Gucci Bangalore

CHAPTER 1

The Art of Moving Apartments

I moved to Bangalore with a school friend of mine over 2 years ago, and the number of memories I have made in just one year is mind-blowing.

 Before college, I had never stayed away from home for more than a week. So as you can expect, I was used to my mother handling everything for me. Not just me all of my friends. I didn’t have the slightest clue on how to do even the daily chores.

For example, we didn’t know that you had to add soap while doing laundry, we thought the soap was built-in with the machine. We did our laundry for almost 3 months without soap. We only realized this when the clothes started getting even worse after doing laundry.

That’s just the beginning.

 Before moving to Bangalore we had all these high expectations about what an amazing life it would be. Just freedom, fun, and nothing more. Little did we know that in order to survive there were other things too, like washing clothes, making food, getting up in the morning, cleaning our rooms and many more.

Waking up in the morning was a very hard task for me. How do you expect me to wake up without being shaken awake at least 20 times! Don’t expect my roommate to wake me cause for him to be awake, he has to be shaken 30 times.

 Bangalore was nothing like I expected. When you visit the state as a tourist, it’s all top class but when you have to survive there, not as much. The PG I and my friend got was Satan’s warehouse. I could go on and on about the PG, specifically the bathroom.

FAM! The bathroom was in a league of its own. It was like one of the rooms you see in horror movies, whereby opening the door you hear a loud screech and inside nothing but pitch black.

There was one light bulb that would stay on for 7 minutes and die. The period of time after the bulb dies is what I call the UPRISING. What is the uprising you ask? It’s where the light goes off and you feel these demonic spirits trying to crawl up your naked body.

So you had to go out turn the bulb on again and get done by the next 7 minutes. Another thing about the bathroom, it was so small that only you or the bucket could fit inside. So If I had to take a bath I had to know gymnastics.

Also to all the people asking why do you have a bucket, where is the shower?…….Just go drink your Starbucks coffee, this story is not for you.

 Another thing about the city is that there are a lot of dogs and a lot of dogs equals a lot of dog poops. Every morning before going to college, I have to parkour around the streets so I don’t step in any of the poops.

I’m being serious when I tell you the dogs are doing this on purpose, like every morning all the local dogs poop in exactly the same route I have to take to college. Me doing parkour in the morning trying to dodge these dog poops is like a morning show of Classical dance.

One time my neighbour actually complemented my dance moves, someone please tell her I’m just trying not to step on dog poops. Bangalore hates me.

 Everything seemed a little better when we made 2 new friends who were also being mistreated by Bangalore, lets call them Kuku and Buku. Needless to say, we all shared one common thing. It was our first time staying away from home, so no clue how to survive.

So me and my friend found another apartment to live in because staying in this PG anymore would just drive us insane. This is when the fun started, the new apartment was not that far, so we had to carry all our stuff on foot. So to help we called our new friends.

We sent them first with half of our bags then me and my roommate locked the PG room, got all our stuff, said our goodbyes to that hell hole, and went to the apartment.

Our room was on the 3rd floor and when we went inside but none of our stuff was there.

We saw Kuku and Buku downstairs they said everything had been moved in. We ran back down.

“ Where’s the stuff man!”

“ What do you mean where’s the stuff? It’s all there.”

“ What do you mean it’s all there? Nothings there!”

“What! It’s all there MAN. Get your eyes checked or something. We had to climb 2 flights of stairs with all that heavy stuff and now we’re getting yelled at, real classy dude.”

“ Wait, wait, WAIT 2 flights?”

“ Yah, why?”

“ Please tell me you guys didn’t put our stuff in some other apartment on the second floor.”

“ What? Why would we do that! We’re not dumb man, it’s on the third floor.”

“ Well, I don’t see it”.

My roommate stepped in and said, “ Just one moment please point to the 3rd floor bro”.

Kuku points on the 2nd floor.

“ That’s the 3 RD FLOOR YOU DUMB LASSI!”

“ Bro, you’re tripping man! Learn to count your floors.”

“ I’m tripping me? I’M tripping? Okay, please teach me how to count the floors.”

“ Sure! It’ll be my pleasure. By the way, you shouldn’t be in college cause you don’t even know your numbers. Now let me show you. The one we’re standing on, that’s the ground floor so that’s 1. Then 2, then comes 3, okay?”

“ Bro, bro, bro ground floor isn’t 1! GROUND FLOOR IS GROUND FLOOR, IT’S 0 NOT 1 , 1 Is 1!”

“Eeeeeehhh! So there’s a floor for 0? That makes no sense, you tripping man.”

“ So that proves it. Our stuff is in another apartment.”

 I just went, sat down, and thought to myself about the expectations I had before coming to Bangalore. They were all wrong. Bangalore was supposed to be GUCCI.

-to be continued.

-John. B. Jacob