Over familiar through over use

The existing banality of it all is tiring. So there was this day out, when some of us went to watch a movie. And there was the familiar friends circle, a bunch of cool well-educated guys with that local stamp that makes their behaviour all so charming. I remember adoring these guys during my school days and some of my most memorable sporting days were with them. 9 hours a day of cricket during the summer, evening football games during high school, that 25 km cycle ride and a 3 hour soaking ritual in a swimming pool during weekends (yes, absolutely like buffaloes) and that glorious first day-first shows at the end of which we walked out like superheroes, cape and all.

So I met some of these guys after a long gap for a movie. Everyone was placed now and they came with their usual style, bella figuras with funky bikes, casual attitude and a walk like they own the place. We started our chatting and catching up and I realised that they still were the 'local machas' with that lovely stain of the streets of Madras on them. They were hooting and whistling and amusing people but to my surprise, there was an overdose of swearing. The gang was sans my usual close friends. If they'd come, it'd have been like that wonderful football game that Ayyampettai Arivudainambi Kaliyaperumal Chandran graces with his presence in Thillu Mullu (what with all of us having to lie to our bosses for getting off early to make it to the afternoon show).

But what started this way turned topsy-turvy in moments. The guys, I soon realised, were mouthing the same insults at each other and laughing for over-refrigerated and cold storage-d jokes. The laughter was indifferent and mirthless and was way too on-your-face. You say 'fuck' at the right moment once, it makes me smile. You say it 5 times, I shrug, you say it 10 times, it makes me feel uneasy, you keep saying it over and over, I just feel like walking away from your yammer and giving you the one-finger salute. And that's exactly how I felt amidst the group. Without my usual friends who jest at each other gracefully and stretch their imaginations miles apart to act out funny scenarios and creatively taunt the stronger guys in a way that makes the insulted, insulting and the spectators to laugh along and together, these guys were just foul-mouthing again and again putting on a loud exhibition of their shallowness and stupidity. And the situation slowly deteriorated from charming to boring to vulgar and to downright grotesque-ness. I was hanging around trying to conceal my frustration of having wasted a rare free afternoon and ruefully thinking of some blissful hours of sleep I could've caught up on. And then the movie started! Boy, was I relieved! And the movie, at least, turned out to be lovely. That was a real lifesaver. When we came out, the guys kept at it, relentless as they were, criticising the movie, the seats, the crowd. I edged away from the godforsaken group and got back home, deeply disillusioned. What a goddamn waste it is to be so living, as Sir Walter Scott puts it, to disappear into the vile dust whence they sprung; unwept, unhonoured and unsung!