Night Life in Bangalore

They've long been saying that Bangalore has become boring ever since the pubs and discos began to shut down before midnight. But if you're in Cosmo Village, it's very, very different.

I've been pretty much a recluse for the past couple of years and now suddenly, under the influence of partying friends who live with me, I've become a party hound. Everyone's wondering at this sudden change. If my musty evening clothes shut away in cupboards could smile, they would. And now that I have got myself a car, we often drive down to Cosmo Village. Other car drivers smile as I jerk to a halt in the Piss Alley, in other words, Primrose Road, where this restaurant-cum-pub is located and my passengers go "Oouch!" as their necks threaten to dislocate.

Once up the dangerously narrow stairs that seem like they're leading to a sleazy place, we arrive at the third floor terrace with sighs of relief and park ourselves on the high stools. I avoid walking about too much because my stiletto heels sink into the gravel on the floor and make me wobble like I'm drunk.

The other night I took my pals out to celebrate my birthday and sang along with the friendly guitar man who was thrilled when one of my friends photographed me by his side. I had to do my best to stand straight on the gravel and not appear like my one leg was shorter than the other. And then they brought me a 'complimentary cocktail'. It looked wonderful in that elegant long-stemmed glass. Orange with cream flecked with what looked like blobs of crimson jam on top and a sprig of mint. Greatly flattered by this attention, I took a big swig only to say ""Phtoooo!" It was a vodka cocktail and my friends devoured it happily. "Come on," they said, "it's your birthday, can't you get drunk once a year at least?"
"Nope," I said firmly. "Never."
"Okay then, Miss Spiritual. Take three sips at least and we'll finish the rest." I raved and ranted a bit about how one must be able to enjoy life without alcohol. But I knew how they felt. I couldn't do without a joint myself at one time.

Well, at least I could hear what they were saying. No more smiling sheepishly when you pretend to have heard what is said through blaring music. That's the great thing about hanging out at Cosmo. You can actually hold a conversation and when the guitar man is absent and the music gets a bit too loud, you can always protest and they'll oblige. In fact, the Manager says sweet things like:
"No problem even if you come alone. We're here to give you company." And when your date is trying to find his way down Piss Alley to you, he'll even go out and help him do that.

Around 10:30 pm people come straggling in and finding no seats, stand around chatting to each other and casting their baits for the finest fish in the Single Sea. Much fish is caught. Some slip away, but the joy is in the baiting. Even strangers seem friendly in this place. It's like a party. The crowd, I must say, almost seems hand-picked. Nobody wants to go home when it's time to shut down. Everyone gathers out on the street and much is made about where to go next. Seems like there are 'Raves' out of town where you can party till dawn. "Raves?!" I say, shocked. "But I thought that's where people do Ecstasy."
"They do, don't you know?" they answer. "Why, the other night a couple of black chicks took all their clothes off at one of these Raves and there was a riot."
"What?" I cry, hitching up my Madonna -style bustier. "As long as they don't take this off!" But of course I've got to check out this Rave thing.

So I do. Three hundred bucks and what do you get after driving out to some out-of-the -way village? Blue lights, blaring 'rave music' tailor-made for guys tripping on Ecstasy, and a horde of lecherous, unstylish men who crowd you when you dance. Certainly not a hand-picked crowd. Falling all over the giant speakers with her loose trousers almost falling off her waist is a girl probably tripping on the drug. Her boyfriend sits by watching her as she swoons and staggers to the music. No more Raves for me. I'd rather rave and rant at Cosmo Village where the fish in the Single Sea are waiting for the bait. Oh, I'll let them off the hook, don't worry. I always do.
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P.S: This article was written years ago in my wild days. Today I live like a 'sanyasin' who believes that partying is a waste of time, and the new Cosmo Village has shifted.