As we entered, one was instantly in a different world, indifferent to the rest of the world, of chaos, traffic, crowds. The lighting was a combination of blue dim lights as well as bulbs. Initially, one can’t really see anything else, except the assorted couches, tables and seats…
The atmosphere was….. well, cloudy, mostly because of the ‘n’ number of lighted cigarettes all around. I, a non-smoker instantly felt the strong sense of smoke and non-existent fresh air…
Wondering where I was? Well first time in a pub, in the two and a half years of residence in Bangalore (unless one counts the one hour I spent with friends at ‘Spinn’ before rushing home, about one and a half years back). I was at Legends of Rock, 80ft Road, Koramangala, sitting with a group of friends, all there to celebrate a birthday. It was just about 7:30 pm on a Sunday evening, and the place was hardly full - not empty; a few tables/seats occupied here and there…and some loners sitting at the bar’s table (I don’t think that’s what they call that), on elevated stools.
My friends had been there before, and supposedly the music was great here. For me, who has a somewhat a limited knowledge of English rock, that supposed fact didn’t really make a difference.
At the start of the evening, there were eight of us, out of which two (including myself) didn’t drink, while the others could gut down gallons if the occasion arose. One lady left very shortly, so basically ninety percent of the time there were seven of us. We (again, for all subsequent reading, ‘we’ basically means myself and my teetotaler friend) didn’t mind, so long as our mocktails were being served, along with starters of course. While all of this was being ordered, along with the expected list of alcoholic beverages, I looked around trying to understand what was so great about pubs that they were so popular…
Well, this particular pub was dedicated to Rock, as of course the name suggests. There was an electric guitar (figuratively), hung on the wall where the bar was, i.e. a guitar shaped frame with electric lights was pinned to the wall, there were several large size photographs of rock-stars on several walls, some posters of upcoming live shows in the same place and small fancy bulbs hung over the bar table. And as I said before, there were also several inconspicuously placed blue lights. Since there were virtually no other lights except these and the bulbs, the scene was kind of dark, dimly lit, as if not wanting to disturb the visitors. There were also two large size flat screen TVs – one on the wall next to the guitar, and another on wall next to the door, such that on entering the place, you are facing the bar with one TV, and there’s another on your left. Initially, they were not turned on, and only music was playing.
Except for a very few songs being played, most were unknown. Some songs I did know (selected songs of Metallica, Eagles, Nirvana, etc. etc.), that too mostly courtesy my brother, one of whose sudden passions would be to make me listen to some songs, convinced that I’d like them and most of the time, I did. The rest were all a cacophony of voices, guitars, and drums. However, one thing I’ve realized, one can get used to rock music; you listen to the songs a number of times, you automatically start liking them. It doesn’t matter that the voice of the singer sounds like he has a throat rash, and that he’s got no clue what he’s screaming. There’s something different in that genre of music.
And so, although the songs were all loud as hell with meaningless (to me) lyrics, the tiny thread of melody caught a hold of me and the rhythm finally got to me. With time, I also nodded my head, my feet start thumping slightly with the beats and I started liking the feel of the music…my mind became thoughtless, except for the music.
The people sitting around, all had some kind of liquor placed in front of them, but it didn’t seem that that was the only reason they were there; they seemed to be there for the music too. There were two groups (if you could call two people a group - I called them so just so I didn’t have to call them a couple. Well, they were guys and they COULD have been a couple, but well, 99 % chances are they weren’t; they were maybe just two friends out to have a good time) sitting nearby us. In one of the groups, the two were really enjoying the music; they were almost swaying with the beats, every now and then lighting a cigarette, and sipping the stuff in front of them… sometimes saying a word or two to each other.
