Bangalore Belles Rock On!

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Aha! Got you there.

Now, for the mix: A bit of movie. Four belles. And a lot of Bangalore.
It wouldn’t work any other way.

There would have been more of us, but hey! you can’t have it all. Not always. Why, we even had to make do with Arjun Rampal in a 2D 70mm format. And then, we were crazy enough to miss him in the flesh too!!

Ok, we still don’t know how Rock On! starts, but by the time magik’s reunion got underway, we had our own little magic working outside the cinema.

Time, it seemed, had stood still all those years we’d been away, and yet, a city had metamorphosed.

Here we were, the four of us, springing up with funny incidents at college, not allowing any to be forgotten.

All characters – the poker-faced prankster, the ever-hungry foodie, the always agreeable rebel and the invincible bright-eye – well alive, it was a back-in-college-on-the-bunk escapade, as perfect as the richly iced chocolate cup-cakes we greedily devoured.

But this came at a price. After my usual grind on the road and, now, customary speed attacks between gaps in un-indicated lane changes at break-neck speeds with barely inches in between metal (sorry, my pet moan will not escape expression), you’d think a manned basement car park would have more order.
I was helplessly amused at what awaited me.

To monstrous 4x4s and elongating sedans, the manoeuvrability in our new-found car parks under self-contained malls, remains in inverse proportion.

So, while a hapless pubescent dealt with his embarrassment at having to do the forward and back routine about eight times, I sat back, turned on the music and fixed my hair. Madonna’s Ray of Light melted down and the X-trail grudgingly heaved into the miserly bay.

Calling from a restaurant close-by, the prankster was on to me. After my own struggle into a space meant for a kitten and an invigorating bout of giggles inside and outside the phone, we finally met!

Still giggling, and with KD lost in magik world, we sneaked our way into the packed, dark cinema hall and settled to enjoy an afternoon that had already started with a tickle.

Through all the dynamics on screen and our unanimous declaration of going back for it with the other halves (the only time they were missed- sorry guys), I noticed something fantastic.

Time indeed had retracted a while and the four of us there, were just that - four girls. We were not wives that day, not mothers and not women who had been regulated by life. For those few moments, we were who we were, those many years ago - young girls, full of beans. Our memories were bound by each other, the places we haunted, the tricks we got up to and the city we obsessed about.

This would not have happened anywhere else in the world. As I bid farewell to my friends that evening, everything came together - the mad crossing of the road, our unending indecision as to who waits and who goes, the spitting rain that cleared as soon as I found shelter and on my drive back home, an automan’s ‘hogo llllo!!, suitably accompanied by the gesture, loud, over no one in particular.

I am bound to this city. And the four of us, no matter where we go or live, will always be Bangalore girls. First and final.