Philosophical Outpourings on Blogging, the Internet, Bad Humour, Mallification of Bangalore and Justice

I entered Forum somewhat nervously, knowing fully well that I was underdressed for the occasion. Bangalore somehow never gave me this feeling before. I'd walked through its busiest thoroughfares and its most fashionable areas in nothing more than faded, grey shorts and bathroom slippers. Forum was a different world - it was like Gurgaon had been transplanted to Koramangala. I've written previously also on Bangalore and its malls, and my (our) theories (my roommate, fiance, lover - Arun - known in the comments section as "ax", collaborated with me on that theory) were strengthened by what I saw that day.

Anyway, there was no time for me to think of the sad state of chillers and chilling in Bangalore - the chomised, made-up, loud, brash, brand-conscious, franchise-chilling was here to stay. I had a mission - it was like in a detective novel. I had a photograph and a vague description - Black Sweater. I looked around matching every woman in the relevant age-group to that description knowing fully well that she had messaged me saying she would take some time more to arrive. Maybe I was reading too much Raymond Chandler in the recent past.

There is this thing about meeting people from the internet. You don't know exactly what they look like - photographs can be misleading - if you saw mine, you'd think I was an upcoming Tamil Superstar (then again, I am an upcoming Tamil Superstar) - and yet you know so much about them. Often, they lead two lives - the quietest in real life have the loudest blogs, the most dynamic never check their email, the friendliest are suspicious. Their profiles on Orkut, Facebook, their blogs, your conversations on Gtalk tell you a lot, but hide the crucial facts - do they exist? Are they actually axe-wielding murderers? Maybe they are people trying to get you to join a mass-suicide cult! Maybe they're Communists! Racists! Supporters of George Bush! Lawyers! Is she even a woman at all?

It is so easy to lead a parallel unrelated life on the internet, that it sometimes scares me.

And then there's the thrill of meeting someone you've never met before, but know fairly well - the sheer unpredictability of conversation, the innate tendency to crack bad jokes, your eyes' inclination to widening unnecessarily, and your sorry attempts to over-impress whoever the other person might be.

By the time I sat at Firangi Pani and browsed through the drinks menu, I felt a lot more at home. I remembered the fascinating DMP - the Drinks Menu Principle - that every time I go to any restaurant with any crowd, the Drinks Menu is always placed before me. I look the shady, alcoholic type, I guess. I thought I'd play the role by ordering some whiskey, but decided to go for the age-old hostel favourite - vodka and Sprite.

And then the nervous eye-shifting started again. Black sweater. Every person who walked in was scanned and audited - maybe she wasn't wearing the sweater, she was carrying it in her hand. Pretty soon, she walked in - complete with black sweater and all. She looked very different from the photographs, and looked too old to be 22. But people age fast, what with age being in the mind and all that. And, as discussed, photographs are misleading.

I put on my most social smile and waved. She gave me this weird look. Wave again. Weirder look again. She turned around and sat at another table. Then it dawned - this wasn't the Black Sweater I was looking for! Message to the actual Black Sweater: "I just waved at some random lady in a black sweater!"

Three sips into my vodka, and 2.4 overs into my cricket game on my cell phone, Black Sweater landed up to meet Maroon Sweater. Social smile. Handshake. "Where's the lady you waved at?"

The ice melted - in my glass - liquids flowed like the conversation that touched upon everything from the concept of justice, riots, drunken driving, and taxation law to Yuvraj Singh and Deepika (How?!! How?!! I have officially lost faith in every Bangalore chick - every one.). The more I think of these varied topics, the more I'm convinced that they are all linked - at the fundamental level, they are things that you'd talk to people you're meeting for the first time about!

At the end of it all, when I got into the auto back to Sadasivanagar and opened my wallet, I remembered, for no real reason a joke I had heard in the morning. My friend sounded horrible on the phone. When I asked him what was the issue, he said, "Not feeling good, dude. Liquidity issues."
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