As for the other group, well as far as we had observed, they hadn’t spoken a word to each other; they merely sat there, listening to the music, smoking (yes I think almost everyone there was a human chimney) and occasionally singing. They all looked to have come just to relax. I have no idea how much they imbibed, but they sure looked relaxed and comfortable and they didn’t seem to be going anywhere, (throughout the time we were there (some 3-4 hours), the place did fill up, but hardly anybody seemed to be leaving. The place seemed like a sponge, absorbing people into it, without letting them out…
When we had come into the place, we were not really sure as to how we’d spend our time there, seeing as we didn’t drink, and not really fond of rock music, and there basically wasn’t anything else to do. We were just friendly bystanders to a drinking lot. And of course how much could you have of ‘Safe sex in the beach’ (Haha that’s a mocktail), lime juice and chicken tikka. But as it turned out, we had a very entertaining evening, all thanks to our dear frends with whom we’d come and way too much beer on the table…
As we sat there, listening to music, and waiting for the food/liquids to come, we continued with our chitchat (I say continue because with us, there’s no stop to talk, only pauses). Our friends were alcohol-lovers all the way from college, so several embarrassing/revolting moments came up. We had several occasions to see them drunk but this was the first time we were actually there to witness the entire process and it was one funny ride. Some of their antics were comically stupid…. And I think I need to elaborate on those…
Because of the risk of getting sued, I’m not naming names, but since we need some pseudonym for each, here’s a brief description of the characters of this real-life comedy..:
Out of the seven of us, one was kind of an outsider as in he was a junior from college - lets call him Junior. We knew (know) him, but not that well. (All grammar tenses are going haywire). He’d just come to Bangalore and believes weekends are all for partying and of course drinking. He knows almost all of us…
Another guy – well he WAS an outsider, until he entered our lives and the residence of #232 (privileged information) about a year ago. Cousin of a common friend, he got a ready-to-serve friend’s circle when he joined his company in Bangalore; kind of cute, nobody gets enough of pulling his leg – whether it is because of the ‘n’ girls he talks to on Orkut/phone, or the seniors he keeps on visiting, or the one girl he believes himself to be in love with. We all love teasing him… and most times, he’ll seriously explain why this girl calls and that girl gets irritated if he doesn’t call her everyday. We have a great time around him - lets call him the Involuntary Casanova --- Mr. InvoCasa.
Mr. Bottom’s Up – well the name itself is self descriptive, and on which there will be more later. Besides that, well, I used to think him taciturn back in college; we hadn’t had much interaction back then. Now when I meet him, he’s much more talkative. He’s the one who makes the most fun of Mr. InvoCasa and yet advises him sensibly regarding some issues. We both have somewhat similar tastes in music, and share (I feel) a common feeling of being dispassionate.
We two (the two girls a.k.a the two teetotalers) are roomies as well as college mates; from the same college as the remaining three are. We’ll remain ‘we’ through this entire piece.
Another guy/classmate - he’d ordered Rum (as opposed to others who were all inclined towards ‘non-alcoholic’ beer); well what can be said about him? In the past, whenever he’s been drunk, if ever he calls in that state, well he speaks a whole lot of emotional stuff – stuff which he’d never say in his senses. Always maintains, during those times, that he’s NOT drunk…we also agree each time. Also each time, he’d repeat this sentence ‘Main acha insaan hun’ (I’m a good guy/human being (to be exact)). Let’s call him the Mr. AchaInsaan.
And lastly, the Birthday Boy – well let’s call him that only. He’s also from college, and he’d come all the way from another city up north to spend it here, with us in Bangalore. For him, that evening, almost every story started or ended with something to do with drinking. He’s got a truckload full of disgusting imagination, revolting thoughts and dirty (in the literal sense of the term) memories. (Ughhh!)
Now that the scene has been carefully described, and you almost feel that you’re sitting there with us….lets divide the time period we were there (3.5 hrs) in small pockets of easily distinguishable phases… in terms of consciousness…
1st Phase – 7:15 – 8: 15: The Preparation.
This period, I’ve already described partially; we were chitchatting. Except Junior, the rest of us were all pretty good friends, spending a whole lot of Timepass time together (except poor Birthday boy who is stuck in another city). Put us anywhere, at home, on the road, on the way to someplace, in a pub, we’d go on talking - about the past, about the present, and rarely about the future. It would never be deep routed philosophy or something inspiring... just memories; teasing, old jokes, old incidents.
