Until the last couple of years, Halloween was barely a puff of smoke in Delhi. When there's not much disposable income for the average household, there's not a huge market for plastic bats, devil's forks and sexy witch outfits. But this year, the parties are more than just ex-pat affairs in gated houses. Young well-travelled Indians are bringing home the American greetings card traditions; dressing as the Mask of Zorro, passing around candy and playing Michael Jackson's 'Thriller' at full volume. There's a bar in Connaught Place offering, for a few thousand rupees, butler service, your own personal pole-dancer, access to a champagne bar, and free vodka, whiskey and spicy nibbles all night. One restaurant is charging between 3,000 and 5,000 rupees for entry to their dining room decked out with jack o'lanterns and masks. Another is promising to "switch off the lights every 10 minutes and give our guests a scary dance". I wonder if they decorate the shrine to Ganesh in fake cobwebs.
Tonight, we leave the Indian Halloween scene to find its feet and head out to an expat party on the edge of town. The motley crew of party-goers are all on the roof, overlooking out over the flat buildings of the city as the last bursts of Diwali fireworks pop around them. The sound of Bucks Fizz's 'Making your mind up' winds its way through the air vent, and empty plastic cups are strewn all around. A laundry basket with an American accent berates me for mistaking him for a shopping trolley. A shaolin monk brings up more whiskey from downstairs. A woman who can best be described as a negative copy of Amy Winehouse struts her stilettoed walk towards a spaceman. In the midst of it all, a man dressed in a suit and turban, and a woman in a red sari stand together and stare around in confusion. I realise that they're not actually in costume.No one knows who invited them.
There certainly are many indicators here that Halloween and India are a rather incongruous mix. Most of the party guests here are aid workers, teachers or diplomats. Even in drag, there's no way to escape India. A German vampire laments the fact that the government will not allow Indian children to attend embassy schools, even though the teaching is incomparably better than anything they would get from state-sponsored education. A banyan tree with a knitted octopus on his shoulder tells me that several species of indigenous Indian tree are soon to die out with the rapid increase in floods. A sheriff from Massachusetts sings the praises of the International Baccalaureate. A shirtless cowboy in a long blonde wig talks concernedly about the fact that TB in India is growing at a prolific rate. It's the biggest-killing disease in the country by far. He laments that the American Government are cutting funds to USAID in India (where he works) when the same amount of money could be used to save more lives here than in most other countries. "But America doesn't care about India," he says, crunching his beer can in his fist. In India, there are some evil spirits which can't be warded away with a candle and a pumpkin.
But while the expats cannot hide their fears behind a ghoulish mask, the novelty is still fresh for the young Indian revellers in the centre of town.And perhaps for them, it can still provide an escape from the real fears which exist for them, day to day. The newspapers still wrestle with their consciences here, musing on whether Halloween is just a Western trend being poularised to make money. But there are also non-economic theories. With 12 bomb blasts ripping through Assam two days ago, killing over 70 civilians, some plastic terror can only come as a relief. "In these modern times," The Times of India reported today, "it just feels good to dress up as a scary character and not, even for a little while, be scared yourself."
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