My Tryst with NetIP

About 2 years back, I had returned to the shores of US of A from the Far East, where I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to ply my knowledge. Coming back I was woefully short of friends (most of them had moved on, changed phone numbers, got married or just did not want to see me). So my one of my last reamining friends from NYC suggested I go to this Desi event for young professionals called NetIP.

Here is the story...

The first thing that caught my eye was the homogeneous dress code by both the males and females. The common denominator was the dark colors. The males tended to be in striped cuffed shirt with nerdy glasses, spiked gelled hair (they go to work looking like this?), a blackberry and a dangling ear accessory called the bluetooth. The females tend to be in short black suits with a bright colored handbag (most probably from a designer that I have never heard of) that had a blackberry, gum and assortment of make up devices. The drink of choice seems to be martini.

The second and most puzzling aspect of the so called uber cool desi where they all were investment bankers with a pad in upper east side and a beach front property in the Hampton's. They all shopped in Milan, went to fashion shows in the spring, went boating in the summer, hung out with P.Diddy in the fall and did charity work in winter. They had read every boook on the NY Times best seller list.

I felt I was in Stepford rather than in Manhattan.

Who are these people?
Who is controlling their mind?
Is such events the way of getting innocent recruits and changing them to these homogenous species?

With the tail between my legs, I ran as fast as I could. I felt all the time I was being watched and followed. After a few fancy zig zagging moves, that I learnt from my devotion to spy novels, I felt I was safe.

I walked into the nearest non Starbucks coffee show. As I sat down, sweat dripping from brow, I looked around and smiled. There was a assortment of characters ranging from bankers to punk rock wannabes to intellects to neighborhood people. I was back on earth.

The next day, I woke up startled and wondered is this was a dream (or a nightmare). I reached for my phone and there was a message from my friend wondering why I ran away last night. Definitely not a dream.

I am happy I am not suckered into that crowd,
Happy I can dress the way I want
Happy I do not have such a miserable fake life
Happy that most of my desi friends think NetIP is nuts