After a round of photographs, the food and the beverages (or atleast the first round thereof) arrived. As we dove into the starters like we’d never eaten before, the rest of my friends prepared to start drinking their respective beverages (yes all alcohol). I say preparing because, one of them (Mr. Bottom’s Up to be precise) didn’t like the glasses in which the beer was being poured, so he asked the waiter to change them. According to him, the glasses should be proper beer mugs. The subsequent mugs on which they drank were huge; one would easily accommodate one litre in each. The guy having rum (Mr. AchaInsaan) didn’t ask for any such early changes, he just shook the glass, and kept it down, as if savouring it till the moment to drink.
When everyone was finally satisfied with their respective beverages, there was a moment of cheers, even though some had already sipped, and then began the marathon. The liquor started flowing while we continued our chitchat. As usual, some hilarious incidents came up (like how the other time one of them got drunk and what happened, etc. etc.); nobody seemed to be in a hurry, occasionally sipping, more frequently smoking. By now, I’d forgotten that exquisite feeling of fresh air. Sometimes talking, sometimes silent, listening to the songs (which were gradually progressing to louder, harder and noisier stuff), we got used to screaming and conversing with each other - such was the sound system of the place as well as the songs. As soon as a song started, someone would say, ’awesome song’ and then some bit of rock trivia would be mentioned, then some would head-bang slightly, and finally fall silent, just listening.
Then Birthday Boy ordered ‘Sheesha’ - flavoured smoke, which I was assured did not contain tobacco (or any such substance). He ordered the apple flavour; I tried inhaling deeply, but each time, I coughed up - it hurt my throat. I finally gave up. Everyone else took turns, with some inhaling with practiced grace, while others (like my teetotaler friend) coughed just like me. The ‘hukkah’, (in which the flavoured stuff was burning) was very royal in appearance - Silver exterior with a long pipe for inhaling.
In the midst of all this, we too sipped our mocktails, and had lots and lots of starters. The waiter who was serving us was so unobtrusive that when he brought the second pitcher of beer, we didn’t really notice. We had not seen anyone calling for the next round and yet the mugs were never empty. It was later that we realized that an almost imperceptible nod to the waiter by anyone present in the group meant another pitcher/peg/round. And then, the mood of the evening was decided by Mr. Bottom’s Up who uttered the most significant of the evening, ‘Aaj peeke out hone ka man hai’ (I’m in the mood to get drunk senseless). So you can guess were the evening was heading…
2nd Phase – 8:15 to 9:15: Mixed Reactions.
Well, our Birthday Boy had been drinking almost continuously; he’d become rather silent, occasionally he’d speak one or two sentences to us (mostly to myself and to Junior who were sitting on either side of him). None of realized how much he’d imbibed, until we noticed that he wasn’t really talking much. Neither was he smoking - Sheesha or cigarettes. After some time, he was completely silent; he looked sleepy – red eyes and rather drowsy. When we talked to him, he’d try his best to respond suitably, and open his eyes, then in seconds, they’d again go back to almost closed. Soon, they closed completely – he dozed off in his own party, sitting, head inclined front-wards. We all had real fun shocking him out of his drowsy existence - suddenly shaking him ‘get up get up’; he‘d wake up, look around, realize nothing had changed and go right back to sleep, all the while – not a single word; Hilarious.
Mr. AchaInsaan commented, that even back in college, sometimes Birthday Boy would be very verbose on such occasions, otherwise, oftener he’d be this way… some things don’t change. Mr. AchaInsaan had not drunk much. He seemed to be conscious of the fact that we were observing everyone, saving comments for future use; he was still at his first drink. Mr. InvoCasa was also at his first mug; he seemed to be in deep thought, also looking around in amusement – a tiny bemused smile permanently on his face, a cigarette a fixture in his fingers. All the while Mr. Bottom’s Up and Junior were busy drinking. While Junior was almost totally inactive in terms of conversation (now that his adjoining companion was in dreamland, he didn’t seem really in the mood to make small talk), Mr. Bottom’s Up seemed to remember all kinds of topics he wanted to talk about; nothing boring or fantastic, merely stuff... which could be interesting. We listened, sometimes genuinely listening and responding, sometimes, wondering why and how that particular topic had come up. But wait - just want to clarify; he wasn’t drunk (as yet), he was just talkative. It was in this historic phase that he spoke the words which became his namesake, ‘Bottom’s Up!’, holding in his hand an almost full mug of beer – Birthday Boy was out of the match, Mr. InvoCasa wasn’t interested, Mr. AchaInsaan was deeply involved in the videos playing on the TV (yes the TV got started sometime in this phase), so it was only Junior who responded, but in the negative; with folded hands as a sign of regret and apology he said, he wasn’t up to it. However, at Mr. Bottom’s Up’s behest, he did try - a defeated attempt; he paused even before halfway through his mug, while Mr. Bottom’s Up, true to his word drank up his whole mug.
