If there is one thing Sahil Zaroo has taught the nation, this is it. ‘Hanging out’ can be a lucrative profession. Welcome to the world of the groupie—or the super groupie. This super groupie prefers the company of filthy rich, powerful and famous people, he is always at the right place, at the right time. And, no, he is not a riot girl looking for fun and frolic, he is now always male, fawning and messianic, looking for a lucrative deal, as he officiates and ministers to his idol’s every fetish and greed.The super groupie is the new drug peddler, the narco-angel who gets your fix from the ‘dirty dealer’. The ‘celeb’ need no longer cruise into scary neighbourhoods and negotiate with shady pushers, nor do they need to have them in their gated, gilded homes. It is the super groupie who fixes the ‘hit’. He has the coded numbers on his cell phone. He makes a coded call to the dealer, arranges the deal, takes the money and procures the ‘stuff’ and the party begins. No sweat, no fear.• The proto-groupie is obsessive, attentive, persistent, as he stalks the ‘scene’. Like all groupies, he too craves the same thing—instant success, glamour, and access into the intoxicating world of endless hedonism. He will do anything to be with the top dogs, and the super groupie is soon highballing from groupie, to junkie, to stripper, to hooker.• The most apparent super groupie is the ‘coke’ groupie. He may be a junkie or a recreational user, like his top dog idol, the latter usually a Bollywood star, tycoon, gay designer or politician. The den is usually the drawing room or private lounge in the mansion, never in public places, as was probably the case at the Mahajans’7, Safdarjung Road. The parties are by invitation only, intensely private and exclusive, the door cracked open by discreet servants, only to let in the regulars.The coke groupie gets his high not only from the drug but also from his intimacy with the rich and powerful. There are more rewards—he bankrolls his own habit, makes a cut from every deal, maybe hits the ramp or silver screen, and has now acquired his own glam status. After all, the best dealers are at his beck and call, he has a bulletin of new stock arrivals, he can be relied upon to arrange a party in a jiffy. Too bad, Rahul Mahajan and Bibek Moitra picked Zaroo on a bad day.• Then there’s the wannabe super groupie. He is usually the son of a rich father, newly minted, and waiting to crash into the rolling scene. He does not do the drug, but carries it in his jeans, sucking up to the guys and chicks with the best, most expensive powder. Like his logo-lulled parents, he sources every fashionable, designer drug available in the market, and pulls out the MDMA and Columbian Coke, as if they were the latest from Louis Vuitton and Prada. As he cruises to the nightclub’s door in his shiny SUV or S-Type Mercedes, he gets his adrenalin rush from the feverish possibility of being beckoned by the bewitching circle of glam dolls and super models, playboys and swingers. But his resplendence and fame is as fleeting as the white powder on the mirror. Poof, one moment it’s there, it’s gone the next, with the last snort. So has his momentary, transient, celebrityhood.• The corporate groupie with his fat cat expense account, hedge funds and penthouse believes in working hard and partying hard, but those numbing 20-hour work schedules have not only left him chick-less but also with a ‘habit’. Nobody believes you can crack the Hong Kong, Mumbai and New York exchange daily on caffeine and nicotine alone. When the Dalal Street raider is ready to party, he just joins the glitter entourage of designers he has bankrolled, with its attendant models, beauty queens and pop stars, or hitches up with the celeb that’s swept into town.The party glides into the swishest nightclub or lounge bar in town, the corporate groupie barks for Dom, ice bowls of caviar are scooped up, and a luxe hush descends down. As the titter rises, the corporate groupie gives a knowing nod, and soon the troop to the loo begins. Lines are neatly cut near the mirror, clutch bags fly open and a silver nozzle clears it up. More lines are laid out, revellers come and go, safety and discretion is the byword, the attendant at the door has been handsomely paid off. The party over, the corporate groupie is back at work again.
