Back In The High Life Again

April 1-3
Calcutta

Shahrukh Khan is omnipresent in Calcutta, and probably in all of India. He is Bollywood's answer to Brad Pitt and India's leading man. He is also the proud owner of the Kolkata Knight Riders, Calcutta's cricket team and everyone's obsession. He is on billboards advertising everything from cell phones to concrete, in the papers every day, and we were going to his party.

My friends and their friends were buzzing about this party since we arrived; it was definitely built up to be a night to remember. One thing I can say about Calcuttans: they know how to party. First order of business was what to wear. I got the vibe that this was a party to see and be seen, which would be tough based on my limited backpackers' wardrobe. Luckily, I managed to scrounge together an acceptable outfit involving a beach dress and some gold sandals that I had made in Vietnam. The party was a perfect excuse to go shopping, and my stylin' new Indian jewelry and scarf rounded out the look, though I still felt underdressed.

It was a full night out. At home, my friends and I might pop open a bottle of wine, or meet at a bar for a drink before heading out for the night. Here, it's a little bit different. We were invited to Sam & Laura's friends' home to pre-party. They had a designated party room, complete with a full finished bar, landscaped terrace, wrap around sectional and 72 inch plasma screen showing the cricket game. We could see the game on TV (crucial to watch till the end, so we could time our arrival at the gala to that of the players and cheerleaders) as well as the stadium (the world's largest) from the terrace. There were cabana boys who never let my Ciroc and cranberry get below three quarters full. Around midnight, the coffee tables were cleared and piping hot kati rolls stuffed with deliciously spiced chicken or shrimp were brought out. This was a party unto itself. At about half past 12, we all piled into our respective vehicles and headed to one of the city's luxury hotels for the main event of the night.

The KKR won, so spirits were high and celebratory. For a minute I felt like I was working, escorting some rock band, since there were paparazzi, VIP lists, security check point, red carpet, etc. except this was not work, this was my first night out in India and it was fabulous. The entire event was open bar (those are a thing of the past in the States, where you're lucky if Bud Lite Lime wants to throw you a couple of cases and demands a huge banner in the middle of your party in return). The next two hours were spent drinking, dancing, hobnobbing with Calcutta's jetset crowd of natives and expats, bumping into cricketeers, and eagerly awaiting the arrival of Shahrukh Khan. It was a definite steady build (“Is Shahrukh here yet?” “Do you think he'll speak?” “I heard his car just arrived.”) as if the entire room was waiting with bated breath. When the moment finally arrived, and he was introduced on the stage...his arrival culminated with. a.....full runway fashion show! I kid you not; this was like being at Bryant Park in February. Cutting edge actor, cutting edge cricket team, cutting edge Indian fashion. Where was I again?

At about 2:30, around the time when dudes would be getting rowdy and tossed from New York bars, the gigantic buffet opened and we all ate a full meal again. Whatever Indian delicacy you wanted (and some western too), it was there. It must have given us some new energy, because next thing I knew, we were climbing up onto the catwalk behind the dj and starting the night's dance party. I think we got home sometime close to 4. It was a night to remember, and I hoped we made the papers the next day.

No paparazzi shots of our crew (though some of the people I met made it) in the morning's papers, just a combo of a hangover and my weak stomach reacting to India. I felt pretty lousy and a massage sounded like a great idea. Off to the mall we headed, where I got a very painful Thai massage which did something bad to my back (thankfully Laura was later able to fix it). Massage unable to soothe my hangover, retail therapy was the only option I had left. I got a dress by a famous Indian designer (which would probably sell for $400 bucks in Calypso), and it was a good thing I found it, since there was yet another party to attend that night!

This party started at the respectable hour of 9 pm, and was for a friend who was leaving town. Though there was a different vibe, it was in many ways no less grand than the night before. It was held on the tiled marble rooftop of a building that was a city block square and looked to be at least 100 years old. From that roof, you could see all of Calcutta. The cricket stadium, the Victoria Memorial, the Maidan. It was a pretty stunning view, and offered a cool breeze to beat the heat rising off the pavement. I was low energy, exhausted from the night before, so drinks were not my thing that night. I did however, sample some of yet another amazing spread of food. Meter long kebabs grilled in a tandoori oven, biryanis, and the new best dessert around: palm sugar ice cream. I was going to miss this amazing Calcutta night life.

We spent our last day strolling around town. Went to the new market (which isn't really all that new; it's at least 100 years old), where the old Jewish bakery was selling pound cake and Easter baskets. We had egg and potato kati rolls for breakfast, a Calcutta specialty that puts breakfast burritos to shame. We walked around a part of town that makes sculptures for religious holidays to order. We chanced upon a procession of women doing a puja along the river. Some were in a trance, others were just committed. All were doing full prostrations on the hot asphalt for several kilometers. It was a random glimpse of daily life here, and one I was glad to have seen.

We had a royal send off, with twilight swimming and drinks at the club. Vishnu then drove us over the famed Hooghly Bridge to the station, where we would catch our overnight train to Varanasi. I was sure we would wake up to a very different India.