Gabe was a model in a Runway Show

“Why are we here? What did we do to end up here? What was the series of events?” I was audibly expressing my existential thoughts to both myself and Jonathan at 3 am at the neighboring college. Our hands were pruney from the rain; our eyes felt if they could be pruney, they would be. My pants were filled with rainwater. Ian and Jonathan attempted to sleep, slouched in their chairs and Jonathan kept his collar up–a hopeful but useless attempt at protecting himself from the conditions.

We were at a runway show at the neighboring college. College students pay 450 rupees, which is about $7.50 to participate in the show. Each participating college had at least one “team” of runway models. Pondicherry had two; Gabe was on Team A or B, whatever, and Carolyn, a Fulbright scholar from Carnegie Mellon (she’s more than that, but I will sum the description up by saying she is creatively awesome) was in the other group. We waited outside Silver Jubilee campus for the bus to take us to the next college. Gabe’s group wasn’t quite done practicing, even after rigorous, skip-classes-for-a-day practice for the past day and a half), so the bus departed an hour and a half later. But it was no problem–just another opportunity to binge on mango corn flakes. We got on the bus around 8:30 pm, and when the second Pondi team got on the bus, various Tamil and maybe Hindi chants and songs were sang back and forth. Gabe and the rest of us participated in the clapping. Here is a picture of Gabe dressed in his runway outfit on the bus. The top is a typical Kashmiri look, the scarf, we’re not sure, and the ribbon on his head and on his feet (made to look like Roman shoes), and the sun painted on his face are added bonuses added by his peers to make him look like the sun. To be hopefully not too culturally insensitive, the top looked like something I wore to bed when I was eleven. It came right down above his knees.

Apparently, according to both Gabe’s and Carolyn’s experiences, the stress for preparing for the runway show for the other students was real. Arguments erupted over how to walk on the runway, when to walk, what colors to wear, etc. Tears were shed. Now that the planning was over, it seemed the kids could not wait to get on that runway and strut their stuff.

We got off the bus, still confused as we always are. Jonathan, Ian, and I, who were not participants, had to pay 350 rupees to enter into runway hell, but we didn’t know it was hell yet. In fact, it seemed like we had come across a great musical festival. The food vendors provided an array of tasty treats. Students crowded the stage in anticipation for the Tamil artist to perform. To our surprise, we were going to see quite a famous performer. Leon attempted to tell me what the artist was saying, but we mostly all danced in a large circle doing whatever. These kids are great dancers. I felt like a fool next to them, but a delighted, attempting-to-participate fool. By the time the concert was over, it was about midnight. It was a long concert. The novelty wore off about the second hour into it. Gabe said he wasn’t supposed to go on until 1 am. We were all pretty tired from the day, so we groaned but concluded it was all worth it. The runway shows did not begin until around 1 am; each show was supposed to take about a half hour, and Gabe’s team was about fifth or six on the list and Carolyn’s team was seventh or eighth.

The first team came out with a fierce, competitive edge. It was scandalous really–the saris were twisted at the shoulder, exposing more shoulder than I’ve seen in a couple months. Each kid had a dramatic strut to the very end of the runway. The boys had hard stares and a certain body language to the point I could here them thinking, “I’m going to slowly but confidently walk up this runway with a very mean stare but what do with my hands?” They would pose at the beginning of the runway, at the end of the runway, at each side of the runway, and each pose lasted for about five seconds. The choreography involved spins and stares. It was exciting at first, but then each kid went up and down the runway so many times, posed so many times for so long, and kept staring so meanly. No smiles. Our first thought was, “How is Gabe going to do this? Our Gabe? This is going to be so ridiculous.”

We were sitting in front of the stage, behind the cameras where the stares were directed at. We accepted the rain eventually. At first it was “oh no,” then we danced in it, then we sat in it. Even my armpits were rainy. At about 4 am, Jonathan and I, slumped in our chairs, tried to stair meanly back at the models as a simple protest. Why are these kids so adamant about strutting over and over again at 4 am? This has gone on too long. Just too long. Aren’t they tired and wet like us? Haven’t they already showed their friends their fancy clothing? Narrators attempted to command the audience’s attention with stupidly daunting voices as they said things like, “The game of chess. The most competitive game in the worrrrld. The woman is exulted as the powerful queen.” What? Again, it’s 4 am. Despite our frustration, we were deliriously anticipating Gabe’s debut.

“Next team, Pondicherry University,” announced the announcer lady. YES. Yesyesyes. Gabriel is coming out. Here he comes. We can see him on the side. This is going to be stupidly funny. Yes. Of course, each student had to walk a bunch of times. Honestly, I don’t remember what they did because I was just so excited to watch Gabe “strut,” a walk that I think Gabe is incapable of (being a non-strutter is not a bad thing, of course; strutters can be quite irritating with all the stomping and mean looks). Finally, