banana leaves, retro dance and a trophy

yesterday couldnt have been more varied. a clear cold day in bangalore began with breathless activity shunting sanjana for her karate class. she likes it and it seems to be helping her develop a sense of discipline. (of course, that i get the "why karate and all that, let her miss a few classes" from all generations riles me. but then, that is my problem.) after a good breakfast of adais, sanjana wanted to dress up for a formal traditional "do" at the Vidyapeetha Ashrama. so backless ghagra choli, eyeliner, bindis galore, tattoos, bangles and the works later, she looked satisfied. "now i look pretty, right mommy?" you always do, doll.

Vidyapeetha looked like a different world. all the residents were male, dressed in dhotis and janwaaras, carrying scriptures. naamams in ash and sandalwood adorned their bodies and they spoke pure kannada or chanted in sanskrit. oh, and we heard the occasional reference to the impending cricket match between south africa and india in chinnaswamy stadium -- "match yaavaga shuru?" (when does the match start?). a more incongruous comment in that setting was not possible.

no footwear allowed. so we headed to an old polite man who was the keeper of all the sandals and shoes in the premises, paid him 50p per pair (there is still something 50p can buy you?!) and he gave us a cardboard with a handwritten "84." ok. need to keep that if we want our slippers back. but this was a study in india's diversity. and the polar opposites of our own social life. the family which is all tradition and silk. the friends who are all pop-culture and chic. could these two coexist? you bet. maybe as long as they dont mingle ;)

in a quick salwar kameez, kaajal and a dash of sindoor on my hairline, i was the most underdressed in that congregation of kanjeewarams, gold and mangalsutras. i had carried my mangalsutra in my purse, just in case some curious ajji with probing fingers queried my neck... "nodona, nindu wodave...?" (let me see your jewelry). after quick pleasantries with about 15 ajjis and some tathas -- some of whom cynically asked "we hear you are in bangalore," alluding to the fact that we have been quite incommunicado with them, we looked forward to a good banana leaf lunch. soon i blanched at the fact that rice was the main course and more rice was the next, and more... however, the accompaniments tasted really good. trying hard to eat only the minimal carbs in india is a lost cause :)

and, just as we were finishing up, a call came.

"yes, ok. two? alright. yeah, i'll be there." sanat's side of the conversation. darn! he's off again somewhere, i thought. "cricket match," he turned to me triumphantly. "i have two tickets. let's go." 6000 bucks each. WHAT? i could think of endless possibilities of what could be accomplished with 6000 bucks. times two. so 12K. wow. but the half orange (media naranja in spanish is spouse) did not flinch. once in a year. come on, let's go.

we fought about it for a while. it helped that no one else was even remotely interested. and no, it was not the money -- no one even got as far as "how much is the ticket?" just blanket nos and blank expressions to match. wasnt this a cricketing country? werent these guys cricket fans? imagine if this was manish and bineet and macha here. or sucheta. a chance to see dravid and yuvraj up close (pavilion seating)... well, but for these locals, apparently not.

so i went. and i dont regret it one bit. what a view, what atmosphere and what a match! indian cricket is on a high and the team is looking like a well-oiled machine. but more importantly, there is a hunger and a magic to the team that i have not seen in decades. or ever. which easily translates to the enthusiasm in the crowd. it sounded like an NFL stadium there. and i didnt realise the pace of the shots -- sehwag's fours, irfan's drives-- until yesterday. or the dimunitive size of the indian players in comparison with the broad shouldered 6foot-plus springboks. but all the size in the world couldnt douse the fire yesterday and dravid's men marched out triumphant.

and then it happened. we walked out of the stadium and as i pushed through the crowd, i happened to look up and to the left. a face looked oddly familiar standing beside a stunner who was on the phone. i didnt glance at the stunner but strode up to the owner of the 'face' who was standing in the shadows arms folded. "you do india proud and i love to watch you play." "thanks," he smiled.

i had just shaken hands with Mahesh Bhupathi.

we rushed on to change into retro outfits (i wore a shocking pink short kurta with bright blue patialas, tied a bright blue scarf around my head and a sunshine yellow crushed dupatta around my neck) and we rushed across town to rasheeda's party. 3 hours, some dancing (kajra re, funky town, saturday night fever, dus bahane, dancing queen) and much mingling with dripping lipstick and cocktails later -- weary as hell, we made Airport Road -> Lavelle Road in 10 minutes flat and flopped into bed.

a day of contrasts snuffed out only to look forward to yet another.