Planned months ahead, Indian parties are far from the casual ordeal. Platters of aromatic food are presented buffet style. The backyard resonates with the catchy tunes of Bollywood music. The air is filled with an excited and busy fervor, buzzing with the lively energy of the partygoers. As the party wears on the distinctions between these attendees becomes more apparent, with most of them falling into several categories.

The most obvious are the aunties. These women are addressed as “aunty” by all the younger generations regardless of familial relation. Scattered across the party, they are everywhere. Hours of primping lead up to this moment, it being one of their few chances to strut around, impressing all the other middle-aged women. Whether with a sleek updo, a smoldering cat-eye, a glittering sari, or more often than not, all three, something has to turn heads. Image is everything and nothing is glam enough if it doesn’t start gossip. Countless hugs and kisses are exchanged; mingling here and there, their arms extend with a smile plastered on their face as they let out an animated laugh. As they stroll around in their shimmering saris, they suck their exposed tummies in, hoping those neglected workouts and extra servings of rice don’t show. I am obligated by respect and custom to approach and greet each of them. Their eyebrows shoot up in enthusiasm as they let out a lively

“Hiiii!!”. Eyes go up and down analyzing me, and with an expression that borders incredulous they exclaim
“Oh wow you look so good!” The shock in their tone as they say this, gives the statement a different meaning that is best translated as: “Wow you actually turned out decent?!”. Usually the next proclamation that follows is
“You’ve lost so much weight!”, which, again, is said with such a shocked tone that they might as well be saying “What a surprise! You used to be pretty chubby!”. And so, these pleasant “compliments” occur throughout the night as these aunties are endless in their numbers, spotted at almost every corner of the party in their bright and swanky ensembles.

To go with the aunties are the uncles, who are not quite as easy to distinguish because their selections in shirts and ties do not vary much. Most of these men arrive either to socialize, or because they were forced by their wives to attend the party. Usually, these uncles are either meek and quiet, or loud and lack reticence. The quiet ones awkwardly stand in a small congregation of fellow uncles, standing uncomfortably as the rest engage in conversation. Eyes dart from side to side as the minutes are counted until they can leave the event and return to their reclusive lives. Naturally, the more flamboyant uncles are a little more entertaining to observe. After a few drinks they step onto the dance floor. Their arms flail and their legs kick as they move to the thumping bass of the blaring music, causing their shirts to darken with sweat as the night progresses. This entire affair provides endless entertainment to my friends and me as we watch with amused expressions. However we cannot let our guard down on the dance floor, because those exhilarated black dress shoes are notoriously merciless when it comes to stepping on toes.

The next group is there in a moment and gone in another. Consisting of little munchkins, they scurry to and fro in their very own world of games. While engaged in conversation (probably with one of the talkative aunties), be mindful of the little mops of black hair that squeeze past, screaming in glee. Stare for another second and the little body disappears. These children run by their own agenda at parties. Disinterested in all other things the party has to offer, they devise their own entertainment. What exactly goes on in this playful world is anybody’s guess, but one thing is for sure, with whatever recreations they may devise, these little ones never fail to have a party of their own, always ending with begging their mothers for 15 minutes more. If they are lucky their parents will get caught in another conversation with other adults and the child can creep away with confidence that those 15 minutes will stretch on indefinitely.

There are those few adolescents, however, who cannot wait to leave the event as soon as they enter it. Sitting at a table-clothed table with a plate of food in front of them, their eyes face down: glued to their cell phones. These individuals are simply too cool to mingle with the rest of the party-goers. Operating on a less excited frequency than the rest of the attendees, they sulk by themselves for the entire evening. With their arms crossed below their chests they occasionally glance around, surveying the population with disdain. These people usually are left alone, with everyone else being too enraptured in their own leisure to take much notice. And with good reason, for such downcast behavior is not worth ruining another’s enjoyment.

After hours of dancing and socializing have passed the guests begin to leave. The DJ finally manages to quit playing music (after many protests by the “still-got-it” uncles). The auntie’s hair is losing its volume. It’s too many hours past the little ones’ bedtimes and the exasperated teens’ whines are finally effective. These distinctive people remind me of my culture and the heritage I share with them. While they can be ridiculous--and even irritating at times, they make the experience of being Indian the experience that it is. So the time nears for the party to end and the next day to begin. It is time for this glamour and euphoria to be put away, and for these Indians to return to their mundane days. Until, of course, the next party—when they’ll all assemble once again for yet another electrifying night!