Groove on the Rubble

While in India, I read Freedom at Midnight. It’s the complete story of the Indian independence movement in the late 1940s. The casual writing style of the authors combined with the dramatic events they retell makes it almost feel like a fictional work.The book masterfully captures the history, diversity and tragedy of the Indian condition–from it’s zany maharaja to it’s inspirational soul, Mahatma Gandhi. Administering a country so diverse, vast and populous must be one of the proudest achievements of British empire. Giving India her independence has to be THE proudest achievement.

Why? Because it’s the weekend of Holi. During this celebratory occassion one tradition is for kids to spray people with squirt guns and pelt people with water balloons.So as I innocently walk the streets taking my last sips of the Bandra vibe, my stomach is a flutter in anticipation of being ambushed by giggling kids. For I am certainly an obvious target in this neck of the woods.I’ve been hit once. A sniper caught me with a heater to the shoulder en route to lunch. I’ve been nearly hit four times. One well-planned tho’ poorly executed attack launched from a nearby apartment had one balloon nearly missing me to the front and two others grazing me to the back. “Suckers!”

I was honored to receive an enthusiastic invitation from my friend and colleague, Deepak, to attend his brother-in-law’s wedding. Deepak really set the bar high for this would-be wedding planner. Punjabi’s are known for throwing particularly fun and festive weddings and he didn’t disappoint.The wedding is a several-event affair. Unfortunately I had to miss the first–a Bollywood-themed cocktail party–because of a few unavoidable meetings (after all my purpose for being here is work). So I journeyed to Delhi for the other couple events leading up to the happy couple’s auspicious day (particularly auspicious if you’re in the event planning game because I think there were to be something like 10,000 wedding in Delhi on that same day).All of the events leading up to and including the wedding had a few things in common: celebratory friends and families, a holy ceremony, music, dancing and food.The first day’s event was a day time celebration with the groom, Anubhav, and his family. It was a traditional Punjabi-themed event complete with traditional singers and dancers. It was awesome. What happens is that the groom’s family gathers and the bride’s family comes to pay respects, offer blessings…and dance!The second event was that evening. Similar to the day time event, except in reverse: the groom’s family goes to the bride, Deepti, and her family for blessings, eatings and dancings.Then, wedding day, which is a pretty elaborate affair steeped in tradition. It was really cool to watch. We started with a family ceremony to bless Anubhav and prepare him for the wedding. He then boarded his white, bedazzled steed and we packed up the marching band and got to marching…all the way to the wedding locale. The marching band and dancing was so awesome. We’d walk a few paces, then we’d stop and dance. Walk a few paces, dance. Again and again. Best street party ever. Once we arrive at the wedding venue, the families greet each other–mother greets mother, father greets father, on down the line to brothers, uncles, first cousins, etc.The bride makes a much-anticipated and awe-inspiring entrance in full wedding dress and then she and her husband-to-be sit for about 1000 photos while the rest of us either look on, chit chat or eat. The actual wedding happens at a pre-ordained time, which in our case was about 4:00 am. It’s a subdued affair and after dancing, partying and feasting some of the onlookers had a bit of trouble keeping their lids open.A few interesting tidbits:

• The wedding was full of traditions that I loved. Like the groom’s sister, Depali, feeding the horse something sweet and tastey in return for her brother’s safe passage. Like waving money above happy dancing people to wish them prosperity. Like the groom having a “second groom”, who is a young boy from the family, to accompany and protect the groom. Like the families and friends of the bride and groom all wearing their families’ traditional turbans. It was all so cool and different and enchanting
• After wearing traditional shoes–which are leather with hard leather soles, and nothing else–all day, I have a new respect for my stilleto-wearing all-night-dancing friends. Wow.
• There were a whole lotta turbans to be tied, so in addition to the usual flower person, caterers, marching bands, we had guys tying turbans
• The wedding was an all veg, alcohol-free celebration. Fortunately, my host shares my fondness for meat and whiskey and knew exactly what was happening when so we take opportunistic meat and whiskey breaks
• I did my best to adhere to traditions–including the traditional dress for fun and assimilation. Ironically, at the wedding I was the only man besides the groom to be wearing traditional dress at the wedding.
• As I was taking the few paces between our in-the-street dance parties, someone said to me that I seemed like I was “part of the family.” That was awesome, and only possible because everyone worked so hard to make me feel like I was

The wedding was one of the highlights of my trip. Thanks Deepak and family. I really appreciate you opening your hearts and your traditions to me.

