Bang-Bang-Bangalore -- The journey that didn’t change my life

It is stupid enough to believe god exists. It is inexcusable to believe he’s perfect.

I’m hideous, rude, shallow, coward & insufferable. I’m the living (& conclusive) proof of god’s imperfections.

Notwithstanding my glaring flaws there are few (very few) lovely souls who risk all they got & call me a friend. And they take it way beyond Facebook. They acknowledge me in public, hang-out & also let me lodge in their pristine homes. I don’t know about you but that’s called: Real Courage.

Anyway, I arrive on a threatening-to-rain morning in Bangalore (it rhymes with Bang-a-#@ore). Instead of my bosom-buddy Anish I find Akram on a bike. Anish is somewhere in Bombay saying goodbye to his soon-to-be-ex-wife.

Lucky basterd.

It is early. Hardly any traffic or people on the road. What all there are, are all dark. I instantaneously realize the opportunity to sell skin-whitening products & make a killing. That’s not racism, it’s opportunism. I’m from Delhi. The place where people have money but no soul.

I like this Akram bloke. He’s got this easy, no nonsense persona. And he reads. I like that in people. Anish doesn’t read. He’s a moron.

Akram leaves for work. I wander on the streets, take a nap & then hop on a bus & reach the workplace of Aisha. Her eyes light up seeing me. Gives me a violent hug. After suffering for 3 hours with Aisha, Akram saves me & takes me home in his super-bike.

We’re all set to watch this allegedly incredible film: Ootera. Anish enters the theatre at intermission. He’s fatter than usual. Still got that charming smile. We embrace. It’s like embracing a teddy-bear. Ootera finally ends. We rush to the exit. I recommend this film as a cure for Insomnia or to torture hardened criminals.

Then we commit a crime worse than murder. Eating after 1am. In this amazing restaurant we're treated like prisoners. There's no onions, no cutlery, no service, no chicken in chicken dish and to seal the deal, a big-fat-ugly-son-of-a-bitch rat is break-dancing around the block like he's made love to Megan Fox.

We sleep at 3am. Or was it 5am. I've nighmares of that fat son-of-a-bitch rat. 

In the morning Anish & me go to a Tea stall like we always did in Bombay. It’s not the same but I’m so happy to see this moron friend of mine.

We eat at some wannabe gourmet place & head for Anket’s place. I’m trying to be excited about meeting his wife.

After some excruciatingly long time in the damn car we arrive. I see the Gujju basterd waving like a turd from the balcony of his brand-new apartment. I skip a beat. I love this bloke.

We leave Aisha, Anish & Akram in the apartment & head out on the adventure of a lifetime. To buy a mattress. We bargain till the shop-keeper starts to lose his mind. We win.

Soon after our triumphant-return the wife arrives. She makes an entry. Anamika (the wife), Anket & me chat up in the balcony. The wind contributes the background music to our symphony.

Then we go back in & everyone starts to be social & talks about……………………. I don’t recall much. 

Few hours later, Anish, Aisha & Akram leave. They don’t want to drink & drive. They’re not true Indians. After saying bubyes to them, Anket & me take a walk to the holy shrine (the liquor shop).

We buy Vodkas & Whiskeys & snacks {nashta}. We head home on foot. There’s nothing like walking. Bangalore is tailor-made for a long walk. It seems Bombay & Goa had an extra-marital affair & they had a baby. The baby as we now know as Bangalore.

There’s a new entry in the house. ‘Hi, Apika’ she says. ‘Hi, Aarav’ I respond smiling awkwardly. I think I always smile awkwardly.

Bottles are uncorked. Glasses poured generously. Girls are drinking better than the boys. But, I don’t think anyone is a former Oktoberfest champion. Talks flow smoother than alcohol.

During the talks I transcend into the zone. Alcohol is the vehicle that drives me there. I admire alcohol for that.

Now I’m there talking with Anket, Apika & Anamika and I’m also somewhere else. Two places at once. And no one has a clue.

I’m now out of the unconscious default mode we mortals live in. I’m true blue conscious, like being on pure marijuana.

This is when I first notice Anamika. Like actually notice. I see she’s hot. Defined, symmetrical. 5 hours & I just realized she’s hot. Here’s why. She’s the wife of a friend whom I love to death. And that’s an understatement.

Even if his wife were Jennifer Lawrence (she gives me goosebumps) I wouldn’t notice unless I consciously pay attention.

You see how bloody gorgeously path-breaking that is.

We, men, are hard-wired at puberty to stumble, be infatuated & get blown away by hot girls. When we see them. We become dogs. That’s our greatest gift.

But here I totally missed it. I felt nothing. Even now when I’m consciously aware she’s hot. I feel nothing.  

This is the kinda stuff I call magic. True fucking magic.

Few more drinks later. At about midnight we head to an adjacent building to celebrate a b’day. Cake & Tequila shots are the windfall gains. Soon after the return the wife passes out. Apika also hits the sack half hour later.

It’s me & Anket. It is so easy with Anket. We don’t bullshit each other like ever. There’s no ego, no censorship, no half-truths, no fear. There is this astonishing calm, serenity. We’re at peace.  

I can’t explain our relationship any further without making it all sound too corny, too frickin gay.

Two hours later I’m so bloody sleepy. I fall asleep. I wake at about 11am. Others are already up & running. The aura of last night is dead. I know it is time to head off. I take a longish walk with Anket. Later he drops me at the bus station. I feel his heart sink. Mine follows.

I get lost on my way back to Anish’s place. I finally reach home after 4 hours. We’ve more company. Anish & Akram go out & return with terrible fish & awesome prawns. We gulp them down with Malibu. I don’t think Malibu is my thing. I loved the Coriander beer though. Pizzas arrive as promised.

We head with tasteless pizzas to the windy terrace. I love terraces. And terraces with such breathtaking gust are heavenly. Obviously the alcohol makes it all fly.   

Next two days are boring as everyone resumes office. I’ve to resort to television. That has to be the lowest point of my life. Television.

The day arrives & it is time to head back to the place where no one gives a shit about anyone but themselves. The capital of India.

Anish drives me to the station. It starts to pour like god is crying to see me leave. No, that can’t be right. He must be pissing on me. Yes, that sounds about right.

Bangalore may be the fashion-graveyard; people may have atrocious driving skills & full of ugly looking IT buildings. It has its soul intact. You better not take my word for it. You’ve to come & feel it. Come feel the air filled with magic. It may not change your life. But then how will you know if you never try.