October 20th 2:19pm - Diwali: The Festival of Lights

Diwali is the celebration of inner light awareness. It celebrates the pure and eternal beyond the mental and physical.
Translation: Diwali is the festival of lights, or, fireworks set off by babies aged three to five.
We returned from the camel safari by noon, met at one, and, after a meal and alcohol purchases, were drinking our coherence and consciousness away by four on our rooftop restaurant.
By five-thirty we were so bladder blasted that one Brit lit the book The Power of Now on fire and tossed it over the four-story ledge. His concern for what was below paralleled the interest blue whales have for Watergate.

By nine the other Brit disappeared like Harry Potter. He said he had to go to the bathroom. Three minutes later the Kiwi identified him Forrest Gump-running to his guesthouse. We didn't see him again until the next morning.

After five bottles of Old Monk rum, we were so futhermucked that I repeated, "I'm on the rum!" as often as I urinated.
As sly as a bald guy, the German girl asked us if the Irishman had a speech impediment. We Pillsbury-Dough-Boy giggled and questioned why she thought that.
"Because he says 'tink' instead of 'think.'"
"That's just an Irish accent," we informed her.
My success at keeping a straight face aligned with my nonexistent mathematical triumphs. We forayed the firework-strewn streets. In a Hindu-dominated country where cows are as sacred as the Pope, the Kiwi picked up a calf and rode a cow. He also held a lit firework that more closely resembled a rocket.

The next morning, I woke up fully clothed face-down and backwards on the bed in the room next to mine. I was so hungover I felt as bad as if I had dropped a baby on it's head.