Like the eye of sauron, it glowers at me. The maraschino cherry, has worked itself free of my swizzle stick and is slowly working its way up through my kiwifruit daiquiri. It grows larger with every passing second. Its stare becomes more menacing. It pauses for a moment on the rim of my frosted glass before flinging itself at my face. I jerk back, the bar stool teeters and the last thought to cross my addled brain is, "Maybe this wasn't such a hot idea."

Five Hours Earlier:

A silver-grey menu proclaims it as Rain: Bar & Eatery. Amidst swaying bamboo fronds, white pebbles and low-slung tables, early evening diners are digging into "new world cuisine"-chicken tikka infused with tequila, shrimps with prawn mousse and chicken escalope-their plates illuminated by flickering candles. A few steps up from its alfresco dining and a blast of bone-rattling bass hits me. The dimly lit interior is heaving with people. Young couples snuggle around the Wenge wood bar, checking themselves out in the inset circular concave mirrors or sampling-I presume-some of the 15 varieties of martinis on offer. The DJ leans into a headphone, fidgets with the turntable and simultaneously flirts with a pretty admirer while three sharp suited foreigners imperiously blow cigar rings.

This is my first stop in what will become a whirlwind tour of Mumbai's suburban nightlife. A bar-hopping odyssey through the lanes of Bandra, Juhu and Andheri inspired by my editor's last visit to Mumbai. "I hear the suburbs are rocking, go check them out." I jumped at the chance (tell me, who wouldn't. Yudi-in regulation tight-fitting black t-shirt and gelled hair-looks exactly like the regular party animal he is. "Doesn't anyone go to town anymore?" I ask.

"Dude, Juhu is where all the action is; I mean half of Bollywood lives between here and Bandra; glitz, glamour and beautiful people they're all here." A quick chat and few Bacardis later my hit-list of nightspots for the night is ready.

TRES BOTAS With its minimalist décor, exorbitant beverage list and theme parties (in case you didn't guess, tonight is 1920s night), Tres Botas is a favourite haunt of the expatriate community

A group of young revellers is going across the road to Rock Bottom, the latest magnet for clubbers and I decide to tag along. The red-lit endless stairs seem to descend all the way to Dante's nether-nether land before one emerges into a huge cavernous smoky hall. Strobe lights pick out gyrating toned bodies, spaghetti tops compete with mini-skirts, designer suits with muscle shirts. Couples cuddle in alcoves while there is a thirsty throng around the watering hole. Burly and bearded bartender Christopher recommends Epiphany, a Red Bull-based concoction of fresh lime, pineapple crush and ginger juice but cocktails aren't my thing, at least not tonight. White rum again emerges the clear winner and I turn around surveying the huge JBL & Martin Audio boom boxes pounding and reverberating with the latest in lounge, progressive and new age music (alas, very little rock is played). Perched high above his adoring and undulating flock, in a miniature cockpit, the resident DJ holds court, spewing out a slew of psychedelic messages that are flashed with bewildering speed on gigantic plasma screens.

Hedonistic highs may be what lure the young and restless to nightclubs but once there, the place can be anything, even a Rolodex-pumper's delight. "I find it a great place to network and even meet potential clients," confesses Deepa a 20-something boutique owner, brushing back strands of wispy black hair.

ROCK BOTTOM A group of revellers is going across the road to Rock Bottom, the latest magnet for clubbers. The red-lit endless stairs seem to descend all the way to Dante's nether-nether land

Insomnia, the swanky nightclub at the Taj may be shutting down but the suburbs show no signs of slowing down. New night spots are springing up, in narrow lanes, converted restaurants, fading bars, abandoned basements and five star-hotels. With evocative names like Zaha, Hawaiian Shack, Onyx, Temptations, Zouk, Velvet Lounge, Enigma, On Toe's. the appellations (and, of course, the tariffs! ) vary from lounge-bars to resto-bars to pubs and plain old discos. Ironically, what's on offer is quite uniform. The promise of exotic lip-smacking fare, heady beverages, and the warmth of young companionship. With so much to choose from, discernment and exclusivity go hand in hand for the city's club lovers. Inveterate dance-lover Melissa strikes an incisive chord when she says, "You should be able to tell the wannabes from the real happening places."

Everybody wants a slice of the action. Krishna Tamang hopes he'll be second-time lucky with Dusk. Veteran restaurateur and owner of two chic Chinese restaurants, he's just remodeled his Bandra discotheque Fluid and relaunched it as a "lounge bar for the 25 plus". Raw silk bolsters, Thai trellis, glass ceilings, Balinese statues, it's not just the food and drink, even the architecture at this place is "fusion". "Food, beverage, gorgeous interiors are all very well but it's still very difficult to quantify what makes or breaks a place," confesses Tamang sitting in Devil's Den, one of Dusk's four theme sections. The Devil's mask mounted on the wall is leering at me but I persevere, settling on an orange cocktail.

RAIN Amidst swaying bamboo fronds, white pebbles and low-slung tables, diners at the Rain are digging into "new world cuisine"-chicken tikka infused with tequila and shrimps with prawn mousse

Young professionals, yuppies, artists, socialites, celebrities, budding actresses... if the clientele is eclectic, bar owners appear to be an equally off-the-wall breed. A Yale-educated epidemiologist is the last person you expect to find in the middle of Bandra, eleven o' clock at night; decked in a tiara, red elbow-length gloves, matching patent leather boots with a black feather boa carelessly wrapped around her neck. Rachel Sacks-she also happens to be a flautist-is co-owner of Tres Botas, a four-month-old Tapas bar. With its minimalist décor, exorbitant beverage list and theme parties (in case you didn't guess, tonight is 1920s night) it's a favourite with the expatriate community. Says Sapna, a peripatetic Atlanta-based software entrepreneur, who regularly visits nightspots across the world, "When I'm in Mumbai. Their jazz evenings are something I try not to miss."

Unfortunately there's no jazz playing tonight and after hours of being closeted in dark smoky halls, some bracing sea air is what I needed to clear my fuzzy head. On Juhu beach I spot Vie Lounge & Deck. My head already feels heavy, but I decide to take a look. If the suburbs are Sin Country, then Vie is the Capital. Under swaying palms, full moon and a breath taking view of the Arabian Sea, the place is teeming with spaghetti tops, macho half-undone silk shirts all bumping and grinding to lush, easy rolling beats and swinging notes. I weave my way through the swell and heave of hard bodies to the inside bar. On offer are foreign bartenders and over 200 original concoctions, inspired by fresh fruit blends. Ymmm! That's where the maraschino cherry decides to try me for size.

My hobbitesque adventure is interrupted by a muscled hand on my shoulder. "It was late, the place was shutting down and I should do myself (and my liver) a favor and go home." Couldn't argue with that. Goodnight.