RIP Zenzi, Bandra's living room, not lounge bar
The people who came to Zenzi to sit outside, didn’t move inside. They moved out, after the redesign and relaunch.Taken literally, Zenzi doesn’t mean anything. But for six years, the orange-walled bar, restaurant and Bandra-living-room-substitute ended up meaning different things to different people.
And now, it’s gone. Zenzi closed its doors for the last time last night on October 9.
When it first opened the gates on July 29, 2004, the buzz was immense. Who were these people from the Netherlands and Israel and why did they want to open a restobar in Mumbai?
This was a time when expats weren’t as visible on Bandra’s map. Perhaps to find answers, the curious people from this side of Mahim went.
And then kept going back. But the first year wasn’t easy.
On its fourth anniversary, having established the Zenzi vibe that became its defining characteristic, Matan Schabracq, a shareholder and responsible then for Zenzi's day-to-day operations, said that they had no idea what people really wanted and so they kept trying and growing organically.
A new multi-cultured lifestyle
Kris Correya, who came onboard before Zenzi opened, was the official music programmer cum in-house DJ and the unofficial talent scout for Zenzi till 2010.
“Matan and Anil Kably -- the Indian partner -- were both very clear that this was not going to be called a bar or a lounge, it was going to be a lifestyle," remembers Correya.
It was going to be a place where artists would thrive. But it took them a year to find and hone the hipsters that were Zenzi’s calling card.
Electronic music dominated the programming in those initial years -- mostly retro and tech house, later came drum and bass and other indie music genres.
“There was no indie scene then because there was no platform. Zenzi became that,” Correya summarizes.
Zenzi, the city's landmark

Some say the two fed off each other. And they wouldn’t be entirely wrong.
For almost four years, it didn’t seem like anything could shake Zenzi.
Its Thursday Open Mind Nights -- which birthed many an indie darling -- thrived. Wednesdays were for women. Salsa evenings, photography exhibitions, live graffiti and stand-up comedy all shone here.
Actor and musician Monica Dogra first met Pentagram guitarist and DJ Randolph Correia at Zenzi. The two decided to make music and in 2006, performed at the bar calling their gig Shaa’ir + Func.
That name stuck. Dogra, performs with the stage name Shaa’ir now and hosted Zenzi’s final Open Mind Night on October 6.
“That place was a match to my fire -- I’m not sure there’s going to be another Zenzi,” she says.
Shorts and flip-flops are hip
There’s been talk of a replacement, of course. For a while Bonobo bar was called the new Zenzi. Then it was Elbo Room, Escobar and recently WTF. But the casually dressed people who left Waterfield Road are still wandering.
“Zenzi attracted the artists and the people who knew them -- celebrities were never given preference or discounts,” says Correya.
Shorts and flip-flops were allowed too, encouraged almost. It didn’t matter how shiny or scruffy you looked, your drinks would arrive slowly. But somehow that never mattered.
But then in 2008 something happened.
Rules ruined the fun
Around November that year, for the first time, Zenzi went underground. The owners maintained they were renovating but everyone knew problems with the law and unhappy neighbors were the reason.
By December, the valets were busy again, after that it became imperative to call the bar to check if it was open. Sporadic closures -- two weeks at a stretch -- came much too often.
For almost four years, Zenzi didn’t change a thing -- not its couches, not its paint.
Schabracq had said why change it when there was nothing wrong.
But in September 2010, they were forced to.
A municipal corporation order to demolish the outside space could not be taken lightly. Everyone felt the bar had lived its life. But the owners persisted. Though in retrospect, many feel they shouldn’t have.
And there’s a solid explanation. After their well-intended rejig, they reopened in December 2010. But somewhere in the fight they’d lost their soul.
Schabracq had moved on too.
Zenzi’s al fresco section, with its much-loved bar was gone. This was the area that hosted live music and this is where we had our conversations without fear of damaging our tonsils. All of that stopped too.
Post-Zenzi, never the same

“I used to live literally 182 steps away," says Saxena. "But when the outside area shut down, I didn’t see the point. That was the section with the art, the photographs, the music.”
After that, Zenzi became the friend we were once very close to but who had now drifted away from. We looked at it with longing but only looked. Somehow the bar bolstered on.
They rolled out new regular events at lightning speed.
Two French DJs -- Paul-Henri Moal and Dimitri Mathieu -- calling themselves the Indian Hipsters hosted the monthly LA Fresh nights. One evening every month was for Microgroove, the vinyl club. There was dubstep by DJ Pravy Prav and DJ Uri. And all these were fresh new sounds that fit with Zenzi's original music mandate.
The young blood was backed up by Kris Correya (now part of an outfit called Bay Beat Collective) who played regularly.
Bhavishyavani Future Sounds, an Indo-French collective driven by DJs Charles Nuez and Mathieu Josso and Tejas Mangeshkar -- mainstays of electronic music in Mumbai -- would pop by now and then, with much goodwill for old times' sake.
There were also garage sales and LGBT nights. There was Listen Up!, an indie music night with Arjun S Ravi or DJ Paperslut.
The place that started it all
Neighbors and regulations became a looming presence, the location of the bar inside just didn’t seem to work and the former al fresco area felt too damn empty.
Then the Bandra bar decided it was time and made the announcement on September 27.
The Zenzi reunion was held on October 7 and Schabracq flew in from Europe for it.
After news of the bar shutting down went viral, people changed their Facebook profile picture to a black and orange "I am Zenzi" sticker.
Messages were posted on Twitter ending with the hashtag "theplacethatstarteditall".








