Speaking of the anglicized class
The anglicized class in India is quite ridiculous. I had the pleasure of attending "Christmas celebrations" at the Delhi Gymkhana club a couple of years ago. You had hyper-thin girls loitering about in red leather pants; cackling aunties sipping "pegs" of Black Label and puffing Dunhills, young men in suits slow dancing with their portly dates to Bing Crosby’s "I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas."
In the corner, a scintillant Christmas tree, tinselled to perfection, blessed the crowd.
There was pumpkin soup, well-garnished roasts, and a layout of puddings, some of which were probably last heard of in 1950s England.
It was Orientalism in reverse: Here, the supposedly authentic Indians were enacting a most unconscious mimicry. And this crowd, I might add, is the same one thats scoffs at the kitschy provinciality of Americans, (who, credit to the tribe, have at least invented a culture of their own).
