A long long time ago, Bangalore was known as the clubbers’ paradise. Pubs boasting of imported liquor and clubs boasting of the sexy dance floors and sexier women in skimpy clothes that would promise a lifetime supply of eye-candy. Somewhere along the evolutionary line, things took a turn for the worse and Bangalore became a clubbers’ nightmare – strict curfews at 11:30 in the night, political bastards beating women up for drinking beer, cops taking a sadistic pleasure in accosting unsuspecting drunk drivers and the worst of them all, a steep rise in liquor taxes, ensuring the public that you could get drunk only if you have a salaried bank account. But, Bangalore being Bangalore, swallowed all these, shrugged and said in it’s trademark laid-back attitude, “Shit happens.”
Nowadays, it’s very ironic when someone tells me that Wednesdays are Ladies’ Nights in most clubs in the city, because if this isn’t the heights of hypocrisy, then I don’t know what is. It’s like saying, “We beat up women for drinking and just to keep things fair, once a week, we’ll give them a free drink.” Ridiculous, right?
Anyhoo, this isn’t a serious post at all. I haven’t lost my marbles and no, I haven’t joined a political party. I haven’t lost my soul and I haven’t slept with the devil. It’s just something I wanted to ponder upon. The main purpose of this post with the scandalous title is to narrate what happened yesterday night, after work, when all I wanted to do was go home and sleep in the comfort of my blue blanket. Three of us decided to get drunk.
I kept insisting that I didn’t want to go a place where there’s Ladies’ Night in effect, because that would mean I’m interrupting all the wonderful women who were enjoying themselves, bathing in the soft glow of green lasers, getting drunk and doing other things that women do when they are drunk. Someone had once told me that only gay men and sexually frustrated men go to pubs on Ladies’ Nights to ogle at women or to feel like one. I know its a twisted logic, but then, I didn’t want to be one of those men. I have never ever gone clubbing on Wednesdays. Till now.
I got royally drunk and reached home at one in the morning and I’m proud of the fact that I didn’t puke. Funny enough, there were more men at the club last night than women. It took me a while to figure out the concept of the free drink coupons and that only I was being asked to pay a cover charge and that as time wore on, all the men started dancing and that it took the women a bit more time to loosen up and join the gay brigade and the sexually frustrated brigade.
So, I’m putting the record straight – I’m neither gay nor sexually frustrated. I have nothing against these two clans and I hope we can live and let live. And let loose a few expletives from time to time.
Oh, I’m so terribly hungover!
Image Courtesy: Bangalore.burrp.com