Lazing around on a Sunday afternoon, reading the newspaper, I happened to stumble upon the piece about the German-India Diwali Mela at Indraprastha (to go on till the 11th). I scanned through the article, saw the words Indian Ocean and Beer staring back at me and that was all I needed to pump myself to go to the Mela the next day.
And so I did.
The ride there is quite convenient. Hop on a Metro and land yourself at the Indraprastha metro station. There are free shuttle buses running to and from the Mela.
As I entered the Mela, of course there were a swarm of people (what do you expect, its India after all), but not really the kind of crowd you want to mingle with. So glad that I dragged two of my friends with me.
Stepping onto the grounds of the Indraprastha Park, I felt I hadn’t come to a Diwali Mela, but some sort of an auto exposition. You think Diwali Mela, you think multiple food stalls, bright lights and a spirited vibe to encompass everything. The German-Indian Diwali Mela reverberated nothing of what I expect out of a Diwali Mela.
On stage, preceding Indian Ocean, were two artists who perhaps believed themselves to be rappers, but I most definitely beg to differ. If only there was a genre of music to fit them in, I would.
To the right of the stage was the food stall and in big, fat letters, I saw the words “Beer Garden” sparkling. Reading those two words, I thought, there; this is the reason why I decided to come to this Mela in the first place! Literally pushing my way through the crowd, I brisked over to the Garden of brewery hoping to find an eclectic selection of German Beer. But Alas! As life so happens to turn you down when you expect otherwise, the Germans denied me an affordable “selection” of their beer. All that was there at the stall was two of their local brews as 500 and 600 rupees a pint.
The bubbles burst. Are you kidding me?! The cherry on top was the pint of Kingfisher Premium they had to offer. Thank you, but no thank you.
Utterly disappointed with the whole arrangement, I could not gather myself to stay back for Indian Ocean’s performance, even though I’ve been meaning to catch them live for a while now.
My friends and I hopped back on the metro and paved our way to Mandi House, to gobble down some gol gappas and chaat in hopes of reviving what had turned out to be a completely unsatisfactory evening.
I’d to like to end this by saying Danke Sehr (many thanks), but on second thoughts, I think ill reserve it for later, perhaps next year, if I like what I see at the German-Indian Diwali Mela.