More beer was on the way. As for us, well, we were really busy, listening to everybody’s stories, occasionally leaning to hear atleast excerpts of the tales so that we could conjecture the rest of it (it wasn’t possible to hear all of it – there was too much ‘music’ around), watching the videos playing, (some of them were bordering on vulgar, some morbid, while some weird..) and sipping occasionally….
Now, the music had gotten louder, if that was possible, and most of the songs were unknown, and even if they were known, the version would be different (I would have heard the unplugged hence soft version). It was truly difficult to believe that the song being played was just a different version of the same song - there were so much of additional percussion and other instruments added.
The crowd had hardly, if at all, changed; the two non-speakers were still there (I think), and so was the other couple - one was now constantly singing along. The waiters were busier, and place seemed full…
3rd Phase: 9:15- 10:30: Comfortably Settled.
This was the phase where the fun just got better. Birthday Boy was still asleep; after a lot of nudges and shakes when he could not be woken, we let him be - after all he was the Birthday Boy and if he wanted to sleep while he was drinking at his own treat, he could very well do so. The ambience was livelier… when familiar popular songs were played, almost everyone in the house sang along, some head banging, some playing air guitar, while some doing both at the same time. Mr. InvoCasa was rather quiet; now that I think of it, he had been rather quiet all evening. He would have been contemplating the ongoing problems with his current dame, all the way long distance in the faraway land seven seas apart, which had been discussed at length on and on and on, with no perceptible solution. Mr. InvoCasa was not really with us; he was lost in the obscure world of chat, internet, Orkut and Infosys… may his wishes be fulfilled.
Junior was also lost in the world of music, beer and silence - he just continuously sipped, occasionally getting up to relieve himself in the restroom, or attending a phone call outside (of course it was impossible to do so inside).
Mr. Bottom’s Up was at his loquacious best, talking about the past, the present and the future - college days, some senior who had had some issues and who had subsequently been part of a heart-to-heart discussion with Mr. Bottom’s Up, etc. etc. Although he had imbibed a lot of beer, he didn’t seem drunk, and each time his mug was full, he called out ‘Bottom’s Up’. Nobody joined him, but he sure finished his mug at one go. He also frequently went to the restroom, (each time somebody got up to go to the restroom, Mr. AchaInsaan giggled, and whispered to us as we leaned forward ‘beer peene se bahut bathroom jana padta hai..’ and some other disgusting fact about the same which is not worth mentioning here.
As soon as Mr. Bottom’s Up returned, he continued with his conversation with us because the rest of them were either too far to hear, or asleep, or disinterested. We listened, trying hard to ignore the fact that he was repeating himself pretty frequently. Then again, he’d get up for a visit to the restroom. At the late end of this phase, according to our trusted sources (Mr. InvoCasa and Mr. AchaInsaan - who were the only ones who didn’t look or talk drunk) he presumably threw up in the restroom (twice).
We had a sudden overwhelming feeling of pity for the waiters/cleaners at the pub – what a job; serve them, see them get drunk, ensure that they do, and clean up their mess, and then again get them drunk…
God forbid someone got sick within the seating area.
However, we tried to find something positive in their job – maybe they would be entertained by the endless stories, gestures, ‘nautanki’ of some of the customers when they were in the self-created world of ‘alcoholdom’. Who knows? Maybe… Maybe not.
