After one-and-half days spent inside train, finally reached Bangalore from Delhi. Took an auto then to reach Anindya da’s place at CV Raman nagar. Discovered I’m the kid among their whole gang. It was first decided that we’ll go watch ‘Hangover – 2′ and ‘Ready’ (yes, the Sallu one) back to back, and then a dinner somewhere outside.
“OK, so it’s 15 to 5, and the first show starts at 5:30. Let’s get ready in 15 mins. It won’t be a problem to reach the plex in time by auto.” Anindya da (from here on, A) said. I dunked a batch of clothes in the washing machine, slipped into a pair of jeans and was ready to run in 5 mins flat. And there was Dipayan da (from now on D), searching for some documents in A’s room to scan, Subho da (S) doing baje bhaat with Munna da (M) in the balcony, and A calling Riddhi da (R) asking him to come to a bar in what sounded like half an hour.
“arey, what happened to the movies plan??”
-”Well movies can wait, and at this pace anyway we can’t make it by 5:30. For now we’re going to a beer bar”, A replied.
Fine, welcome to the world of working-youth-weekend-lyad.
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Myself, S, and D reached Jimi’s in Indiranagar by auto at about 15 mins to 6. R was already halfway through his first drought beer and A had just ordered a Cappuccino, and a Chicken Nacho after reaching there ahead of us in his bike. It turned out that I and R knew each other by face because he was in ISI for a couple of years doing his M.Tech. The first tower of beer was ordered, and since A turned teetotaler that night for some unknown reason, we the remaining four had the job of going through it.
Halfway through the first mug a ginger cat came from nowhere and sat beside me. Hardly you see a cat such amorous (?!), ready to be cuddled. It reminded of my Ponchu. It’d be another long 5 Bangalore weeks till I see him again. As for this one, it got some cuddles, gave some purr and then nonchalantly got up and went around the bar. Talk about cats being khamkheyali, but stray cat in a bar??
“Know what, I haven’t had a drop of water since morning”, R told us.
- “Post it in Facebook, and see the likes and comments flowing”.
the discussion was meandering in such arbitrary directions when we ordered our second tower, and I noticed on the plasma tv Federer leading Nadal 3-0 in the first set of French Open final. Just when we started discussing about the match and that shapely girl in white sitting in the sofa in front of the tv and the abundance of Bengalis in this city, the waiter came up and offered us in, guess what, Bengali if we want to come inside, into a room, complete with sofas, beanbags and a plasma tv. Of course we want to! Overjoyed and full of enthu, a perfectly sober A tripped on the floor somehow, flailing a sandal 2-3 steps behind, while rushing inside to get hold of one of the beanbags. Once inside, though, lyad set in like a dose of Morphine and soon we were making plans to come to this place every once a while.
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I’d been an admirer of Federer since long, and one cannot but marvel at the man’s artistry. Still, he had no answer to the ruthless Rafa. Nearly each game was getting dragged to deuce. Rafa won the first set 7-5 after trailing 1-4. He finally went on to win the match in 4 sets, absolutely decimating his adversary’s swiss elegance in the last set. Meanwhile we finished another pitcher and moved on to our third tower, hounding through a plate of kebabs and two french fries. Some dizziness was setting in, and of course the bladder was getting overworked (2 outings already), when finally Meta da and Gunda da arrived at around 10. Finally a couple of Pork ribs, and something else I don’t remember, were ordered. D convinced the hotel owner at 11 that 6 people can finish a tower in 15 mins, and so the fourth tower was called in.
The benevolent waiter turned out to be from Barasat, and his name was Sudam I guess. We took his cell number and promised to call him later to reserve the room for us. By 11:15 it was closing time of the bar, and we were politely shooed out. Each were given a plastic glass to take away his remaining share of beer. Barring A, all the others were doing bhaat over the now considerable stupor when we saw a patrolling van pass. I was just hoping against hope that the police didn’t see us when they pulled back, stopped and started shouting. Holding on to dear life we ran inside a side-road, and finished our glasses. Meta da went with gunda da, R went with D to the latter’s flat, and S and me returned in A’s bike.
Thus ends the story of the first weekend in Bangalore. It was really welcome break from the Delhi heat… the weather’s awesomely pleasant. Anyway, it was a start to remember… the story of the four towers.
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P.S. As A tells in the comment, we do have a correction here. It was actually FIVE towers, not four. It’s a pity I lost count!!