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www.groovekorea.com / January 2014 66 DEsTINATIONs On the joys of attending a Hyderabad f lm festival Story by Jean Poulot Edited by Josh Foreman (joshforeman@groovekorea.com) I picked up the phone and a warm, Indian-ac- cented voice came through the earpiece. “This is Vikram...” “Hi Vik, this is Jean. I’m invited to a film fes- tival in India.” “How lovely! Just wonderful! Where?” I could imagine his head bobbing sideways. “In Hyderabad.” “When?” “Next month.” “That’s fantastic!” Vikram, a native of Bombay, is always gush- ing. “You must come over to our Diwali party. My friends the Reddys are coming. They’re from Hyderabad, and they’ll introduce you to their family who own a hospital there.” When you have Indian friends, you become part of their family. I accepted the invitation and arrived at the party ten days later. I was still in Portland, Oregon, but the Indian Festival of Lights had already started. It was an exotic affair, with the men dressed in luxurious dhoti and the women in sumptu- ous silk saris. The exception was Nalini, Vik’s wife, who is a nonconformist and wore a pair of jeans. As far as my hosts were concerned, I was already in India. On most travelers’ lists, India ranks near the top. It is a country so vast and varied, from lush tropical forests to the foothills of the Himala- yas, it truly deserves to be called a subconti- nent. Its culture and influence have radiated to the East and the West over the centuries, and for that reason alone, India is a place that keeps calling you back. On the Mumbai train station platform, an unruly crowd was shoving their way to get in, which forced me to do the same. It’s easy to lose your temper in the heat, but I kept myself calm with the knowledge that I had a reserved berth. It was noticeably occupied as I walked in. The trains had changed since I had been there 20 years ago. No more steam engines, and plastic coffee cups had replaced the handmade clay cups that people had drunk from and thrown out the windows, littering the tracks with orange shards. No more food wrapped in banana-leaf cones either; they were now sold in Styrofoam boxes, fast-food style. Indian people are savvy when it comes to world politics, and like to express their opin- ions to anyone who wants to listen. In my first-class compartment (a striking change from the second or third class I used to ride in the ‘70s), I talked with a businessman about