MONOPOLY MADNESS

We were in our 11th class when we were infected with the rare disease of playing Monopoly every time we got the chance—especially at night—like madmen. Usually, the game can be played by up to eight players, but it was a standard for us to play with four players, along with a bank manager in our room. If a fifth player or more were interested, then they had to form a coalition with one of the four playing members. That was our rule.

Our version of Monopoly came with a set of rules and limitations of our own. For example, in the actual game, winning Monopoly means having a monopoly over all the properties on the board. But as per our rules, we played till our hearts' content, and when we felt enough was enough, that was our cue to end the game. We even had rankings for the players at the end of each game. The rankings were:

1st place – King

2nd place – Minister

3rd place – Police

4th place – Doddichambu (a metal pot traditionally carried while going to attend nature's call—not thief.)

So, we played with one sharp focus—not on winning the game, but on never finishing last. Because whoever did had to carry the title, and the humiliation, of being the 'Doddichambu' till the next game.

Unlike a perfect Monopoly set that came with everything, ours was short of hotels (the red wooden pieces). To compensate for that, our bank manager (mostly, Srikant Raju shouldered the responsibility) would give out two houses (the green wooden pieces) in place of one hotel. Most importantly, we were short of money—the fuel that kept Monopoly running. There were days when even the bank, the very institution that gave out loans and kept the money circulating, had to take huge donations from each player just to keep itself from collapsing.

There is one surreal incident that took place during the frenzy of those Monopoly nights.

One day, I slept off pretty early after losing badly in Monopoly, I presume. But my friends carried on, full of enthusiasm and energy. I don't remember a thing, and honestly, I still can't believe what happened. But apparently, it did happen—that is the popular opinion.

According to my friends, I suddenly woke up, sat upright, and, with my eyes still closed, asked for the dice. As if possessed by some spirit. Without much thought, and rather fearfully, one of my friends handed me the dice. I rolled it.

Then, I instructed them to buy me Trafalgar Square.

Before my friends could even reach a consensus on whether they should buy me Trafalgar Square or not, I simply dozed off again without saying another word.

That's it.

All my friends were terrified. They were confused about what to do and, more importantly, what the heck had just happened. One of them finally gathered the courage and woke me up, shaking me vigorously.

When I actually woke up, with all my senses intact, they explained the whole incident and demanded answers from my side. They had at least experienced it—I had absolutely no clue how it had happened. Maybe my subconscious was still in the game.

Whatever it was, we didn't stop playing Monopoly.

As they say, all good things have to end. After some days, the craze died —or what happened, I don't know. We abandoned Monopoly to the extent that we didn't even speak about it anymore.

In the course of playing it, we were devastated, hitting rock bottom at times, and puffed with pride after becoming the richest player at others. Of course, it was a fictional game, played purely for fun. But somehow, it gave us much more than that.

Till next time, take care and be happy.

Goodbye.