White Tiger - The Musical

I tipped my toe into the White Tiger side of Delhi last night. A friend of a friend knew a guy who was having a party at a water park near Delhi airport's perimeter. We drove past parked interstate trucks down dimly lit streets. Rising from the 1am darkness, the spotlit waterslides looked tired, as though they had seen better times. A line-up of late-model imported cars spoke to the clientele inside.

We headed for the open air dancefloor where a motley crew were swaying unconvincingly. Bangra mixed with house music blared out at a volume fit for Wembly stadium, dwarfing the small crowd. We were introduced to a strikingly tall Ukranian woman who said the word 'model' with a thick east european accent. She was smiling at everyone, pulling business cards from her gold handbag as though at an Amway convention.

Under the faux-Hawaii huts, Indian men sipped drinks and slapped eachothers backs. Tired looking white women mingled in their midst, occasionally laughing. There was not a single Indian woman there.

We danced for a while, and talked to some NRI-types from London. One mixed a surprisingly tasty cocktail of beer, pear juice, orange juice and white wine - he swore by it - and so a hangover was born. We ran though fountains and got drenched and then danced some more. And then we left.

It was the wierdest party vibe I can recall. On the way home my driver (whose antenna is clearly more attuned than mine) told me it was a Rs2000 a head function, with the promise of free booze and lots of loose white women. Not pretty. If they ever make a 'White Tiger' musical, they'd do well to include a scene from the water park.