Ashish Jagtiani is the name he was born with, though that is a bit of an urban legend. He goes by the name of Jaggu, a very popular name across the airwaves. Dry, dark and lucid would describe him aptly, where one can only hope that one is not on the receiving end of that unholy trio.
Let me admit that I am not the coolest of people. Not the type who can be the centre of attention at a lounge or nightclub. It might have happened a couple of times, but those memories are hazy and are best forgotten.
So, my usual modus operandi when I walk into a nightclub is to find a comfortable corner, park myself, nurse a glass, and observe the flora and fauna around me. By that, I don’t mean the ladies in the leopard print dresses, of which there are usually a few.
I quite enjoy the dynamics of the people that enter as groups. Within the group, there are the standout hotties, the men in the group gravitate towards them. A couple of average looking girls, just to even out the numbers, who can usually be given full marks for effort. Sometimes, there will be the odd person or two who doesn’t quite fit in to the group, probably a friend of a friend, you see them at the fringe, laughing a little too loudly at inside jokes they don’t fully understand.
The lads of the group are their own samples. The studmuffins will be there, you can sense them from the way they look, handsome chaps with a well-groomed and confident persona. The girls tend to laugh at their jokes the most. Quite a few are comfortable in their skin, but there’s always a couple that are faking it, so they walk around with a bit of an edge. Whether that comes from them not being fully confident about their studmuffiness or whether they’re wearing their pants too tight, I can’t tell.
There’s also the other lads. The happy go lucky variety, easy to hang with and have no expectation of action. They’re happy to just be with the crowd and in the moment. These are the fun guys, although usually a little weightier than they should be.
Then there are the ones who are clearly out of their comfort zone. They are along with the group simply because of the rule of majority, everybody else wanted to hit the clubs, so they came along. This type of person figures out a way to pass time by going around the nightclub in concentric circles, without trying to look like a stalker and also by taking inordinately long bathroom breaks.
Aside from the big groups. There’s also the tightly knit ones. That group of three or four tottering dollies, with the height of their heels equal to the length of their miniskirts, usually about six Backbite Ashish Jagtiani is the name he was born with, though that is a bit of an urban legend. He goes by the name of Jaggu, a very popular name across the airwaves. Dry, dark and lucid would describe him aptly, where one can only hope that one is not on the receiving end of that unholy trio. inches both ways. Ladies night or not, they never, ever need to buy their own glass of bubbly. There’s always a line of willing gents. They chatter, giggle, flirt and sway in unison. This can either be annoying or attractive, depending on what works for you or how lucky you think you’re going to get. As an aside, I have to say, their hair colour has always been a source of wonder to me.
Then there’s the random boys. Either the ones who have managed to get in without dates, or extras from a group who have widened their horizons. Always a sight to behold, short of doing a human totem pole act, their boisterousness is in full display. For a casual observer, this can be fun. Not so much for the ladies they are trying to attract.
A little more diabolical are the solo entries. They are a rare breed, often having to do with the large gentlemen who mind the door, who make it quite clear that the solo gents are not welcome. The ones that manage to get in are their own samples. Either dynamically confident of holding their own in a place that specifically caters to couples and groups, these are the ones who enter single with every intention of leaving double, and sometimes manage to do that. Diametrically opposite to that are the ones whose singular success is getting in, now that they’ve managed that, they have no idea what to do. Their nervous energy is off the charts and usually a good source of entertainment.
And of course, there are the couples. The cutest are the ones who are in a blossoming relationship. So in love, so in sync, so lost in each other’s eyes. You enjoy the love that is in the air, up until the point you have to fight the urge to tell them to go get a room, guys.
The far more interesting ones are the mismatched couples. A sight to behold, your mind is quickly contemplating what one of the pair has that the other is attracted to, since it clearly can’t be looks. Is it about the assets, financial or otherwise? Is the horsey looking one also a gymnast perhaps? Is it a quid pro quo for quite a few quid? It boggles the mind, I tell you. I cannot decide whether I want to know or if it is best left to the imagination.
And the next time you’re in a club, look out for the guy holding up a pillar looking around with a slightly quizzical look on his face. You can either ignore him or offer to buy him a drink, the choice is yours.