Trippin’

This story is by Karishma Krishna Kumar and was part of our 2017 Spring Writing Contest. You can find all the Spring Writing Contest stories here.

The airplane hit the tarmac. Smack. Cock and cold. I know, it’s old. But who knows? It shows. How? Maybe you and I, we would have known, no? Slow, baby, take it slow. Air hostess, tight ass and hot as fuck, why am I an ugly duck? Grey coloured, breasts like watermelons, waist like the stick on a mop. It’s fine, it’s India time.

***

Cold roads, wind in my hair, I swear. Who the fuck knew? A rickshaw ride could be so blue? Blue; yeah them Shivas too. Rolling stones, tongue out, blotter in my mouth. Rant rave repeat. Sweet. Hoffman came riding on a cycle, which one? 2000 anniversary edition baby, sway, today. We’ll make history. Epiphany.

***

Is this fucking real? Don’t swear. This is the real deal. It’s bitter? Yeah fucker, that’s how it’s supposed to be. Chew it, don’t swallow it. Why? It’s bloody bitter. Jesus. Purple Jesus, shhh… we’re in India, no? This is Goa, Russians and bikinis, we’re cool, no one cares. Jack and Coke, yes, yes, who dares? Alcohol and a stamp, are you out of your fucking mind? Who knows? We won’t until we give it a shot. Blot. Paper against tongue. We won. What is inside the fifth dimension? What is it fucking made of? What happens if we go through the black hole? Will we come back? Will we want to?

Candyflippin’ all the way to Tuesday. MDMA. No way! Yes way, sway. It’s okay. I got you. I got you, babe. We got this. Jason. Stop. Your mom is home, Joshua too. Fuck. Now what? Let’s go to Velanie’s?

Who the fuck is she? The DJ’s girlfriend. Do we know her? We’re tripping, who cares if we know her? Would you rather sing midnight mass with my mother? No, fuck no. Never again. Acid is a fuck. We’re done. The beaches, the sun. We’re done. We’re 17, this is all too young. Soon. Fuck. I am a writer. No, fucker, right now you’re a tripper. Spin, spin, deeper in. The spirals. Oh motherfucker, is this trip over? No, it’s not. We’re not. You’re not. There’s still some of you left; to find.

***

Fast forward to Bombay, the city streets, highways, fast trains, local. Slow, girl. No, fuck no, give me some cocaine. Ha! Coke? Snow? Charlie, fuck me, fuck me baby. All the way to Ecstasy. Breathe. This is India. Taj Mahal? No, Hotel Taj, you dick. They bombed it. Did they? Fuckers. Kasab, motherfucking whore. Sure! He’s just like us. Looking for a rush. Adrenaline. Something, fuck me. Give me something. Anything. Sing. Who? The blues baby. Sita sings the fucking blues. Did you watch it? No yo, I was trippin’, still flippin’, my mother’s callin’. Chill. Keep it simple; don’t tell her, Albert is riding his cycle. Don’t tell her! No!

***

I’m 21; this is the high life, clubs and Wall Street. Bangalore, the land of Pubs. Astrix is playing in Palace Grounds. No, man, no. I can’t do another one. Let’s go to Purple Haze, please. Please. Fuck you; it’s been 3 years since our last trip. So what? Let’s not. No, no yo. I got something new. What? Blue Shiva, the destroyer. Let’s do it. Bangalore is so blue, let’s colour it the fuck up. Visuals, some funky shades. Some hue. Come on. You know you want to. Fuck. Fuck me. I’m 21. You know you want to, son!

***

Pune is quiet. I need my fix, MBA. Cray, Cray, all the way. Let’s get our shit together. Getafix. Yeah baby it’s new. Fuck me. Fuck you, too. Come on. Just another one. We got this. Oh we got this. We’re old. Old and grey. Sway. I got some Lamas too. Do them both, why don’t you. Two stamps that, one stamp this. Set. Rock and roll baby. Love, sex and Drugs. LSD. You bitch. Snitch. Call your mom first, before we go down that damn rabbit hole. Soul. Mom, I’m going to bed. Long day at college, then work. I’m fucked. Don’t swear beta, don’t. Fuck me. Fat Freddy’s Cat. Combat. You and me. I love my mom. Don’t know why I’m doing this. Bliss. Baby, sway.

***

Delhi in December, I’m nearly 30, its cold. Too cold. Oh ha! And you want to still try the New York winter? Fuck you, fuck me too. My dreams, that fucking tattoo. You’re Cray. Yeah you too. Let’s blow. No way. No MDMA. Ugh. It’s Molly now! Fuck off. Mary Jane, Molly and who else flew? Charlie, fuck you. Fuck. You. Alice? You want some Alice? No, man I got a kid on the way. Sway. Extend the tongue. Ganesha. Now your turn. Tongue out. Buddha. What’s this trip? Its calm, it’s serene. We got this. We got this. It’s a boy. I am a father. It’s a fucking boy. Let’s trip him out too. No, fuck you. My wife doesn’t know.

***

Nepal. Let’s drop. Bungee jump. Zip line. Hop. Are you insane? I paid for this, you play. It’s my fucking game. Screw you. I got another kid on the way. I don’t care. I’m an artist. No kids. No tubes. Tie up. Fuck. All Seeing Eye. What the fuck is that? New one on the market. I got a better one for you. What? Golden Chakras, because you meditate and shit. Fuck. Christ. Buddha. I’m doing Krishna. What? That’s my name. No, it’s a blotter too. Fuck me. I’m famous. Not yet, you’re not. You will be. I’m a daddy. Blew my mind. This unknown. Divine. I think I’ve found God! Nope, just the Land of Nod.

***

Hi, I moved to Chennai. Madras? Down south. Oh fuck, your kid’s in high school now? No, you piece of shit, just joined kindergarten. Where are you? Come home. Come home, I got us a vial. What? Drop? Yeah, it’s been 10 years since our first trip. Time flies, you fuck. Come home. Shanti.

***

Will 5D blow our mind? Did 3D? Or did it just make everything just a little bit clearer? Roll one. Blunt. Sigh. Is the fifth dimension nothing but motherfucking clarity? Ha! There you have it! It’s motherfucking singularity.

Interstellar and its motherfucking bookshelf scene. What? Puff. Puff. Pass.

***

I’m on a trek. Yeah 60, 000 feet above sea level. I miss you guys. My hair is grey. Sway. Dude. It’s fucking Sunday. My wife is at Mass, with my mother. The kids are with me. Fuck it. Come if you can. Dharamshala. McLeod Ganj, small towns; of Tibetan refugees. Freeze. What the fuck are you doing there? Dharamshala International Film Festival, baby. They’re showing my movie. Ha Ha. Yo. Show. Slow. Baby, Slow. I’ll get you a Gorbachev from Goa? The Russian? Fuck! No! How? Someone gave it to me, for the third one’s Baptism.

***

It’s late. It’s Ahmadabad. No alcohol. I want a fucking beer. Dear. Fuck, I got something better. What? Tantric Buddha for you. Praying Buddha for you. And Blues for Allah for me, too. Two? Yes fucker, eat two. And have some Feedback from Beyond. We’re all set. Let’s roll. Yeah, roll me one too. Green? Fuck that! Roll me some black.

***

It’s winter. It’s New York. Where are you? Somewhere in the sky, somewhere beside the moon. Swoon. Baby. Swoon. Soon. Soon it’ll be June. Some other boon. Singing to a different tune. Solo. The ego death. Macbeth. Throw in some Shakespeare too. Death ends. Babe. But this trip? This trip could go on forever.

***