Created by Oatmeal
Why isn't there a gay bar in Mumbai?
Jesus, this is pain. I am on my first GB party in about 6 months. I'm there alone and loud music is blaring through the speakers. Twinks and queens are dancing away to glory. Friends who came with friends are busy talking between themselves. There is a lone television set which is giving me company. It's showing the highlights from yesterdays World Cup matches. There are barstools placed just in front of the television set and people come and plop on them without a care about people watching the match.
I have a small whiskey in my hands and I'm taking my sweet little time to finish it because everything else is so boring. After I finish the drink, I decide I have had enough and get out of the venue out to the street hoping that there would be someone like me who has gotten tired of what's happening inside. There is no one.
Then I see the main coordinator of these parties walk in. He asks me how I'm feeling. I said I'm bored to death and am planning to leave. He suggests that I head off to the lounge were there is place to sit and there is no loud music. Apparently it's up the stairs. I walk up to enter this weird looking room with an 8-feet roof. Couches are splattered near the walls. I curl up in one hoping that at least internet will save me.
No, I was wrong. This place doesn't even have a signal. All I can do is to order for another drink and type in a blog post. So if an interesting person doesn't show up by the time I finish my drink, I'm so out of this place heading home to watch the England vs. USA match!
This brings me to the question - why doesn't Mumbai have a decent gay bar? A place where people can meet up and talk. Not dance. Conversation and drinks. Like the old-fashioned gay hangouts that you see in movies? I have proposed my friend and restauranter this idea. He's thinking about. Hope something comes out of it.
By the way I'm coming back home from this nightmare called the GB party!
I have a small whiskey in my hands and I'm taking my sweet little time to finish it because everything else is so boring. After I finish the drink, I decide I have had enough and get out of the venue out to the street hoping that there would be someone like me who has gotten tired of what's happening inside. There is no one.
Then I see the main coordinator of these parties walk in. He asks me how I'm feeling. I said I'm bored to death and am planning to leave. He suggests that I head off to the lounge were there is place to sit and there is no loud music. Apparently it's up the stairs. I walk up to enter this weird looking room with an 8-feet roof. Couches are splattered near the walls. I curl up in one hoping that at least internet will save me.
No, I was wrong. This place doesn't even have a signal. All I can do is to order for another drink and type in a blog post. So if an interesting person doesn't show up by the time I finish my drink, I'm so out of this place heading home to watch the England vs. USA match!
This brings me to the question - why doesn't Mumbai have a decent gay bar? A place where people can meet up and talk. Not dance. Conversation and drinks. Like the old-fashioned gay hangouts that you see in movies? I have proposed my friend and restauranter this idea. He's thinking about. Hope something comes out of it.
By the way I'm coming back home from this nightmare called the GB party!
Weekend disaster
Last weekend was a disaster. It was a double-day weekend, which occurs every fortnight and I was looking forward to enjoying it doing stuff that I'd normally withdraw myself from. Like going out on movie dates and other dates etc.
The weekend started out with a mood swing triggered my a flood of memories from the past when I visited CST after a long time. That was on Friday evening. I had reached Not Just Jazz By The Bay much earlier than my bandmates from Cirkles - we had a gig there, of course - and I had decided to take a stroll up to CST and see if I could pick up a book or two from my favorite pirated-book vendor. On the way, I passed Sterling and New Empire, which used to be my regular hangout destinations during my residency at the hospital.
To just relive the Sterling experience, I even picked up a Sub from the Subway there. I went to the book vendor and checked out the new books that he had. Not one aroused my interest. Besides, the guilt of not having read a book for a long time played its part. I was disappointed with myself when I walked back to Marine Drive having asked Babloo (the vendor) to get me a copy of Satanic Verses, something that I have been longing to read.
The disappointment prevailed until the gig started. Music triggered happiness and joy as always - especially while doing a rendition of 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' to a packed house at Jazz. It was our (Cirkles') 2nd anniversary bash. I came back home with hope of living a dream weekend that started with a friggin' early movie date with a good friend and fellow blogger. Then came the real disaster.
I woke up late and stood my friend up. He was mad at me and I was angry at myself. My apologies seemed to anger him even further and that hurt. And that triggered my bad mood for the rest of the weekend. I cancelled out three other dates - out of which two were potential 'getting laid' dates.
I didn't go to the gym for both Saturday and Sunday. I skipped meals, stuck to the apartment, and brooded in misery. I said no to all sorts of possible help. That's how crazy I am when I'm depressive. The only way out was to get to work and start interacting with people who care about me. I waited for that and that happened. By Monday evening, I was almost back to normal!
My friends say that I should prevent myself from being alone during these long weekends. Maybe they have a point!
The weekend started out with a mood swing triggered my a flood of memories from the past when I visited CST after a long time. That was on Friday evening. I had reached Not Just Jazz By The Bay much earlier than my bandmates from Cirkles - we had a gig there, of course - and I had decided to take a stroll up to CST and see if I could pick up a book or two from my favorite pirated-book vendor. On the way, I passed Sterling and New Empire, which used to be my regular hangout destinations during my residency at the hospital.
To just relive the Sterling experience, I even picked up a Sub from the Subway there. I went to the book vendor and checked out the new books that he had. Not one aroused my interest. Besides, the guilt of not having read a book for a long time played its part. I was disappointed with myself when I walked back to Marine Drive having asked Babloo (the vendor) to get me a copy of Satanic Verses, something that I have been longing to read.
The disappointment prevailed until the gig started. Music triggered happiness and joy as always - especially while doing a rendition of 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' to a packed house at Jazz. It was our (Cirkles') 2nd anniversary bash. I came back home with hope of living a dream weekend that started with a friggin' early movie date with a good friend and fellow blogger. Then came the real disaster.
I woke up late and stood my friend up. He was mad at me and I was angry at myself. My apologies seemed to anger him even further and that hurt. And that triggered my bad mood for the rest of the weekend. I cancelled out three other dates - out of which two were potential 'getting laid' dates.
I didn't go to the gym for both Saturday and Sunday. I skipped meals, stuck to the apartment, and brooded in misery. I said no to all sorts of possible help. That's how crazy I am when I'm depressive. The only way out was to get to work and start interacting with people who care about me. I waited for that and that happened. By Monday evening, I was almost back to normal!
My friends say that I should prevent myself from being alone during these long weekends. Maybe they have a point!
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