About getting Bangalored out

“I am not much of a drinker,” I said apologetically.

“No one,” she said thumping an imaginery  table “goes to a pub to drink.”

“No??! I though  pubs were all about alcohol.”

“You poor old fashioned old thing,” she said. “A pub is all about happening times.About living in the moment. About being with- it.”

“I'd like to be with- it,” I said eagerly. “It’s not very nice to be without it when everyone else is with-it.”

She looked baffled but she let it pass.” Alright now, put on your glad rags and get us to a place that is most happening.”

 That is how I found myself in the sinister womb of a cave called ‘Moonlanding’, being very with-it and just a little Bangalored-out on a martini.

We were living in the moment. Except that the moment was rife with potential cancer with the smoke of a hundred cigarettes. The  music was doing its utmost to rupture as many human ear drums as possible. And a buzz of many voices screaming small talk rose like the swell of a Tsunami. And people milled about as if hiding from terrorists. My friend from Mumbai was delighted. “Relax”, she yelled in my ear , “live in the moment. This is the life.”

Huh?If this was life where had I been living all these years ?I tried to share my bafflement with my friend but she  waved a hand near her ear to say she couldn’t hear. So the language of the moment had to be lip reading.

“Let’s sit in that corner,” said my friend. At least that's what I lip read her now neon purple lips. Maybe she said something else. Like, “what on earth are we doing here?” But she was leading me to a 4 inch by 4 inch spot someone had just vacated.

We jack-knified into it and I  set about trying to look like someone who was living  in  the moment. I tapped the table to the beat to look very with- it. I even jerked my head up and down to the music. “Your Bangalore is a great city,” my friend shouted over the noise. The waiter had to thump her back to end her coughing fit.

I tried to shout back to say how much I was enjoying being with- it. Then I thought better of it. I may be slow but I am not dumb. I mouthed the words. Silently. She shouted something back. I mouthed a silent answer nodding sagely. I even added a few hand gestures for emphasis. Till I knocked my neighbour Mr Very Bangalored -out  glass into his lap. He gave me a look so dirty I needed no lip reading at all. After a long and very profound conversation that lasted two hours, we elbowed our way out only because it was close to closing time. The silence outside felt strange

“You are lucky,” croaked my friend , “to be living in this  happening city.” “I’d be happier if I knew what on earth was happening.” I mouthed silently.