Free Just the Way You Are by Sanjeev Ranjan

conceited smiles to them. They seemed to notice me too. My heart did a jig inside and I felt my balloon inflating confidently once again. It couldn’t be punctured anymore. But then there is always one or the other shock awaiting me after a period of relief and comfort. This time it was at the reception table as the receptionist handed me the bill.
    ‘What? 3000 bucks? What for?’
    ‘Sir, you can check our price list. It was for the haircut, facial, bleaching, and massage. We can offer you a 10 per cent discount. Corporate discount. Are you working or a college student?’
    ‘What do you think I’d be?’ I gave her a mocking interrogatory look.
    ‘When you came here earlier, you looked like a working professional but now, you look like a college student.’ I sensed some insult against me.
    ‘What do you mean? I am working. And this is my office card.’ I showed her the card. She seemed satisfied then. Rs 3000 was the only way out at that moment. I felt like digging the notes out and throwing them at her face. That would teach her and her staff some manners. I pulled out my wallet from my pocket and checked the notes in it. It contained only had Rs 200 and some change. She craned her neck doubtfully to look into my wallet. I turned around and flipped out my debit card. I handed it to her and waited at the counter. For a second I wanted to spit in her face. I felt extremely unnerved and disturbed. She, however, swiped my card mechanically and pulled out the receipt. I signed it and stormed out. It was only the beginning, I realized. There was a pit of guilt inside my stomach. I had literally splurged and emptied my pockets! What had I got myself into?

6
    NOW I HAD TO JUMP into the scene and the scene was to be in one of those pubs that Gaurav had asked me to go to. In the circuit of my friends or my office no one knew much about pubs in Delhi. At least I had not heard any of them discussing what they did over the weekends on Monday mornings. I assumed most of them were either boring and had nothing else to do in life other than sleep or that they were just as unlucky as I me. There was, however, a guy named Mayank who was friendly with me and he used the Delhi lingo of ‘Wassup dude!’ quite often. I thought of asking him if he knew of such places. I asked him at lunch if he would like to accompany me to the pub. He looked at me wide-eyed and asked, ‘Have you ever been to a pub or, for that matter, a discotheque?’ I gulped uneasily and said, ‘No. Never, actually.’ He smiled serenely and patted my back as if he had suddenly become my guru. ‘Doncha worry, dude. Hum hain na!’
    That night itself we landed up at the pub Q-Bar. All I could see was a long queue serpentining its way to the road. I asked Mayank if we had to join the same queue to which he just nodded and gestured me to follow. I saw girls in the skimpiest of shorts and skirts clinging to big, muscled guys like snakes coiled around a pole. The ratio was funny. The bigger the guy, the smaller the girl. Two bouncers stood like sentinels at the doorway, busy checking the people letting them enter. A nerdy-looking guy stood there too, checking the entries and noting down the names and identities on a clipboard.
    As we reached closer, I looked up at the board hung above the doors.
    COUPLE ENTRY—FREE
    SINGLE—Rs1000/- GIRLS—FREE
    I was taken aback. It was absurd. Couple entry was free and a single was charged 1000 bucks! Wasn’t that preposterous, I asked Mayank.
    ‘Dude, doncha know, girls and couples are supposed to be the centre of attraction of any pub you go to. Otherwise any lallu-panju would be allowed in, you see. And who would come to check them out?’
    ‘Yeah, right.’ I gave a sardonic smile. And these people talk about equality in this country. I was thinking about this when the bouncer suddenly held my wrist and punched a stamp just below my palm.
    ‘What is this?’ I asked Mayank.
    ‘A confirmation that you have