It was the Christmas party, almost an annual event, the same people, the same boat.
The wind was chilly, temperature below zero, the water had not yet frozen. It was going to be a white Christmas for the second year in succession. The whiteness evoked the remembrances of their child hood, when it used to be so. The global warming had taken a toll on the winter and had robed the Christmas of its charm. It had snowed yesterday, a few feet of it, the whole landscape white as it should be, the air expectant, the faces joyous, the mood festive. We were all huddled up on the road side, waiting for the captain to announce that he was ready. All dressed up in jackets, overcoats, packed for the onslaught of the snow. All young and old, mostly people from different companies, got together for the Christmas dinner. The chef was a famous one, all liked his food.
The gates opened, in a file, all men and women poured in, off went the coats, on the hangers. The hue changed , the dark colors off , the colors prominent. The women looking gorgeous, beautiful, the men the perfect gentlemen. It was an unequal balance, men outnumbered the women. But still the atmosphere was joyous.
As we settled down, we occupied the 2 long tables and a small one, as we were the largest party. Slowly the rest also settled, it was a house full. The chef took the center stage, announced what was on the plate. A huge round of applause for the chef, for it was the traditional Swedish Christmas dinner. A large set of traditional salmons, and a bar full of drinks was in the store. It was the same chef, we exchanged greetings and he said “oh I will have to make some Veg stuff again”. It would be different but you would like it. I said sure, your cooking is always a pleasure.
The boat started, out into the waters, disturbing the calm, moving into the night. The dinner started with the traditional Christmas drink. The chatter gaining momentum and the noise level reaching a higher note. The table besides mine was occupied by a 5 member group, 2 women and 3 men. The women seemed joyous, but alas I did not understand a single word. Our chatter too started, we were as usual discussing business, in contrast to the environment. The orders were being taken, when my chance came I said milk, I heard a sound “what” I said milk and back to the discussion. There was a sense of incredulity in the voice, and it was good I did not look at the face. My business associates and colleagues being used to this eccentric behavior of mine, did not notice it. Even on such a occasion, the business was being done, work always had a higher precedence. A deal struck, a merger done. I was thinking, would I ever enjoy the way the others did.
As the drinks flowed, the hum rose to a den, the discussion was near impossible. I had to strain to listen so finally we called it a close, and went down to the table to pick our plates. As usual, there were limited things for me (veg) and no hence no dilemma. The others were deciding what to pick and what not, they had the problem of plenty. Traditionally it is a seven course dinner, before the deserts. So there was plenty of time for it, and the drinks doing the rounds, and keeping all busy.
As I was the host, it was time for me to mingle. I changed the tables, went around, and chatted to a few. Suddenly out of the blue, a colleague said, you are the best boss I ever had. Then he followed it up with saying I am not drunk. There was laughter around the table. The atmosphere was light, there was a steady banter. The colleague said, let me introduce you to the woman on the other table, and before I could say anything, I was being introduced. In a while, the English vanished and it was Swedish, then suddenly the colleague said, she was inviting me to their table. I declined politely as I was the host here. The guys laughed and said I had chickened out. The flow of drinks was unabated, their system being loaded with it, though they were accustomed to a lot of it, but still it could be seen that the drinks were beginning to have the effect. The discussion hovered around the lifestyle and the gaiety around the Christmas time. Sweden is a more open community when compared to India. There is a culture difference and it was evident here. I can’t really put he banter which followed down, but what I realized that when drunk people do open up. The real feeling come out. I moved to the other table. Some guys were sober, I asked then aren’t they enjoying. They were but in a different way. Every individual is different, some talk more when drunk, some get into a shell. Some who were sober discussed the way the things were moving, sales, how and what we were going to do in the coming year. Almost everyone had the question if I was enjoying it. I was I said, it was the environment and the gaiety which had to be absorbed and enjoyed.
After a while I had a stroll around the deck, the cold wind blowing, the sea water gushing around. The darkness around, punctuated with the lightning of the shores. The city had a festive look. The big steamers, Vikings passing by, presented a good view. The water at places was beginning to crystallize. Soon in a week there would be ice all around. My stay at the deck was less, for I had to mingle around.
We continued to sail for almost 4 hours, and soon the time went by and in the end I was the only sober guy around. The din was the highest, the laughter loud. The coats and jackets on, and the departure started. As I was the sober on I dropped a few colleagues, and the rest took the subway. As I drove back, I though, I can’t do what most could do. I could not even get drunk and be light to enjoy as the others did. I realized I was different, but then I did ask god again. Why me?
