It was 1985..or was it ’86? We were four to five young working professionals sharing a fantastic pad in Juhu, Mumbai. Each of us had moved into our second jobs, were flush with funds, were not spendthrifts, loved to cook our dinners at home, preferred to sit at home with friends and drink, instead of hanging around in either seedy or expensive pubs, and loved to leave the city on weekends. It was always the same - we would come back from work tired on a Friday night, sit around with a drink in hand, chatting, and suddenly one of us would have a bright idea. “Bore ho raha hai yaar, lets go somewhere.” So the next 30-minutes would be spent discussing options, and finally the guy with the loudest and firmest voice that night would get his way. Ganeshpuri, Vajreshwari, Lonavla-Khandala, Igatpuri, Mahabaleshwar-Panchgani, Nashik, Goa, Ratnagiri-Chiplun, Murud-Janjira, and a dozen other trips always happened that way. So it was that Friday night too. “Alibagh” proclaimed Ramesh. It ...