Destined In Delhi

Seán Moran contemplates kismet and choreography.

- Sean Moran

This girl lives in an artists’ colony in Delhi. Although her makeshift water bucket says power Supreme’, India is a country where many people are disempowered, by both gender and caste. This is not America, where anyone can be President. The odds are stacked against a poor girl becoming the Prime Minister of India, or attaining any position of power, supreme or otherwise. She’s carrying water because her home has no plumbing. Her mother cooks out in the open air, over a fire on the ground. I hope that the girl has a flourishing life, whatever direction it takes.

The artists in the colony are professional snake charmers, magicians, drummers and dancers. Despite their grim living conditions, the residents were welcoming. I was offered home-cooked food by people who probably didn’t have enough to eat, but I didn’t insult them by refusing.

I was there to teach local children some Irish jigs and hornpipes on the tin whistle. (The next time you’re in Delhi listen out for any Indian street musicians playing jaunty Irish tunes – and maybe give a decent tip to one of my former students.) In return, they taught me a Hindi song made famous by Bollywood megastar Shah Rukh Khan. I performed it on a bridge in Paris recently and some Indian tourists filmed me on their phones. There are some self-righteous folks who would complain about my ‘appropriation’ of Indian culture, but such sniping is never from Indians. In fact, Shah Rukh Khan himself retweeted the video of me singing his song, playing the flute, and dancing. It went viral for a while, earning the approval of an astounding number of Indians. My musical performance was rightly seen as homage, not appropriation. But I enjoyed the absurdity of achieving brief international fame as a clodhopping dancer.