Those Were The Best Days of My Life: A Tribute to Apache Chandani Chowk

6 years and some days ago:

A pack of 12 guys heads out of the college hostel. Each one is bursting with enthusiasm and energy. The semester exam has just ended. There are some in the pack who are still worried that they should have attempted a bit more in that paper, but they know that now is not the time.

They have been waiting for a long time for this and nothing is going to make them stop not even money. For most of the guys it is the first time they are going to indulge in something so jazzy and they are dressed in their best casuals. Unknowingly there is a spring in their step as they make their way to the hostel parking lot.

Some 30 minutes later, they gather outside the place. They walk up the ramp to the door and a hefty fellow sitting nearby gets up and blocks their way. The pack stops abruptly, there is murmur at the tail. The hefty fellow sizes them up and then makes up his mind and pushes the door open. The pack rushes in.

“Those were the best days of my life…..” is making waves inside and the motley gathering who is already inside is lapping it up. The song ends and suddenly one in the pack cries, “Hey that’s Backstreet Boys!!!”. Heads turn and people close by snigger. “Shut up, its Bryan Adams you fool.” shouts the self proclaimed leader of the pack. The guy looks down and accepts his mistake. They join 3 tables and sit down.

The next 20 mins are spent looking at the menu and deciding. Meanwhile the tempo rises to Metallica with “Turn the Page”. They order with restraint each one cautious that they also have to arrange for dinner after this. The leader of the pack is the only one comfortable in the setting. After all he has been there before and that was his claim to be the leader for the nite. The others look in awe as he sings and shouts the songs which play earning the occasional nod of the DJ.

He surpasses all expectations when he without any notice walks up to the DJ and gives his request to be played. He tries to straighten the collar of his polo neck tee when the speakers blast, “She Fucking Hates Me!!!”, his favorite number. The others try to imitate him as he bangs his head, does gestures with his hand and taps his feet to the tune of the song.

An hour into this and everybody is feeling good. Most of the pack does not know the songs been played but its just a matter of time they know. A few resolve to download the lyrics of the songs they have just heard and memorize them before they come here next. A little knowledge hurts nobody right?

A couple of chicks enter the premises escorted by heavy set boys. The pack turns its attention to the chicks only to be shouted upon by the leader. “Don’t stare guys, they know me around here!!!” The pack reluctantly obliges and each one then on steals glances when the leader is not checking.

The clock reads 10:30pm and the DJ puts on System of a Down, the pack goes beserk. Music stops, lights dim and the hefty fellow who had blocked their entrance earlier comes from nowhere and shouts for order to be restored. The leader has a word with the fellow and all is well, except that the chicks now have changed their table so that the pack can’t see them.

It becomes a regular hunting ground for the pack. After each semester they visit the place and each time, they feel like they are one with the place. Very soon they are even able to gauge the mood of the DJ. Some of the pack wins bets laid on deciding which song the DJ will play next. They plan their request s so the DJ has no choice but to play those songs. They invent their own chants for specific songs where the other crowd also joins in with glee. They wait till the DJ plays the last song and leave only when the hefty fellow begs them to vacant the place.

Some days ago:

Its been close to 6 years now, the pack has been disbanded, each going his own way and all doing well. On one Friday evening, a guy walks up the same ramp. The fellow at the door gets up and looks at him. “He is no more hefty”, the guy thinks. The fellow looks at him a bit longer than usual and a faint smile of recognition registers on his face. He does not say anything and pushes the door open. The setting inside is still the same. The same sofa covers, the same tables, the same design on the wall. He looks up at the console of the DJ but sees a new face.

He takes the same table which he last occupied some 6 years ago and waits for the menu card. As he glances through it he sees that everything is the same except for the right most column of the price. He smiles to himself and thinks, “Money is not a problem anymore.” He gets ready to order when the speakers blast “Those were the best days of my life….”

“That is definitely not Backstreet Boys”, he laughs and sings along.

P.S: Hoping that atleast some of the pack return soon and we have a great time at Apache again. Cheers!!!!