Of Animists, Alpine Horns and Ancient Tombs

I have been meaning to check out the India International Centre and finally did on Friday night, when colleague NB insisted I get off the PC and out into the night with her.
I just got to know NB better recently. A Cambridge graduate who used to work for the BBC, she is slowly but surely changing the face of Delhi for me.
So we went along with another colleague from Nagaland, EE - to the IIC where an Arts Festival was going on.
We went first to an exhibition on the lost culture of the Nagas - the Nagas look incredibly Malaysian and I find them so cute with their thick Indian accent - I had the pleasure of meeting Mike who took us through the lovely open-air exhibition beside lotus ponds and looming banyan trees. He explained how the animist culture of the Nagas was lost with the onset of Christianity in the region, but now with a deeper understanding among the people of the distinction between religion and culture, the Nagas are reclaiming their past. What was amazing really were the stark similarities with the indigenous groups in East Malaysia - the traditional ikat cloth, the fierce headhunting traditions, the use of cowrie shells and even the rice-wine. (Cute) Mike said there would be a Naga Night soon (woo-hoo!). He also plays the guitar. I really like Mike.
NB wanted to see an Indo-Swiss concert performance featuring the traditional Alphine Horn and Indian musical instruments. So we had a hot blonde in tiny milkmaid dress blowing funky tunes on a big, big horn next to an Ustaz in a sherwani furiously hitting the tablas - it was a little weird at first but it got really good, I must say.
What struck me most was the audience - Indian silver-haired warga emas in droves - who were really shaking it, moving along with the beats, clapping their hands......NB later told me that the IIC had exclusive membership for persons aged 35 and above (wow, I feel really at home here) who also needed to possess a certain intellect and breeding. Apparently membership was so coveted and reasons for rejections were never given, including when the Chief Minister of Bihar was denied entry because he didn't fit the bill and some of his supporters threatened resignation in protest. So there we were amidst ex-Foreign Secretaries, academics, writers, journalists and other intelligentsia of the Indian elite.....trying not to to look like riff-raff. A completely classist affair.
NB rebelliously insisted that we masquerade as members and push through to dinner, which was served in the rose garden underneath a grand canopy of bouganvillas in all its old-world charm. Thanks to her smooth-talking, we were in and sat for dinner, amidst clinking champagne glasses and sounds of classic jazz playing in the foyer. I was hoping to make dinner conversation with at least one person from this prestigous group, but of course they never gravitated towards us. It is now my obsessive goal to meet one of them before I leave the country.
We were driving home when NB stopped the car and told us to get out. She walked us into the Lodhi Gardens at 8pm - I was terribly nervous - but walked a little way in because she wanted to show us ancient Mughal tombs which were housed in the gardens under the moonlight. The October night air was breezy and nippy and the ground was moist - we padded in silently - to behold the breathtaking spectacle of monuments frozen in time, in all its nightly splendour. A private viewing for the three of us, blinking upwards at its magnificience, from the darkness below.
Amazing Event #3, Lodhi Gardens.
(We got out safely).