Where ‘shady bar’ undertones can lift your spirits
Spirit can mean two things. One is an invisible entity that may look a bit funny and give you chills, and the other one can make you look funny if consumed too much and, also, give you chills. We are not drunk enough to talk about the former yet, so we might as well discuss the latter – a surprisingly pseudo shady bar called ‘Spirit’ stuck under the shadow of Mumbai’s 11km metro line. This place is what we call a “Chotta Packet, Bada Dhamaka.” Read on…
On a breezy Thursday evening, after having a fuck long day, all you need is a hug, 17 shots of vodka and someone to punch. Considering we ain’t physically fit or capable of any of the above, we settled for basic rum and cocktail. After failing miserably at visiting this new unopened Juhu place ‘A Bar called Life’ (lolmax, story of our lives) because we fucktards didn’t think it was necessary to Google the place beforehand, we headed to Andheri. After being defeated by a fancy bar, I think it was pure revenge that drove us to a shady bar. Little did we know that we were in for a startling surprise.
Don’t let its purple LED name plate confuse you; it’s not a bar that stinks of danger. You enter Spirit to see that the ground floor is cramped as hell. We were unanimously asked to go upstairs and we happily agreed.
The first floor ain’t any better in terms of space. You can hear the person on the other table breathing and that kind of intimacy is not exactly what we look for in a bar. When it comes to seating ourselves in nothing spaces, we have learned quite a bit of Yoga over the course of our Leaky adventures. Now we can unhappily and crankily fold ourselves into 6 for such small spaces. Comes quite handy in our teeny tiny apartments too!
The waiters reminded me of the movie Ratatouille. One big main server, a couple of skinny mini servers; all of them neatly wrapped in crisp black and white clothes. The big waiter totally forgot about our second batch of starters although he kept his head cool and pretended that he didn’t. Good job!
The brick wall looks kinda cool, but I am pretty sure it is just a ploy to hide the leakage (not our kind) from the neighboring room. Andheri, bruh. We know the drill. Some totally unrelated posters and stickers with basic lighting that won’t let me see others completed the ambiance, and we were thrilled because no one gets to see how quickly we finish our drinks.
Several rounds of Old Monk (260 for a quarter) and Captain Morgan at unbelievably cheap rates happened. Their Mojito turned out to be more of a Nimbu Soda and fortunately, after three rounds of Monk Love, we barely cared. Their Paneer and Chicken Crispies tasted fuck awesome, and our buds are still tingling from the aftertaste. Fresh meat, correct balance of flavors equals to WIN. The Malai Tikka however turned out to be a dessert. Theek hai yaar, maaf kiya. When you work in a bar, you can only control your urge to drink so much. Chef must have had a long day!
Spirit really lifted our spirits that night. But here comes the tragedy… After drowning our miseries, nature just had to call. The washroom situated in the very other corner of the room is literally 4*4*7. I totally forgot about the non-functional flush, because I was busy figuring out how to pee in this fucking tiny area. I mean, what are we gonna do with all these long arms and legs? Leave them outside?
Where? Opposite Trade Star, Andheri Kurla Road, JB Nagar, Andheri East
