Hammock Hostels - Bandra

Was an awsome stay that i had, it was really fun.

“Clean hostel, good vibe, helpful staff and comfortable stay. Solo travelers ke liye nice option.”

All facilities are clean, great for solo travelers

According to Google reviews, this facility is "excellent." Now that I have stayed, suffered, and left with my dignity barely intact, I curse the internet for throwing around the word "excellent" like loose underwear in a secluded bin. The moment I stepped inside, I was greeted by a dull neon sign declaring, "Come Swing in and Say Hi!" A promise of warmth, camaraderie, and perhaps a pinch of humanity. Naturally, I did as instructed. "Hi," I said, brimming with optimism. "I have a booking here." The lady at the desk looked at me as if I had personally insulted her ancestors. It was a look that, when translated by my ever-efficient brain, read: "Fuck off." Now, I am not one to exaggerate, but her expression alone could have frozen the much polluted Arabian sea. Cold..! Then came the interrogation, which I assume was part of a secret police initiative to root out unworthy guests. First question: "Have you stayed in hostels before?" Ah, a fine trick question, meant to weed out the riff-raff. I confirmed that, indeed, I had. But she was unconvinced. She demanded the names of these hostels, perhaps expecting me to fumble, confess, and scurry back to wherever non-westerners are supposed to belong. I listed them. She remained unconvinced. "Why didn’t you go there?" she asked, as if my mere presence in her esteemed establishment was a cosmic mistake. With the good results of meditation,Patiently I explained that I was here for the screen writer's conference and had chosen this hostel for its proximity. This, of course, did not satisfy her, because my existence, it seemed, was a personal affront to her rotten class/caste/racist sensibilities. At last, after my impromptu police interview, she deigned to assign me a bed—a top bunk so high that it required mountaineering gear to reach. Clearly, this was no accident. But thanks to my enduring, athletic stubbornness and stoic nature. I survived the ascent and lived to tell the tale. Now, you might think this is where my saga ends, but wait there is one last poetic twist. As I sat in the common area, contemplating my tragic choices, a street cat, wise and discerning, sneaked into the hostel, leapt onto my lap, and curled up in contentment. In that moment, I received more warmth, welcome, and hospitality from a stray cat than from the entire staff of this 'excellent' establishment. If only the lady at the desk had possessed a fraction of the compassion that the cat so effortlessly bestowed upon me, this might have been a different story. Alas, the universe has a dark sense of humor, and so do I. Would I return? Only if I develop a sudden craving for existential despair.