The Disco King 2.0: Kevin the businessman

Without doubt, the best photo of the trip thus far...

Udaipur

There is one side to the Disco King. The first is that of the fulfiller of dreams, the provider of experiences, the all-knowing, all-seeing wise man of Udaipur. The second is that of astute business man, and in his tale, is perhaps a tale of all of India. Allow me if you will, to tell a little fable of our friend named Kevin.

When Kevin invites people up to his ‘club’ there are no people. Udaipur is not really a party town, although the numbers of westerners turning up is growing. Kevin’s club is formally his lounge, which is part of his three story home, which has in turn been in the family for a very long time. It happens to be in the centre of town. Inside there are a few mats and things on the floor, a disco ball of the type you buy from the two-dollar shop, dim lights with a simple line of read beads lining one of the ceiling pillars, a makeshift fridge, and a really old laptop connected to some speakers that heavily distort if you play the music too loud. The music is rubbish and scattered, but you can find some good old songs. Kevin himself offers beers, flips the lids, has you try some rum, provides food, and also finds time for general chatter.

Now, I’m impressed with Kevin and his operation. There is a nice ambience to the room, and you can relax whilst getting pretty much anything you want, for dirt cheap. Over to the side is a small balcony with two character-laced chairs looking out over the street below. The street below is gentle up-sloping, is narrow, and winds through the narrow, now closed shops below.

I say, “Kevin, there is a lot you can do with this place.”

“Oh yes,” he says, looking on attentively.

“Put a sign out over this railing so people know you are here. Write something on it like ‘cold beer’ or ‘Udaipur’s only nightclub or ‘special lassi’s or something like that.’ Kevin usually just calls for people to come up. Next, arrange the chairs, and mats and things so you can maximise the number of people on the floor, without destroying the ambience of that place. Put a candle here and a candle there. Modernise the music.

In short, I was living out a fantasy by creating my own nightclub, and taking the Kevin’s little place and refashioning it in my image. Now, maybe he’ll do something, and maybe he won’t, but what I do know is that, in time, he’ll upgrade his laptop, get a playlist of the best and latest music, have a place for the fridge rather than just ‘off to the side’, but some non-distorting speakers and put them up in each of the four corners, add more spaces for people, modernise the menu, and add some signs on the railings outside, and hire a few more staff.

The major problem with the sole trader business in India is that there is just far too many people selling identical things (notwithstanding, my tourist zones). I don’t know how many goat leather bag stores I’ve seen, or silk stores, or beer stores, or practically anything else you can think of. But it’s all the same. A lot of the time it is because there is no alternative; and one can probably make a decent enough living out of doing it. A man’s lot is to grow, chose a trade, and ply away at that for the rest of his life.

With Kevin, he offer’s something a little different, something more intangible, and something ideally suited to the tourist in Udaipur. He’s got a long way to go, but the tourists will come, he’ll invest some capital buying some equipment, fixing the place up, hiring a few more staff, advertising, and before you know it, he’ll be the one in Lonely Planet.

As Kevin grows so too does India. Until then, he’ll be calling the streets, looking for lonely wanderers like us, who just aren’t ready to go to bed at 9pm.