Nightlife chronicles are an intrinsic part of Bangalore culture, and here's an experience post a few brews at the local. Everything is somehow meant to make sense.
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| I began humming Pink Floyd because I was On The Turning Away from Sathya's. No, I didn't, but oh well... |
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| ...there stood a Maruti totaller and an energetic Kinetic a little distance away. |
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| The totali-tea-rian 800 did not mind her picture taken despite the little ale in my exhale, but the Kinetic thought I was a lunatic. |
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| So I walked on down the road, and was to be reminded of how so many of us Lived And Let Hyundai even back then. He was old and grey and wise, and solemnly told me all his counterparts today still can't argue the case of his space. I had to agree. |
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| We've still got plenty Xing, yelled a younger brother from down the street a little further... |
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| It took me back a couple of months, when I ran into an iconic rock star on the side of another road, but on a night just like tonight. |
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| He said to me, "I'm Simon, but You Can Call Me PAL." And only because I told him his black bumper and headlight rims brought back fond memories of my childhood customisation dreams. |
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| Snap back to nightlife, back to reality. I was almost home now, when there stood an Omni between a green and a lean tree. |
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| I tried to chat, but he didn't say much. "Keep walking", he snapped, "And next time, don't do the talking. Po da!" "Omni po da!", I responded, and ran all the way home. |
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