<p>“I am not much of a drinker,” I said apologetically.<br /><br />“No one,” she said thumping an imaginery table “goes to a pub to drink.” <br /><br /> “No??! I though pubs were all about alcohol.”<br /><br />“You poor old fashioned old thing,” she said. “A pub is all about happening times.About living in the moment. About being with- it.”<br /><br />“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.”<br /><br />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.”<br /><br /> 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.<br /><br />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.”<br /><br />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.<br /><br />“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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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<br /><br />“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.</p>
<p>“I am not much of a drinker,” I said apologetically.<br /><br />“No one,” she said thumping an imaginery table “goes to a pub to drink.” <br /><br /> “No??! I though pubs were all about alcohol.”<br /><br />“You poor old fashioned old thing,” she said. “A pub is all about happening times.About living in the moment. About being with- it.”<br /><br />“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.”<br /><br />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.”<br /><br /> 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.<br /><br />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.”<br /><br />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.<br /><br />“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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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<br /><br />“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.</p>
