Urban Dictionary defines WTF as “The universal interrogative particle”.
The abbreviation of, most commonly, ‘what the fuck’, though sometimes also ‘who/why/when/where the fuck’. When used with an exclamation point instead of a question mark, it becomes an exclamation of amazement, confusion, disbelief, etc. Both forms are often accentuated with ‘mate’ or preceded by ‘dude’.
In a city where 200 sq. ft. and a liquor license (or an ‘understanding’ with the local police) is all you need for a bar to be crowded enough to make you want to reconsider your alcohol dependence, WTF in Aram Nagar was surprisingly empty on a Sunday night.
“Aah, finally an undiscovered watering hole to quench my aching thirst for single malt,” I would have thought if I were Lady Liquorich. But since I wasn’t born with a fucking golden spoon up my ass, I thought “Aaj shanti se BP peene milegi bhenchod.”
I sat down on a dodgy bench with an uncomfortably low table and ordered drinks and food from a ‘Happiness Assistant’ – What? Fuck it, I’ll let this one slide without making the obvious sexual joke. I was served by a dude wearing a t-shirt that said Chief Cocktail Officer – of which there seemed to be plenty.
Now, if there ever was a place that was appropriately named, this is it. The one cocktail I tried (an extremely watered down Mojito) persuaded me to stick to neat alcohol. The ‘Mean-Ass Chilli Chicken’ was as mean-ass as the Western Express Highway is express and the Crunchy Paneer Burger was a plate of four sliders that consisted of a bun, an uncooked, non-marinated slab of paneer and wilting lettuce – WTF?
The ambiance is nothing to write home about either – there are generic tables and chairs, weird hanging lamps one of which has a random Arsenal logo on it (way to tell your customers about your ambition, well done), and a fucking cardboard menu card that is as unwieldy as your landlord if you delay rent by a day.
There was no DJ in the bar, I am certain of it. Why else would we just be listening to discographies of various 90s artists? I heard multiple songs from The Black Eyed Peas, Daft Punk and Akon – artists who are as relevant as the laughter tracks in 90s sitcoms (F.R.I.E.N.D.S. anyone?)
I decided to make my way out as the ‘Delhi Da Munda’ next to my table had gone on to Stage 4 Drunkenness – weird fake American accent. Before I could move out, however, he had already asked the waiter to dance for him. Delhi guys are weird AF man.
My experience at WTF was comparable to Arvind Kejriwal’s political career – initially exciting but once you realize what you’ve gotten yourself into, you’re 5 drinks down and he’s already the CM so WTF are you going to do?
Where? 7 Bungalows, Versova, Mumbai
