Two things struck me while I watched the telecast of the closing ceremony of the Commonwealth Games (CWG) in New Delhi. The first was that no matter how impressive the opening ceremony had been, this was much less spectacular a performance. It began with a martial arts display that was all over the place and was then followed by an old-style parade of military bands. By the time the schoolchildren came on to perform the Vande Mataram, it was beginning to look suspiciously like your average Indian cultural program. This is not to say that the show was bad or that it was entirely unimpressive. But as an international spectacle, it was hardly top-notch. There is something quaint about parading military bands in the 21st century. And as for the school kids, it was the kind of item you would expect to see at the Annual Day of a Sainik school. But what drove home the point was the finale. Long after the tedious speeches by Suresh Kalmadi and Mike Fennel had finished, the ceremony degenerated into a concert. A dozen or so of India's better-known, largely second-division musicians, went on stage and did a medley of Bollywood and Indipop hits. I thought back to the closing ceremony of the Chinese Olympic Games, to the sense of spectacle, to the grandeur of the vision and to the tight choreography. Because India and China are often talked about in the same breath, I thought the contrast was striking. We had none of the clockwork precision or the iron discipline of the Chinese. And you know what? I thought that was just great. It is important that we do not get carried away with all this talk of Chindia or of the two emerging Asian superpowers. We are not yet on par with China and it is foolish to pretend otherwise. But what's more important is this: I don't think we want to be like China at all. Clockwork precision, iron discipline and a sense of chilling spectacle is the Chinese way. It is a reflection of their system of government and of the totalitarian nature of their society. They like uniformity. They like discipline. And they frown on individuality. That's fine. It is a formula that has served them well. But it is not – and will never be – the Indian way. I doubt if the Chinese would ever have allowed any international ceremony to degenerate into a music party where their version of Kailash Kher belted out songs or where Shubha Mudgal sang with a lusty passion. They seek always to impress. Our ceremony, on the other hand, ended up doing something much more primal: it rocked the house. When a Chinese ceremony is over, you are stunned into silent admiration. By the time our closing ceremony ended, the audience was danced out, and everyone's voice was hoarse from singing along to the music. There's a lot wrong with India as the run-up to the Commonwealth Games demonstrated. And God knows, we could do with a little more rigor and much more discipline. But watching the Delhi audience sing along to Allah ke Bande, I was reminded that there is a lot right with us as well. We are the un-China, individualistic, passionate, and always ready to let the music touch our souls. And thank God for that. THE second thought that came to me as the CWG wound down with the music party was how much we have learnt to take pride in our popular culture. There was a time, say a decade ago, when many of us were embarrassed by Bollywood and treated film music as an inferior form of entertainment. Within the middle class, there was a clear division between those who understood Western pop and rock and those who sang Hindi film songs. And yet, watching the closing ceremony, it struck me that the consensus has now completely altered. The most awkward moments during the ceremony were when Shiamak Davar – a great artist in his own right – sang English songs, sometimes joined by Usha Uthup. I won't quibble with the choice of songs though people have a right to ask why Queen hits from the 70s should be dusted off for a ceremony in 2010. And surely, the singing of “We are the Champions” at a sporting event is the sort of hideous cliché that went out of fashion 30 years ago. Nor do I object to Shiamak's singing. He is a multi-faceted and extremely talented performer. It was just that, within the context of India's Games, it seemed wrong and entirely inappropriate for us to resurrect 30-year-old Western pop songs when Indian popular music has so much to offer. Why should Usha Uthup, one of my favorite Indian performers, who can sing flawlessly in six Indian languages, have to sing an English pop song? It was while I felt the resentment over the choice of English songs rising within me that realization struck. We are now at the stage where Indian popular music unites all of us, rich and poor, educated and uneducated, English-speaking and non English-speaking. Of course, this is precisely the function that pop music is supposed to perform in all societies. You don't need an income certificate to enjoy the Rolling Stones. And ever since the Beatles broke through Britain's class system in the early 60s, rock has been the great leveler in all societies. But because India is such a complex society, full of so many divisions and riddled with all kinds of contradictions based around the apparent superiority of the English-speaking elite, it has taken decades for our popular music to provoke the same response across all classes. But as I watched Shankar Ehsaan Loy and the rest rock the house Thursday night, I recognized that the rise of our popular music and the respect we accord to our own popular culture is yet another symbol of the confidence of the new India. We admire the West. We enjoy what it has to offer. But we know that our own stuff is up there with the very best of the West. And what's more, it is uniquely Indian. So, two thoughts, both vaguely related, from the same closing ceremony. We will never be China. We will always be India. And we are proud of it. Vir Sanghvi is Editorial Director of the Hindustan Times __
