Personal

I LOVE living in New York. In terms of culture, it is truly mind-blowing. One of my favorite things is going to the opera.

The Metropolitan Opera is such a special experience. It is an elegantly regal building, both on the outside and inside, everyone is all dressed up, you drink some champagne at the break, and watch some of the finest performers around.

The first opera of this season for us was Rigoletto. We saw Rigoletto a couple of year ago and the sets were the same, but the performance last week was fabulous.

Rigoletto is best known for the song “La donna è mobile”, which most of the audience hummed along to. Also, the opening number, “Questa o quella” may be familiar to many – what a wonderful opening song to get everyone into a good mood.

Rigoletto is a long opera at 3 hours and it is broken into three acts. The first act sets the scene – we are introduced to the Duke of Mantua who is a womanizer extraordinaire and his jester Rigoletto, a hunchback who antagonizes the courtiers by being mean and offensive to them. Monterone, an elderly nobleman enters the building and accuses the Duke of seducing his daughter. When Rigoletto mocks him, he pronounces a father’s curse on Rigoletto.

Rigoletto goes home and worries about the curse. We see that he has a beautiful daughter, Gilda. He hides her from the world, worried for her safety. Unfortunately the Duke has already found her, but she thinks he is a poor student, Gualtier Maldè. In the meanwhile, the courtiers discover the daughter also, but think she is Rigoletto’s mistress.

Everyone clear? So Rigoletto leaves his house. The Duke shows up and flirts with Gilda. He then leaves. Rigoletto comes back, but it is too dark to see and he’s not sure where he is. He bumps into the courtiers who convince him they are trying to steal someone else’s mistress. They blindfold Rigoletto and have him hold the ladder and they abduct Gilda.

In Act 2, we discover that the courtiers have delivered Gilda to the Duke. He, of course, makes full use of the opportunity. By the time Rigoletto gets there, it is too late. Gilda soon rushes into his arms, weeping. Rigoletto swears vengeance, but Gilda begs him to forgive the Duke since she still loves him.

In Act 3, Rigoletto hires an assassin, Sparafucile, to kill the Duke. He also shows Gilda evidence that the Duke is flirting with the assassin’s sister, Maddalena. Gilda is sent to Verona, dressed as a boy (for protection). Maddalena begs Sparafucile to spare lover-boy, but they need a body to deliver to Rigoletto. Gilda returns and overhears their decision to kill the next person to enter the inn. Still in love with the Duke, despite his various dalliances, she sacrifices herself and knocks on the door. Sparafucile kills Gilda. When Rigoletto arrives, he is given a body in a bag. He opens it and is heartbroken to find it is Gilda — alas, Monterone’s curse has come true.

So, overall a depressing story. But that’s opera. The performances were awesome. Nancy Fabiola Herrera as Maddalena, Ekaterina Siurina as Gilda and Joseph Calleja as the Duke were excellent. My favorite was Juan Pons as Rigoletto.

What a wonderful evening! One thing that makes the Opera more accessible is the in-seat translations – at the back of every seat is a slim panel that translates the lyrics into English. So, you activate the device on the back of the seat in front of you and you can laugh along with the jokes. Ah, technology and the arts combining so well – I love it.

I left India right after I turned 21 and never had the opportunity to vote there. So, now, in 2006, I voted for the first time ever.

On this wonderfully pleasant fall day in New York City, I waited for the morning pre-work rush to be done and then strolled the four blocks to the polling station.

There was no line. Signed in, and then stood in front of the non-electronic machine. It was gigantic. And a tad intimidating. And very cool.

I pulled the red lever to the right and the turned the knobs to pick my candidates. Then, a quick check and pull the lever back to register my votes. That was it. So easy.

It was such a big moment for me personally that I felt it went by too quickly. Without drama. Without the “ta-da” I somehow expected. But as I walked back, I was ecstatic. I VOTED! That was so cool. I somehow expected the people in the street to congratulate me.

Now, I’ve always had an issue with the two party system here. I am socially liberal and fiscally conservative. That option does not exist. When push comes to shove, I will vote for the social values. But recently, things have gotten easier for me — we have two parties – one is socially conservative and fiscally liberal and the other is socially liberal and fiscally liberal. A no-brainer really.

A few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to be part of a very small gathering that met with Hilary Clinton. Damn, the woman is impressive. She is articulate, thoughtful and very smart. She doesn’t have the same charm, the people power that her husband did (too bad Bill didn’t attend!), but she was very, very powerful. I’m very glad she’s my senator — I hope she runs in 2008.

Now, I live in New York, where Hilary and Spitzer will both win by a landslide, but it was still special to be counted. Yes, I was voting for them, but I was also expressing my displeasure with where my country is headed under the current administration. Registering my vote for change. Standing up and being counted.

I slept on the couch. I was up at 3:45 AM. I turned over; my computer was on and plugged in. The browser was open, set to Willow TV. I refresh the browser and start watching the India-Australia match at the ICC Champions Trophy.

Half way through the match, I was feeling quite good. India didn’t collapse. They had 249 on the board. Nice. But then of course, it was back to normal. The batting and the bowling can’t both work well — that is the cardinal rule for the Indian Cricket team. One has to suck!

And the bowlers duly delivered. They sucked (and continue to do so). Australia is just cruising along. They will win this match.

I’ve got to stop torturing myself like this!

UPDATE — This is a great post on why I likely won’t stop torturing myself. At least the World Cup will be in a closer timezone. That’s something to cheer about!