Happy New Year

It was New Year's Eve. He sat all by himself. Downing one drink after the other. Drowning his anguish, he drank until he lost count. And lost direction till he had to drag himself to bed. His head spun like a roulette wheel but his stubborn mind managed to somehow apply the brakes and he drifted into slumber. Five minutes later, he shuddered out of it. He put his senses together to figure out that the Haryanvi Jaats living upstairs were creating a ruckus, reveling in the joy of having survived another year in a place that they didn't belong to. 'They belong to hell', was his verdict. He went upstairs, rang the doorbell and out popped a character in a leather jacket embellished by a hundred zippers and a hairstyle that looked like it had been snipped in haste by some timid barber under the shadow of the Jaat's well oiled Lath. He explained the Jaat with all the calm n guts he could gather that he was being rendered sleepless due to their merrymaking. It took him three back to back explanations to get an assurance that they would cut down the volume and confine the mayhem. What he also got was an invite to join in the celebrations but...
He dragged himself to bed again. And tried to get some sleep.
But the Jaats had more obstinacy than alcohol in their blood. The promise was broken.
He locked his apartment and climbed the stairs a second time. And with the help of his jacketed friend, he joined in the celebrations. All the Jaats drank more and more, welcoming the outsider into their home. And he drank more and more, to send the Jaats to hell, to where he thought they actually belonged. He went slit chop split through seven throats with the demeanour of a gunjee & lungee-clad kasaai. Ironically, it was the very music that they were dancing to in their two room barsaati that brought them their death & silenced their screams.
Then he heard a thud. And suddenly felt a throbbing pain at the back of his head. With a dissolving vision, he saw a man with a Lath in hand. The man was drunk and had been lying unconscious in the other room. The man was the grief stricken, timid barber who had just lost seven precious customers on the dawn of a new year!