Wednesday, February 28, 2007

(The Glimmer Twins with the Simpsons)
You know there's a point in everyone's life when they feel old. Every morning is a hangover, the days endlessly longer and you spend the evening getting stronger. Now a long time back, when I entered this place, I was young and impressionable. My work seemed simpler, I was paid to write about music shows, whisky to wine launches, author interviews, travelling to Bangkok and Macau for fuck all, fashion shows and other fancy stuff you don't mind getting paid for. Now you must understand that this term was short-lived -- nope, there were no fuck-ups on my part. Its just that there's a time and place for everything (what a fucked up cliche), and thus we must always carry on and on. We musn't get carried away into thinking that life's all about the limp-wristed (woe) men, 40 old ma'ams who claim '32 pleez', seriously weird DJs, men blow jobbing cigars, slurring Martinis and painted models and of course the feminist/NGO-type (shy lesbians, I think) Fab India clad blowing corrugated smoke and sharing dirty SMSs -- in believing that their nice, they don't give a shit about you.
The real test for a Page 3 reporter is to do the job: not get sucked into that life. It's quite cool while it lasts: important people from hotel owner to the guy who gives you a towel in the loo -- all sound sweetly pretentious. But before you smirk-grin and give that Madhur Bhandakar film Page 3 flashing on your TV-mind screen, I ask you to pause. Of course its true, as it strings many real episodes -- but damn, not everything happens in one party.
It's largely the same circuit that does round, no matter where you go. The same smiles, the same drills of air-kissing, the same one-liners, the same 'sweetheart, don't call me a socialite. I'm an entrepreneur', photo options, designations and writing a stupid 150 words.
Over the years, I think I've managed to enter every fucking whisky bar in the city. Interviewing their owners about how close they keep to the law and what people they let in to hang in and about. None of what they say is true, of course. But there's coolness in asking a question to hear a fucking lie.
There's also a clear-stupid law that exists in all drinking holes of our sweet fucked up city -- if you're 18 you can step in to one. If you're hanging around for a considerable time -- say 25 years old in there -- you get a permit to drink. It doesn't make sense, but who follows it? I get drunk, and in my unapologetic drunken stupor make faces at the admittance board that's framed in every place. Guess what everybody respects that.
Boy you should be there. Hookers, pimps, peddlers, wannabes, sluts -- there's a designation for everyone. But you have to keep level-minded, then there's trust. You have to build that with the guy who lets you in. You can't fuck around -- trust me: you don't want to fuck around.
'Clubbing' is as mixed up as the darn thing sounds. You need company to go with you, the company you will get will be a buch rich-spoilt idiots who will like to blow their folks money and despite the stubborn world they'll put forth, will chime 'mumma & puppa' on the breakfast table next morning. You have to willingly part with some Rs 5,000 grands to not even get drunk and keep a few hundred spare for the cop who sits right outside, on the bend of the road, to charge you for drunken driving.
Few places exist -- the trauma-drama life of a watering hole lasts for only 9 months. If it manages to outlive that then, then the village mafia of the neighbouring states make sure it comes crashing. Women hunting -- I mean, of course, harmless-teasing-hunting, means you're waiting to be hung like a cut up goat. Whoa, no chances.


Blogger lemonade said... wonder i havent started doing the whole 'clubbing' thing that my friends seem to do every single friday night..!!!!!

1:05 AM, March 01, 2007  
Blogger InExile said...

boy o boy do u need a change !!
how about doing the opposite of everything u do everyday ???

1:21 AM, March 01, 2007  
Blogger Ricercar said...

you know i often think of professions where you write for a living, and i think, i would never be able to do that.

3:51 PM, March 01, 2007  
Blogger Steamroller said...

Hey Jerry , Space Bar .

8:23 PM, March 01, 2007  
Blogger catmiester said...

uve had it upto ure neck in this... try something else, man!... better still go on a holiday, seems like u need it bad.

p.s. The fabindia clad NGO types are not really that fake/shy lesbians/wannabe feminists... whatever u may wanna call it. ;)

10:01 PM, March 01, 2007  
Blogger Field Commander M said...

You write with such passion J.

My heart now aches with a deep melancholy, and my mind is clattering on the cobblestones of a dark, depressing, deserted alleyway in a black and white photograph.


12:31 AM, March 02, 2007  
Blogger Aaki said...

you know, you're stuck in a very, very wrong place.
it seems to me like you're always surrounded by inaneness. escape it. they make very few of you.
sigh, etcetera. but really. i'd suffocate living amongst people with so much of wishful degradation, and the fact that they quite enjoy their lack of culture. grah.

10:44 AM, March 02, 2007  
Blogger The Dude said...

well my friend, youve just described all my reasons for despising those parties...
but its like someone once said, your a journalist, go there hang with them, but at the end of the day - be honest and brutal, thats your job...
theyll try to make friends with you, theyll make you feel cool and part of the group, but thats all bull crap.. if you were to really be a part of that group youd be to begin with and not going in with a press pass..
i dont think that you have any illusions about them and i respect that, so just be yourself and in the words of alistair lesley graham "keep it real"

3:28 PM, March 02, 2007  
Blogger IR said...

"the same 'sweetheart, don't call me a socialite. I'm an entrepreneur'"

very well written man,you deserve more than page 3

7:48 PM, March 02, 2007  
Blogger xanjukta said...

cop taking bribes... not on my watch!!!

5:48 PM, March 03, 2007  

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