The entire front page of The Times of India on January 1, 2007 had the following:

India v/s IndiaThere are two Indias in this country.One India is straining at the leash, eager to spring forth and live up to all the adjectives that the world has been showering recently upon us.The other India is the leash.One India says, give me a chance and I’ll prove myself. The other India says, prove yourself first and maybe then you’ll have a chance.One India lives in the optimism of our hearts. The other India lurks in the skepticism of our minds.One India wants. The other India hopes.One India leads. The other India follows. But conversions are on the rise. With each passing day more and more people from the other India have been coming over to this side.And quietly, while the world is not looking, a pulsating, dynamic new India is emerging.An India whose faith in success is far greater than its fear of failure.An India that no longer boycotts foreign-made goods but buys out the companies that make them instead.History, they say, is a bad motorist. It rarely ever signals its intentions when it is taking a turn.This is that rarely-ever moment. History is turning a page.For more than half a century, our nation has sprung, stumbled, run, fallen, rolled over, got up, dusted herself and cantered, sometimes lurched on.But today, as we begin our 60th year as a free nation, the ride has brought us to the edge of time’s great precipice.And one India—a tiny little voice at the back of the head—is looking down at the bottom of the ravine and hesitating.The other India is looking up at the sky and saying, it’s time to fly.

This was the official introduction of the “India Poised” campaign.One thing Susie and I spoke much about when she was here were the seemingly limitless opportunities we see. It’ll be interesting how those opportunities take shape in the next 60 years of India’s long and storied history.

Vishal is my cook. I’ll post a photo of him when I take one (and post to the People of Bandra set).I don’t understand his language and he barely understands mine, but we manage to make it work. I have the same breakfast–omelette with chilis and onions, plain toast and black coffee–so as not to put put any strain on our relationship. We are, after all, just starting out.We communicate in a very “Vishal & David” way. We say a lot without really saying…a lot.[Phone rings thrice (I’m not sure if that’s really a word, but it sounds more playwrighty so I’m using it) and David picks up]Vishal: “Vishal.”David: “Hi, Vishal.”Vishal: “Morning?”David: “7.”Or translated from “Vishal & David” into plainfolk speak:Vishal: “Hello, David. It’s Vishal. I saw you come in last night. Getting home pretty late. Long day at the office?”David: “Hi Vishal. Bigwigs were in town today so we had a little shindig at the MIG Cricket Club in Bandra Kurla Complex.”Vishal: “So I was thinking about cruising by tomorrow and whipping you up a nice, buttery, fluffy omelette and maybe some toast–lightly browned, just the way you like it–and a pipin’ hot cup of joe to wash it all down. Heck, I’ll grab you a paper on my way up, too. I know how you like to keep abreast of the affairs of the day. What time should I come over?”David: “7.”Me and my now former driver, Murugan, and I have a very similar relationship. He mostly answers my questions with “okay, sir” even if I ask him if he’s “parked on SV Road or Linking Road?” In this case, “okay, sir” means “could you pass the phone to your colleague, Ajai, who speaks very good Hindi?”I miss Murugan. Another E*TRADE guy came to town and he has a family, so he got my Skoda…and Murugan.

Mr. Vishnu Sudarsan traveled to Delhi from Mumbai on October 7, 2006 (that was a Saturday). He departed at 8:00 PM and arrived at 9:55 PM. He traveled on Jet Airways in economy class. Jet Airways thanked him for choosing them and wished him a pleasant journey.How do I know this about Mr. Vishnu Sudarsan? Because I just had two fresh, delicious samosas wrapped in his e-ticket. It may not be have been “a valid travel document” but it sure was a handy samosa wrapper.I, too, wish you a pleasant journey Mr. Vishnu Sudarsan wherever life may take you.