Khaabo Peebo Sobo

It's now been over a year for me in Mumbai. As I sit in a cafe on lazy Sunday morning, I realise that although I have written more than once of my experiences in and impressions of the city, my tryst with an unmissable element of the city has escaped my writings thus far. One which resides far from the maddening crowd of the city - in a self-proclaimed uber-cool geography surprisingly called 'town'. Daddy's boy by day. Party hopper by night. The Sobo.

Say 'hello!' to uncle Klein

What follows is a quick guide to identifying one and/or becoming a part of the Sobo brigade. 

The way you dress is crucial. Sobo-hood is not just about wearing the hep brands, it is about carrying them as if it were no big deal. This is where the Sobo separates himself from the Def-Cols and GKs of apna Dilli. Now there wearing a brand means you've got to flaunt it - be it peering from under your pants or emblazoned across your thigh. Anyway, I'll avoid the dilli-gression and flip back to our Sobo. So, yes, keep the Teddy Smiths, the DKNYs a little subtle.

Moving on to where do you find them. Apart from the club and bar night scene, which we will come to later, the Sobo is mostly found venturing on the cobbled streets of 'Cool'-aba, having sunday breakfast at LPQ, or sipping away at Mondegar's and the like. A lot of people end up doing that. So, how do we spot our Sobo? Look for the ones wearing crocs - in all sorts of eye-stinging colours which do not go, at all, with the white or beige three-fourths they are wearing. The brands remain. But why are they dressed like this in an apparently 'chic' place? Because a trip to these eateries might be a much-looked forward outing for a burbs' guy but is a five-minute stroll for a Sobo, and he will amply make you aware of that.  

Another place where the Sobo is found is in the esteemed clubs - Gymkhana, Wellingdon - chatting away with friends, or relishing a game of golf in the greens. Why don't we delve in detail about these habits? That's because if you are spotting them there, you are probably one of them. More recently, the Sobo kids seem to have found their own 'Shivaji Park' in an arcade called Smaaash! Only money spent facing ten balls here could possibly feed all of Somalia. 

Moving on. Unlike the noveau-rich in Delhi, the Sobo does not feel the need to re-iterate who his Dad is to everybody at every restaurant or bar. He lets the enormous tab he runs and papaji's credit card do the talking. After the casual farewell handshakes, non-chalant hugs and the 'take it easy, he calls his driver and his porsche to come park right outside the doorway, as if the paparazzi are going to hound him if he shows his face too long in public.

Well, Sobo is not just a name. It is a way of life. As has been stated already, it is a lot more muted than being from South Delhi. A lot less arty than being a SoHo. But that's how they roll.

With this, I see the waiter approaching me. "How would you like your eggs, Sir?, he asks. 

"Townside up", I quip.