Filmmaker. Chai over coffee. Always up for a street-photo walk.
The Club is where you reach a real, verified person the moment you need one — advice, help, company, a skill. And where being yourself is finally worth something.
Launching soon — India first. iOS & Android.
Book a real, verified person for the moment you need one. Or become the one they book. No followers. No algorithm. Just people, in reach.
Nearby is The Club's live radar. Switch it on and members around you surface in real time — closest first, refreshed every 30 seconds as the block moves.
Sharing is opt-in. Others see a distance — never a map pin — and one switch makes you invisible. Try it on the phone →
Filmmaker. Chai over coffee. Always up for a street-photo walk.
Guitarist hunting for a jam room around here.
Runs the Sunday book swap at the park.
Sneakerhead. Ask me where the good momos are.
Design student, sketching strangers at cafés.
New in the city. Show me around?
Hosts on The Club offer one-on-one sessions — text, voice, or video. Pick a time, pay 20% to reserve, and settle the rest only after you've met.
Her calendar is checked live before you pay — a clashing slot stops the booking, not your evening.
Your slot is held while she confirms.
She usually responds in ~10 minutes.
Saturday is set. The session opens
right here, 5 minutes before 7:30 pm.
One hour about one suitcase from Lahore.
The remaining ₹960 is settled only after you hang up.
Four states, exactly as the app tracks them. The colours here are the colours your booking wears in My Bookings.
Pick a date, a time, and a duration. 20% up front holds the hour — the rest stays in your pocket.
Your request lands on her dashboard. Until she accepts, you can chat about scope or cancel freely.
She accepts, the slot locks for both of you, and the join button appears 5 minutes before start.
Text, voice, or video — her call, your question. The remaining 80% settles after you meet.
Ira reads Persian land grants the way other people read menus. Fifteen years in the archives of Old Delhi, a doctorate on the city's lost riverside settlements, and a soft spot for family-history puzzles: a torn passport, a half-remembered address, one suitcase from Lahore. Bring her a question — she'll bring the map.
A small advance is all it takes to reserve. It shows the host you're serious — without paying for a session that hasn't happened.
The balance is due only after the session ends. Meet first, settle after — the order most of the internet gets backwards.
Her live calendar is checked at the moment you book. If the slot clashes, the app stops you before any money moves.
The Floor is The Club's single global room — no channels, no invites, no closing time. Walk in and the count ticks up. Say something and the whole place hears you. And when you'd rather be a rumour than a name, put your mask on.
Masks are anonymity with manners — blocks still work while masked, and if you step out, your seat survives a 3-minute grace timer.
One room, one mask, one merciful timer — all real mechanics from the app, none of them optional.
No channels, no threads to pick, no server to join. The Floor is the same room for every member — the count in the header is the whole crowd, live.
Tap the mask and every avatar coin-flips into a persona — the room itself shifts gold to purple so everyone knows the register changed. Blocks and reports still work; cowardice doesn't get a free pass.
Step out and your seat holds for a 3-minute grace countdown — it burns quietly gold and goes red for the final 30 seconds. Come back in time and it's like you never left.
2:41 — seat heldThe number never sits still, because the Floor never closes. Late-night is a mood, mornings are chaos, and somewhere in between you'll find your people.
Up to 50 pages with shared ownership — crews, causes, communities. Verified members only.
Short videos that show who you are — so the right people find you and book you.
The Club was designed backwards from one question: what's the least we can reveal and still let people meet?
Nearby never draws anyone on a map. Others see exactly one thing about your position — a rounded distance, like 240m away. Never a direction, never a street, never an address.
Turn Visible off and you disappear from every radar in the same breath — while still seeing everyone else. No cooldown, no questions.
Booking, pages, the radar — all of it is verified members only. Nobody books a stranger; nobody gets booked by one.
A hard edge. Beyond it, you simply don't exist on anyone's screen.
The radar re-scans itself twice a minute, so it reflects who's actually around.
Build up to fifty pages with shared ownership, verified members only.
The Visible switch works instantly — off the radar before your thumb leaves the screen.
Launching soon — India first.