark’. These aren’t even stories that changed or shaped my life. These simply are simple stories close to my heart…
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