The Disco King

Udaipur

 

Udaipur is proving kind to us. We settle into our guest house as recommended by Andrew and quickly fell in with two English blokes, and our little group of three grew to five. Simon and Michael became our friends, and we enjoyed many meals together, as well as relaxing at the Guesthouse. Both are chefs at a highly prestigious English country club and are in India on vacation. Both are top fellows.

 

Mike, Swags, Yobin, Crackson, Si

Our first meal, at a nice restaurant right beside the lake, featured several Kingfisher Strongs and good conversation. Two of the five of us changed our order after being convinced by other members of the party.

 

There’s not much of a night life in Udaipur; nor in Rajasthan for that matter, and what you find is that it’s hard to find large numbers of people sharing a drink. Most drinking tends to be done in the sanctimony of guesthouses, or over a meal. Given the fact that Rajasthan is a place of stone cities, temples, forts, palaces and religion, it’s no surprise there is a lack of drinking culture.

 

But when you do find it, boy is it going off!

 

“Come, come” yells the whispily bearded young man from up on his balcony, frantically waving his hands. Okay, let’s give it a shot. Turns out this chap has converted his living room into a disco. It’s got Indian mats and cushions on the floor, a Portuguese style balcony, a laptop hooked up to distorted speakers and English tunes, and flashy disco lights.

 

We rock up, and the place is dead empty. Stone cold, nothing. But that doesn’t stop us. As is my habit, I took over the music list, and soon I had my favourite music from England and beyond, with the five of us seated on the floor drinking beers, talking and laughing. It felt good to hear music again. Since parting with my iPod, I’ve been missing music ever since.

 

The Disco King was ever so friendly – he asked me to make a playlist for him, supplied us with beers and rum, and made pleasant conversation. His crazy friend came in, and ranted for ten minutes in roughshot Hindu/English about how he hated womankind, accused us of a certain kind of buggery and left not before shaking each of our hands three times. He then continued his wobbly rant all the way down the deathly quiet streets.  

 

Almost a ghost town at night

 

At one point, the Disco King leaned in close.

 

“You want Bhang,” he said. Oh right, Bhang.

 

“Oh sure! We'll take three of those!” He told us to smoke is illegal, but to mix in with lassi (“Bhang lassi”) or cookies is no problem at all (remember, this blog is half fictional, half truth)

 

We walked home a little later, the streets empty and deserted as is customary past 11pm, mindful of the rabid dogs and fearsome growls all the way home.

 

I tell you; those dogs are scary. They’ll mess with your head, and leave you shaking with fear when you finally retreat to your bed.

A nice photo of Yobin. Thankfully, the glasses now belong to a three year old kid from Jodhpur.

Bollywood star in the making?