The melting pot..

I believe in the adage that the eyes see what the mind knows. And that day, after passing an otherwise dreary and totally forgettable corridor, which for a pleasant change, was decorated with a profusion of flowers and oil lamps, found the pattern continued into the work floor amongst other clutter and not-so-ambient equipment. After a quick mental tally and scoring out the possibility of any of the many festivals falling on that day, my guess was it had something to do with the demi-God’s visit. I found humor in considering other plausible explanations for the get-up-of-the-day, which was complete with the fairer sex in the group flaunting their best silks and adornments. I would probably never be able to say, or rank in the order of preference, which among a) staging a Suhaag Raat prop to make visitor’s cultural orientation seem more real b) impressing on the visitor the motherlands ranking in the floriculture business is for real or c) an ulterior motive like triggering an allergy in the already overly medicated foreigner gave me a kick. I really hoped there would be an opportunity to find out if my overactive imagination and the foreigner’s severely jetlagged mind possibly pondered over any or all of the same thoughts even if just for a fleeting moment.

I realized after the colorful and blazing start of the day, the evening was doomed (planned), and I already felt the bile rising in my gut. Another of those not-so-looking forward to get-together was on the agenda at one of the swankiest pubs in town. The only solace though was this time around there was company that could help me keep an I-am-enjoying-myself expression on through the entire evening and in the process, I might be able to actually enjoy it. After a lot of whining and delaying we found ourselves at the venue, that was in stark contrast to how the day began, dim lights, loud music and the natural inhabitants totally uninhibited by either the minimal garments on their own selves or by the profusion of it on the silk-sari clad brigade that made its way in. After the first round of drinks, and the customary exchange of pleasantries with folks you either would not want to be caught dead with or would probably never see again, the party progressed to bring together the best of both worlds. The effect resembled something out of the plethora of parties in the ceaseless saas-bahu sagas inflicted by television on our psych. The effect of the strobes was amplified as it bounced off the sheen of the fine silks, imitation jadaus, and zari borders as the ladies jived with each other to western music from the 80s and 90s. The flexibility on display and cool moves floored me. It possibly would have probably inspired Sania Mirza to play her game in a heavy Kanjeevaram or Manipuri. The payback to bequeathing attire that is professionally accepted, would be that a few of those irritating non-issues around her would have gotten taken care of. It might also have gotten her to withdraw her decision to not play within the Indian territory. The cascade effect would have been that the first citizen would not have been interrupted from her mundane task list to waste any amount of her time in trying to convince Sania. Boy did I miss Sania!! The package included its share of folks who not knowing what to do simply stuck out like a sore thumb. Their visages reminded me of saints because while the reflected nothing, they were not in denial either.

The high note of the evening was the food on the menu. In isolation, it combined two worlds, but when considered as a part of the larger picture, it probably did more than just that. A combination of papads, starters, Thai curry and rice, and of course, additional flavor was introduce when the speakers bellowed “Alice.. Alice.. who the F… is Alice...” (you will have to excuse the profanity. Since it is quoted verbatim, I am sure you will empathize) at which point the members of the opposite sex either denied or cut of any existing eye contact with anyone else, and everyone dived into relishing the final course of our humble curd rice and tangy mango pickle,. Just as I was beginning to bask in the glory of the diversity of our culture and how many variations we are built to maneuver and handle well, my thoughts and attention raced back to our esteemed visitor who was the man of the day in whose honor and joy this fun and frolicking was happening. He wore a very animated expression as he tried to down one too many of the drinks and maybe in his groggy mind was trying to make sense out of what was happening. I could not help but draw my own conclusion of what might be the impressions he will carry back

We like to burn oil lamps which when combined with the smell of fresh flowers gives a very distinct quality to the air in enclosed spaces ventilated only by central air conditioning. Of course he probably does not know that we are already immune to allergies that it might trigger and the lingering odors or aromas in the air the day after
The fairer sex almost everyday wears a sari to office, and it is an all purpose garb
It is being lady like to consume any form of alcohol very discretely
It is expected that ladies swarm & move together in groups like bees, the buzzing noise that accompanies the group is but a natural phenomenon
It is only appropriate that women dance with women
It is only appropriate that men dance with men
We like to let our hair down to the point of seeming schizophrenic whenever there are visitors
Etc….

My love of adages is making me circle back to quote the age old saying… Atithi Devo Bhava (Guests are Gods)… I am sure after all this he left with the feeling that he indeed is one, and I would be glad about it if he indeed did. Nevertheless, since we rallied around him all the time he was here and were pretty much at his disposal, I hope that he did not conclude that our warmth and hospitality was an expression of subservience ……