Where 80's Music Goes To Die

Currently playing: The Zameer mix (12 HOURS OF 80'S MUSIC!)
My NGO, the Kherwadi Social Welfare Association, is currently participating in a fundraising exhibition of artwork and crafts at a very swanky gallery. All of us at KSWA have to work the gig, hawking these extremely overpriced but gorgeous paintings by our students and today was my day. I arrived at the gallery at 2 o'clock after a very successful errand trip (passport pics that weren't hideous and finding more mefloquine at the chemist to keep me malaria-free) soaked in sweat and without my ever-present sweat rag. After drying out and getting the lowdown from Katie, who was working before me, I settled in with Manu and Sid (who were selling jewelry for their NGO) for a six-hour haul of schmoozing with rich Mumbaiites. The owner of the gallery is a very spoiled son of a business tycoon named Zameer, who is basically a nice guy who has always gotten what he wants and is used to ordering around servants, drivers, cooks, etc. Zameer is also a budding DJ (aren't rich kids always hankering to be some sort of artist?) and had tried to convince Manu earlier in the week to come out to his club (called Enigma: The Lounge) to hear him spin 80's music. Being the stand-up guy he is, Manu had told Zameer that his roommate, Rashmi, LOVED 80's music and would love to come out some night.

So here's the scene: my sweat has just dried, and I've actually done my hair for the day which means it's actually looking contained and curly. Before I settle in, Manu shows me the bathroom and we pass Zameer's office where I get introduced as, "This is Rashmi, I told you about her. She loves 80's stuff." To which Zameer's eyes light up and he barks, "You need to come and listen to what I have here. What are you doing right now? What type of 80's music do you like?" I am not used to being barked at by rich Indians so I smile (to buy time) and reply, "I like a lot of mod stuff, like the Cure, Depeche Mode, Erasure, Talk Talk, you know?" Zameer nods in approval and commands, "Come in. Sit down. Listen to the music." I look at Manu who diplomatically says, "We'll come back. We need to go work now, but we'll be back."

Cut to an hour later, when the gallery phone rings for Manu whose end of the conversation goes like this: "Yeah, Rashmi? She's right here. No, she's not doing anything right this minute. Yeah, okay. Okay." When he gets off the phone, he laughs and says, "Zameer wants you to go to his office to listen to his music." He laughs harder at my face, which I'm sure looks either mortified or afraid. When I go to the office, there is very loud Laura Branigan playing, and the minute Zameer sees me, the first words out of his mouth are, "Who's playing right now?" I shrug, "Pat Benatar?" Zameer shakes his head and tells me to sit down and reprimands my lack of 80's knowledge. In a sudden show of hospitality, he then asks if I want chai and I say sure and suddenly a red-shirted man appears to make my tea. I'm appalled at this because I am not Indian enough to like having my bidding immediately done for me. Five minutes later, with a cup of hot chai in front of me, I am being quizzed by Zameer as he plays song after song. When I miss one, he tells me I have am not a "true 80's fan" and that "this is a brilliant track." Blissfully, he gets a phone call from his wife and I see my escape. I stand up and thank him for the chai and move toward the door. Zameer holds up his hand and I stop moving; he moves the phone away and tells me he's going to make me a CD. I nod and smile and escape.

Two hours later, he comes into the gallery with an MP3 CD entitled "This is not music...this is a trip." (umm...) When we got back here tonight, we played it and on it is 12 hours of cheesy 80's music with no discernible pattern or method; it's a mess of lite rock and ballads and mod and pop. I've decided that when I get back, I'm going to have a dinner/wine party with Zameer's CD. All of you in the Boston area will have to come.

P.S. We all raised a lot of money for our NGOs. (And I swear I will write about what I actually DO during my workdays next. It's just the other stuff is so much weirder.)