It is pathetic on my part for having procrastinated this post for so mercilessly long. And it is not because my lack of will, but the unavailability of time, which has been consumed off late by the extended hours on deviantart, academics, photography (check out my deviantart profile for testimony, or otherwise too. I could do with some pageviews. XD. siddhartha19.deviantart.com).
I also apologise to my lovely sister for delaying this post for so long, as she had been waiting for it avidly and is a regular reader of the blog *Bows*.
Coming back to Vellore from Pune was pathetic in itself. Pune was amazing, as always. And the new house, the new places, Mahabaleshwar, Mapro gardens and everything to do with it were equally enigmatic. But what stole my breath away was HRC. For the non believers, HRC is Hard Rock Cafe.
I had been waiting to go to a HRC for a long time, and to think of it that my first was also to one of the best in India, the Pune HRC, was only an added garnishing to the fruit of patience. So I stand outside the neon board with the lights encircling an illuminated capital "HRC". My pulse is already racing the seconds hand of the watch as the line slowly progresses into the heaven for rock fanatics. I had to produce my cell phone and wave it infront of the security camera before being stamped on my forehand with the HRC stamp. Awesomeness, was yet to begin. Walking in, I see a drum kit attatched to the wall and could read in the faint light a name on the bronze tag plate. It read "Joey Kramer, Aerosmith". I reached the epitome of exitement. Right next to the drum kit there's a guitar, white with golden pickups, "Joe Perry, Aerosmith". *swoons*
I saw a gallery of memorabilia before reaching the seating area, which in itself was spectacular. We sat on the elevated area, surrounding the bar counter and overlooking everything. The leather sofa, right under Jimmi Hendrix's picture frame, overlooking Bob Dylan's coat and a fleet of Bacardi white rum bottles sparkling on the bar counter. The DJ standing right next to the counter was what gave HRC the HR. Hard effing rock. The preamble so immaculate in itself that anything would seem to be amazing thereafter. The menu was, independantly, precise too. I ordered a Mojito, the best drink available in HRC, and sat back to absorb the essence of the place. The first song I recognised was "Save tonight", and having performed it in the college fest, I could sing along and srtum along (given a guitar), soon followed by "Zombie", "Snow" and "Lithium" (Nirvana). Now fully at home with the music and the place, I tranceded my internal barrier of restriction and got up to stand by the balcony. It was a wise choice, for the next song was Metallica. Sad but true. And that's when I started loving the place more than ever. I sung along at the top of my voice, straining my vocal chords and draining my lungs out. The Mojito helped replenish the energy along with some spicy tamarind chicken wings. Then it was a flurry of classics, that I just could not afford not headbanging and singing along to. "Run to the hills", "Brick in the wall", "Enter Sandman" and "My Sacrifice" later, I was back after having joined the majority of the people who participated in creating a vibe trademark of the Hard Rock Cafe's and that exactly sets it apart from just another Rock Cafe.
(The main bar counter from where I was sitting)
The black Jackson guitar right next to the bar counter, "Scott Ian, Anthrax" caught my eye amidst the horde of Saxophones suspended overhead. One of the four God's of thrash metal. The "Stray Cats" cello was a contrasting orange amidst the dark ambience. Also among the best were "Joe Walsh"s flying V guitar, and "Timothy Schmidst, Eagles" jacket. Having heard a lot about the famous YMCA dance, at 10:30, the DJ hit the YMCA track. All the bartenders and waiters (minus the one on the roller blades, who already showed enough stunts and moves) hopped atop the counters and tables along with willing people there, and did the YMCA dance to mark the tradition of the place. It was a sight worth seeing and it looked amazing first hand, the picture can hardly do any justice to the ritual.
(The YMCA dance)
The lights turn on at 11, marking the closure of the place within the next half hour, and the DJ spun the last track for the day, which made the hair on the back of my neck stand. Unforgiven. Metallica. So I got right up to the balcony and put up the \m/ and sung along for the next 5 mins, swaying in nirvana to the music.
The Margarita and Shrimp curry with rice was as perfect the end could be, only taken a notch ahead by the HRC souveneir shop right outside the dining. I could not miss out the traditional faded out maroon HRC Pune T shirt, and the black cap spelt HRC. The way back was a cyclic recollection of the memories I acquired therein, and my acceptance into the brethren of HRC fanatics.
I enjoyed writing this post as it helped me recall the day to an intricate level, and I feel stupid not having written the post earlier itself.
Anyways, I hope you liked the place, through my memories of it. I assure you, it is a million times better actually. There is great information loss in a recollection, always. The place is heaven.
Save the planet.
HRC Pune.
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