Upwardly Mobile Desi Boys

By Sandhya G. Ganti

You have come a long way baby.

Since my days as a fresh-off-the-boat desi, parties have certainly changed. In my distant past in suburban Maryland, parties meant a dozen or so couples gathering in someone’s home, where the smell of curry permeated through the walls and furniture, and you knew the party was a success when the cars — preferably Lexuses and Mercs — had to be parked in the next block for lack of space.

The typical scenario inside was the men around the wet bar, the diamond-dripping women in the Italian-style living room and the kids down in the newly-finished basement, now christened the family room. The food was elaborately catered, usually from some Mughlai restaurant and the midnight goodbyes were mostly perceptible sighs of relief from this claustrophobic, pretentious ritual that was a societal requirement.

Manhattan was where I chose to begin the second lease on life that fate had so generously bestowed on me. And there began my avatar as an anthropologist of the desi party scene. And that’s how I first encountered the species known as UMDB (Upwardly Mobile Desi Boys).

My first few parties were minuscule affairs with 20 singles in casual clothes, consuming beer and wine with the usual falafel-hummus kind of tidbits. We usually wound up in a club of some sort and even managed to make some friends.

Then my life took a dramatic change when I met Mike (nee Mohan). Young, good looking, savvy and straight out of Wharton. He was looking for an apartment with the right address. "You want to invite people to your place at Central Park West, not 95th and Amsterdam get it?" The furniture had to be funky, yet minimalistic and hours were spent on acquiring a multicultural collection of music. The trip to the liquor shop had him drained but it was now time for his foray into the New York party scene.

The most vital aspect of the party is the guest list and you’d be wrong if you imagine that these are soirees where you collect close buddies and those pranksters from work. No, sir, this is the time to crank open your well-organized collection of business cards. You call the investment banker you met at a bar, the savvy single lawyer you met on the plane and all those Wharton grads who are definitely raking in the moolah. More importantly, they don’t come alone, they need to bring in desi clones with Ivy League backgrounds.

Once the males of the mela have been formalized, it’s time for the babes of the ball to be selected. Once again the sophisticated, classy professional is always on top of the list but if the wanton party girl with fuck-me stilettos can make an appearance with a bevy of seductively attired DAPs (Desi American Princesses), there’s no greater adrenaline for your party.

You always arrive after 11 p.m., and flock towards familiar faces. The UMDB is now the debutante at his ball. As intros are made, the success of this party depends on the host knowing not more than 20 percent of the guests. He now mingles and beams as more people come in.

Furtive glances are now being exchanged and while the Whartonites exchange cards and the Harvard Business grads have their own little alumni meeting, everyone’s checking out the booty. UMDB wants everyone to leave happy, so he makes special efforts to hook people up. He, however, is smart enough to keep the best for himself. Parties end with people drifting off to fresher pastures while a few discreet groups with foreseeable amorous vibes head off to various lounges where the heady combination of wine, candlelight and low music aphrodisiacally ensures a few hours, maybe even weeks, of carnal pleasure.

UMDB wakes up late on Sunday morning and meets for brunch with a few of his cronies. The party is now put in perspective, the no-shows are never to be forgiven, the guys with the dweeby friends have been banished from the list and the various new parties you’ve now been invited to are closely scrutinized. It’s already time to prepare for next month’s soiree.

Last year, I met 27-year-old Rishi, fresh out of Harvard Business School, now a consultant in a much-coveted Big Six firm in Manhattan. He described in detail the efforts he made to find his dream residence, a spacious loft in Soho. He was raving about the rather mammoth Halloween bash that he and his roommates were hosting.

Their loft was indeed a dream with the decor so strategically minimalistic yet distinctively eclectic that it implied that this place, reeking of character, be an embodiment of its inhabitants. It somehow made him so much more appealing in my eyes than the average desi boy with furniture from Ikea. Their party was certainly talked about and yet another group of UMDBs had made their mark.

There are certain requirements to enable upward mobility. You need to be in your late 20s-early 30s, you don’t need an impeccable pedigree but an Ivy League background, preferably business school, greatly improves the odds. Looks are only secondary to body type, so between millions being exchanged, a little muscular hypertrophy helps.

The Ferragamo tie and Armani jacket may be enhancing, but it’s all about that subtle arrogance and the heady scent of power that’s projected. You need to be on first name terms with bouncers at most major clubs and chic, trendy lounges because that’s a huge turn on for DAPs. You definitely need the power address and, puhleeze, it’s all about decor. Finally, parties make the man and most UMDBs I know have followed most of these cardinal rules to achieve that coveted place in society.

I wondered what desi boy does once he’s made it, so I called Mike today. He’s no longer in the game he told me, but wanted me to hang out with his friend’s parents next week. Please, no leather Moschino skirts he begged, just a family thing. Called Rishi, who is still making his millions, but now that his roommate with the roving eye had settled into matrimonial bliss with a homely Punjabi kudi, he says he needs more substance.

So just as I got ready to put away my slinky Betsey Johnson numbers, I met Asif. Young, gorgeous and ready to party up the social ladder. Amen, I sigh in relief. UMDBs, may your tribe increase.

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