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Indus is described as “a socio-cultural organization devoted to promotion, awareness, education and preservation of South Indian culture.” Since the vast majority of young college students showed up at the Palace of Fine arts in blue jeans and tee-shirts, there may well be good reason. These students are the off-spring of mostly affluent parents who arrived in the United States to provide technical and entrepreneurial support to Silicon Valley. Their parents, educated in India’s best technical and intellectual training grounds, were not unfamiliar with India’s tradition culture; I’m willing to wager a healthy percentage of young women dancing in the contest acquired a working knowledge in Kathak, Bharata Natyam, possibly Odissi, before starting their university studies.

How this Indus-sponsored contest started four years ago I didn’t determine; in those four years Bollywood Berkeley has managed to cross the Bay, hire The Palace of Fine Arts for one night and sell out the house with a healthy waiting line to boot. The event made a San Francisco Chronicle feature story in mid-week prompting the query leading to press passes. I didn’t quite know what to expect, but having seen two or three Hindi films, relished Kapila Vatsyayan’s wicked description of unleashed fantasies in highly improbable situations, I knew I would be well entertained.

Indus apparently throws open the door to any university group wanting to compete; understandably, this year’s performance was confined to six UC System universities, Davis and UCSF excluded, (imagine nursing, dental and medical students having the time to indulge in extensive rehearsals) plus Stanford and the University of Southern California. While costumes and sets are minimal, aesthetic sensibilities were displayed in color choices, ornamentation, and quantity of changes. The wonderfully swishy ghagara with its full-skirted swirl gave way to capris and regulation shirts to traditional choli-like structures. Several navels or their vicinity glinted with glitter, a percentage of them shaking visibly during their assignments; there wasn’t a bindi missing from any female forehead. While the men eschewed bare-chested brawn, loose shirts or jackets gave way to golden stretch tee-shirts or dark garments with striking streaks of colors on the chest.

Based on the display, each contesting school needed to have some form of a Bollywood plot and an opening film or video identifying the players and certainly the principals. Then the film screen would be heisted and the dance proceed to whatever Indian film tunes had been selected.

Harvin Sethi and Pari Mathur, two UC, Irvine students, provided diverting comments before and a lead in to the next university contestants. Their patter was liberally laced with college class references, ethnic paradies and a self-deprecating wit frequently found in Indians of intellect.

The air was permeated with a South Asian “in” atmosphere. Sethi was not averse to guises, moustaches and beards constantly becoming unglued, large glasses proclaiming affinity to Groucho Marx. One memorable lead in provided Mathur a Santa Claus beard, wig and cap and Sethi improbable boobs, exchanging identification, “Santa” and “Barbara”, the latter having to shift the wads of fabric stuffed around his thorax and behaving off putting. Mathur commented, “If we went into business together we could be called Santa Barbara.” Howls of appreciation. Venerable parent has a box of Eggo waffles and his son comes in from surfing. Son comes close to venerable parent, who protests, “You put sand in my Eggo;” a repetition or two it becomes San Diego. Berkeley rated a protester with sign, with raucus recognition.

Aside from a short scuffle at the beginning to demonstrate fitness for the competition, when waiting for the contest tally, Sethi provided brilliant imitations of the rhythms and sound of the Punjabi Bhangra, Bharata Natyam and principal background swells of Bollywood tunes. Some of the dancing was first-rate; all of it was energetic. The number of participating males was surprising and the level of their dancing remarkably competent, considering a culture where males are usually musicians or master teachers. Stanford, UC, Berkeley and USC led the pack in this area. The quantity of pulchritude, curves and vivacity amongst the young women testified to the perennial appeal Indian dance holds. Everyone was performing with a right good will and an infectious humor. Personal enjoyment was patent. I found myself remembering some professional dancers at this age were already soloists or principal dancers.

The five judges, four women and one man, awarded second prize of $750 to USC and pride of place and $1500 to UC, Berkeley. The reaction was positively deafening. I can’t wait for next year’s inventions.