We realized that we would be leaving soon, and we’d be hungry as soon as we left - the starters having been ingested a long time ago. So after asking everyone present, we perused the menu and ordered some sandwiches; everybody else vehemently refused, ‘no…we’re not hungry.’ But well, one should have seen how almost all of them repealed that statement and went straight ahead with the sandwiches (not that we had any problem). We had ordered one plate which had four pieces; well we managed to get a piece each I think. As I put my hand on the plate to get the second, it was seized by Mr. Bottom’s Up who didn’t realize I was about to take it. (Come to think of it, I don’t think he even realized that he was taking it). Considerate Mr. InvoCasa (its no wonder really that all the girls want to be married to him, he’s pretty sweet) asked us if we wanted the fourth remaining slice which he had in his hand. We declined, but seeing the ‘not-hungry’ appetites of all present, another plate was ordered.
It was when this second plate of sandwiches arrived that we realized that Mr. Bottom’s Up was totally and absolutely wasted - gone case, drunk, in another world. When the waiter set the plate down, opened a ketchup sachet, poured a little and left, Mr. Bottom’s Up started eating, now not talking much; he was slowly following the footsteps of Birthday Boy. When the ketchup finished, and his sandwich remained, he tried to pour some more from the almost empty sachet. Boy! His hands were shaking constantly; it was with an effort that he held up the sachet and tried to press it - he wasn’t able to even press the sachet; he had no grip. Somehow, after one whole minute of shaking it, one-two drops of ketchup very generously descended onto the plate. It wasn’t enough even for one bite, but Mr. Bottom’s Up was apparently satisfied. With one wave of his hand, he mopped the sauce with his remaining sandwich and ate it, as if that was all the ketchup he had needed. After his adventure with food was over, the arduous task of getting a tissue started. There was a tissue dispenser on the table, to his left, and there was a Special’s stand (where a piece of paper announcing the day’s special or something such is inserted on a small stand) to his right. For about 5 minutes (maybe I’m exaggerating a wee bit), he kept on taking out the Special’s sheet, assuming it to be tissue, then putting it back after realizing that it wasn’t. Then again, the whole process started. He kept at it for quite some time; I think it was only after we had realized what he was doing and had laughed our full, he became aware of his mistake and somehow pulled out a tissue and wiped his hand.
Except us nobody else had noticed; as we looked around, everyone else was in a haze. Of course Birthday Boy was still out, Junior didn’t seem to care about anything at all, except cigarettes and beer, Mr. Bottom’s Up was looking drowsy, Mr. InvoCasa still had that lingering smile on his face and a mug in front of him (he hadn’t drunk much but he was rather quiet) and Mr. AchaInsaan was on his 3rd glass (peg?) of rum, just staring at the TV, occasionally interspersing comments regarding the songs or videos or us. He looked to be sober and sensible, which was really surprising, considering his past record. Once or twice, he did ask us, ’You two must be having a blast making fun of us.‘ or ‘you must be thinking what a set of drunk friends you have..‘. We gleefully agreed.
He asked if anybody wanted anything else, preparing to ask for the bill (it was about 10:25). At that time, dear Mr. Bottom’s Up was in the restroom, relieving himself and wasn’t there, and so the bill was called for. When the bill came, and Mr. AchaInsaan took out his credit card on behalf of his buddy, Birthday Boy, Mr. Bottom’s Up decided he wanted another pitcher of beer. Looking towards Junior for agreement, (who very thoughtfully didn’t disappoint him) although how they were going to drink that was a mystery of cosmic proportions. Mr. AchaInsaan, disbelieving, and somewhat hesitating, again confirmed. ‘Yes’ came the reply. The now grinning waiter, who had a total look of disbelief and amazement on his face, (as if he was wondering where ALL that beer went and why had we ordered yet another pitcher) nodded and went to get that last pitcher.
4th Phase: 10:30 -10:45: Curtain Act, and Totally Drunk.
By now, our neighbours, the couples, had left, and had been replaced by other people who didn’t seem quite as interesting as the ones before. The place wasn’t emptying, but it was less crowded; it was time to leave.
