Special Lassi by Amrita Chatterjee

Author:Amrita Chatterjee
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Special Lassi
Publisher: Jaico Publishing House
Published: 2015-01-28T16:00:00+00:00

Deep in the Heart of Thamel

Our first jaunt in Thamel consisted of getting soaked in the rain, jumping over puddles, diving into narrow alleys and trying to dodge this junkie who kept hounding us with his stash of excellent hash, opium, ketamine, acid and a catalogue of prostitutes. Basically, whatever our hearts desired, he could give it to us at a reasonable price.

“No, no, we don’t want all this. We want some special lassi. Do you have that?" River persevered despite the odds.

“Yes sir, I have everything. Just come with me to my house!"

“Really? Let’s go!"

I had to intervene at this point and convince River to find a hotel first.

“Sir, if you buy hashish from me, I will take you to a very good hotel and get you a discount."

Now this was an offer we couldn’t refuse. And he did take us to a very nice hotel in addition to providing us with top-quality hash.

“Okay, I might just have to change my opinion of Nepal." River conceded while we got high.

What followed this was sleep, hours and hours of uninterrupted glorious sleep, cushioned by the intriguing street noises of Thamel. I wasn’t planning on waking up anytime before noon the following day, but hunger and curiosity eventually compelled me to take a shower and peek outside the window later at night. The transformation was unbelievable. There was no sign of rain, all the puddles had mysteriously disappeared, big neon signs had lit up the narrow alleys and the music, oh the music! I immediately changed into the only dry pair of clothes in my bag and emptied the rest on the floor.

“We need to get out – now!”

The days spent in Thamel were the only time I regretted not bringing any decent clothes with me as it was more Soho-esque than a third-world dump. Our first stop on the long road to hedonism was a posh pizzeria called the Roadhouse Café. It was filled with elegant mahogany interiors, corn cobs on the ceiling, red chillies and chains of garlic on the walls, and the maddening scent of fresh wood burnt pizzas served with copious amounts of brandy, clove cigarettes and exotic coffee brewing in the corner. It was arguably the most perfect antidote to the bus ride.

I ordered two tall mojitos and a tiramisu to set the ball rolling for the rest of the night. Next up, an Irish pub. A night out that does not involve a detour to the nearest Irish pub isn’t a night out at all. To my delight, the one in Thamel also had a great live band playing. Mountains, peace, monasteries and momos – I forgot all about them and had three more mojitos, a long island and some beer. Third stop, a cozy garden restaurant with an old Nepali man strumming his acoustic guitar under a tree and crooning classic Bob Dylan songs. As he finished the last verse of Masters of War, he stroked his grey beard thoughtfully and asked, “what do you think Bob was talking about in this song? Big American politicians, I guess.

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