Lowering the Bar

So we headed out,mutually deciding as we always did to an evening of one drink,knowing all along that this was the standard phrase that got us out the door. It was on this excursion that I discovered a bar that baffled me we shall refer to it as X,not as a need for anonymity but merely because it could be a bar anywhere in the world and continue to befuddle experienced restaurateurs. Located in south Mumbai,this bar aspires to be of the sports bar vintage. And its attempts are earnest,if not entirely original. The furniture and fixtures are sufficient and low-fuss. Not much attention has been paid to table layout or design,and glass tables with corners sharp enough to puncture a beer belly are dangerously scattered in random fashion and pulled into strange configurations. Nineteen-inch mini TVs with tiny men kicking a ball around are dwarfed by giant cut-outs of cricketers pasted on the wall. This passes for décor.

When we enter,I am immediately assailed by a sense of deja vu,maybe I have been here before and it hasnt changed much since. And then again,I could be mistaking it for that bar in Bangalore when Anju George was attempting her long jumps at the Olympics. A great moment,a woman had a whole sports bar cheering her every leap,maybe thats why I cant remember where I have been to this bar before. But then there could be another reason,it being the easy familiarity of Bar X,concealed from the busy road by heavy velvet curtains that are also the backdrop to a large projection screen playing music videos. Right now,Freddie Mercury in leather mini skirt and moustache is vacuuming. I notice that he has great legs. I am possibly the only one making these idle observations. In busy Mumbai this song,the staple of many an office-goer is resonant. And everyone seems to be screaming I want to break free,a little more loudly. Song after song is played and the crowd sings along its group karaoke. My friend leans over; the live music is great here. Thats not live,I point to the screen and then I look around,its live,alright.

I think of the restaurant I just finished dining at with its damask linen,Schott Zwiesel glassware,million dollar view,discreet glances and beautifully orchestrated meal and wine experience. It ticked all the boxes in the rule book and was one of the best dining experiences I have ever had. And yet this travesty with probably not even a valid fire license and decidedly stale peanuts was packing them in?

Certainly,the drinks must be inexpensive,the cynic in me decides,but that is not the case the drinks are moderately priced and would not qualify as cheap by any account. Its too noisy to embark on an analysis of what is going right. And that one drink seems to be lasting too long as the ice melts quickly prompting the level to rise in between sips. There is no space for conversation and in my line of vision,is an awful dancer in stripes who distracts by insisting on imitating Michael Jacksons moves to Billie Jean. Its hilarious and I am suddenly laughing,I dont mean to be unkind but this is a place,where no one seems to be looking at anyone else. Its liberating. But the dancer spots me,only to put on a little more of a show. And I know that this is not a bar that will make it to any lists,but it will outlive its more glamorous counterparts and leave the professionals confused. When you travel,you chance on a Bar X only every once in a while. A food and beverage establishment that gives you a taste of its city,and it has nothing to do with the food,drink or ambience and everything to do with the people who frequent it. n

Advaita Kala is an author and has worked in restaurants and kitchens in India and abroad

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