Before the last pitcher arrived, Mr. Bottom’s Up had joined Birthday Boy in dreamland; he sat there, leaning back, but his head kept falling downwards. As his eyes closed, not even the flash of a camera could wake him. When the last mug from the last pitcher of beer (that HE ordered) was poured in front of him, he took just about a sip and then promptly went back to sleep. To help in finishing the beer, (of course it had to be finished - it was sacrilegious to just leave it there un-drunk) Mr. AchaInsaan gave himself to the cause, smoking a cigarette and asking the waiter to pour him a glass. Mr. InvoCasa had hardly drunk all evening; one of his unfinished mugs had even been finished by Mr. Bottom’s Up and obviously now too, he wasn’t interested in helping in such a charitable cause.
Unflinchingly Junior took a generous mug, he didn’t seem out of his senses; he was aware and yet he was drunk. As Junior and Mr. AchaInsaan worked hard at finishing the last remnants of beer, the bill was brought again. After a frantic search for a reasonable tip in cash for the waiter (supposedly if the tip was included into the bill of the card, that didn’t reach the correct person, and so Mr. AchaInsaan, true to his name always preferred giving cash), and retrieval of the credit card (paid very considerately by Mr. AchaInsaan as Birthday Boy didn’t seem to be in the state of signing anything), Birthday Boy was also rudely woken up from his dreams. This time when he woke, he was almost instantly wide awake; he refused the beer, and now sat straight, refreshed from his two hours of un-interrupt-able sleep (there’s no such word as un-interrupt-able, it basically means sleep that cannot and will not be interrupted even if Earth was smattered by asteroids and God himself screamed at the sleeper). He recalled his duty and asked for the bill, ‘it has been taken care of’, Mr. AchaInsaan giggled and informed him. Satisfied, Birthday Boy relaxed and laid back, now very much awake.
Finally we got up; the waiter was smiling ear to ear, Mr. Bottom’s Up had been shaken out from his drunken reverie, and informed that we were leaving. He got up, walked to the door, stumbled at several places, and started his descent to the ground floor (luckily it was just one flight of steps). As he held on to the stairs’ railing, we followed, pretty sure he’d fall. Amazingly he didn’t. As we assembled below, we decided to walk back home; our place was just 5 minutes away and most of the others didn’t seem to be in the state to drive their bikes). Mr. AchaInsaan and refreshed Birthday Boy, very chivalrously offered to accompany us back.
Hardly drunk Mr. InvoCasa escorted Mr. Bottom’s Up to the bike, an expression of worry on his face (I think the thought running paramount in his mind was what if Mr. Bottom’s Up vomited while on the bike?). Well just to keep you in the loop, Mr. Bottom’s Up did throw up, fortunately not while on the bike, but only after reaching the comfort of their home, on a chair, according to a harried Mr. InvoCasa who later called up Mr. AchaInsaan to give him the latest news.
Mr. AchaInsaan had told Mr. InvoCasa to warn Mr. Bottom’s Up that ‘usko bol dena agar vomit karega to khud saaf karega’ (tell him that if he vomits he has to clean it up himself’). I don’t have any confirmation on that happening.
Junior seemed to be in his senses; we shook hands. I just said ‘drive safe’, sincerely hoping he did, he said he hoped so too. (Again, to keep you informed, he did drive safe, fortunately.)
Our knights dropped us back home, sat for a while, socialized with our amused room-mates and then left home. They also reached safely.
And there ended the four phases of alcohol, amusement, and a lot of music.
By the end of it all, they didn’t seem very drunk (Birthday Boy was all sober while Mr. AchaInsaan would have reached the drunken stage had he had another round). During this entire comedy, we did repeatedly tell all our drinking buddies that’s they should NOT drink so much and then NOT drive. But well, who listens?
Our room-mates asked, ‘but why didn’t you drink, what did you do the whole time? You would have gotten bored.’ In the midst of unadulterated giggles, guffaws and laughter, we replied, ‘you have no idea how much fun it is to be sober when you’re with a group of drunken friends; we had a very entertaining time…’, and proceeded to give them a detailed description of the antics of our friends.
They believed, but didn’t look very convinced… maybe you aren’t too…
Ah well. You had to be there…:)
