Small Talk

Email to a close friend:

"Oh wow... I just returned from a true-blue scene. It's "Fashion Week" here in Delhi, and my colleague Varun dragged me to this high flutin party by some fashion designer... According to Varun it was *the* place to be and be seen. I saw, within my first couple of minutes: a man in short shorts carrying a puppet named "Princess"; a lady (and/or man) wearing a huge black funeral-like veil thing with a face so painted I thought it was a mask; a multitude of tall thin ladies of indeterminate age; a sprinkling of "Ferungans" (foreigners) from France, Japan, and the U.S.; men in suits; women in suits; a bar stocked with every kind of drink imaginable; firecrackers; waiters in white kurtas carrying flaming trays of "food" (very miniscule bites to eat); lanterns, trees, a bearded man fast asleep on a cushioned settee... and in the middle of it all, a girl in a jean skirt and black tights, holding a cranberry vodka, smiling at everyone while wondering deep inside, 'What the hell am I doing here? When will I ever find a place where I want to be?'"