On Bars In Delhi (V/X)

Ah, the modern day mating ground. Every evening is approached with the same fervour as the weekend. Social dynamics have a way of getting particularly interesting once lowered inhibitions and social personas are thrown into the heady mix. There are a few select groups of people I usually visit the familiar watering holes with but assume a vantage position and you’re sure to observe certain patterns every weekend that passes. I’ve seen the least likely contenders, complete with DU-patterned kurtas and spindly limbs grooving to artists you’ve never heard of before, the proverbial ‘cool kids’ and their cockier coterie lining up the back rows much as they did in school, the token white guy, his eyes ablaze with the promise of salvation and charas, I’ve seen people asking each other the same tired questions times and again, opinions getting louder and more fervent as the bottles get emptier, small talk as the most frequented version of flirting, bars in Delhi are a different kind of jungle. You can expect to find waxy gym-boys who drink vodka from frosted glasses in the same vicinity as girls with their own brand of hipster chic. There’s something almost redeeming about watching a group of people grow significantly hornier on the weekends. Beauty really does lie in the eye of the beholder; especially when you’re down a few drinks. As a friend puts it, I just hope you remember his stand on minority politics as he makes you come (or not) later in the night.