Why has clubbing in India become so awful?

It has now been four months since I last went clubbing and found myself sulking at a table in a popular Bandra establishment. After about 15 minutes on the dance floor without alcohol, I realised I could no longer pretend to enjoy the techno music blasting through the speakers. My friends were nowhere to be found. The strangers around me seemed uninterested in striking up a conversation with anyone outside their clique. In the car with my friends on the way back, I bitterly remarked, “The next time I say I want to go clubbing, please just shake me hard and remind me of this night.”

The issue was not just that one night. It was a series of nights spent in anticipation of going out, only to return home underwhelmed. As with all things, Bollywood was partly to blame for this disappointment. Growing up, I had envisioned clubbing in India to look like it was portrayed on screen: Deepika Padukone blissfully spinning under neon lights as ‘Uff Teri Adaa’ (Karthik Calling Karthik) plays, Katrina Kaif spraying and chugging champagne in ‘Choomantar’ (Mere Brother Ki Dulhan) or Kangana Ranaut climbing atop a bar counter and ripping her sweater off in ‘Hungama Ho Gaya’ (Queen). Unfortunately, other than the neon lights, these depictions of partying now seem to be either false or a relic of the past.

Based in Delhi, 25-year-old Vyoma Trivedi, an assistant marketing manager, admits that clubbing in the capital city can be a hit or miss. “There are nights when I have returned home before 11pm,” she laments. “If you go to a place where the music is mainly just techno or reel-famous songs, it causes people to just stand in a corner with their drinks.” 22-year-old Mridul Munjal, who lives in Gurugram and works in marketing and communications, agrees. “It feels like clubs in Delhi are trying to cater to everyone and in doing that, are ultimately catering to no one properly.”

In the last five years or so, electronic music, including techno, house and trance, has risen in popularity, going mainstream across metropolitan cities in India. In Mumbai, spaces like Bonobo, antiSOCIAL and Khar Social spotlight a genre of music that was once reserved for underground raves and parties. Unfortunately, this has also led to a lack of diversity in clubs’ sonic landscapes. With most venues sticking to a similar sound, partygoers are left with music they may not necessarily enjoy. “Take Bollywood, for example. If a film is commercially successful, you’ll only see that kind of film released over and over again,” explains rock musician Bann Chakraborty. “Similarly, if one DJ has done well with techno, every venue will play techno. Nobody wants to take a risk by giving a chance to a different-sounding performer or even genre.” In contrast, the 47-year-old recalls Zenzi, a lounge bar once described as ‘Bandra’s living room’, that closed its doors in 2011. “It was like our second home. We would finish work and just run there,” he enthuses, recalling how he was offered his first job in Mumbai by a stranger he spent a few hours chatting with at the bar. “For 3-4 nights a week, they’d have a live band or DJ. There were open mic nights, spoken word sessions and unplugged sessions. Lots of different activities to keep people socially engaged.”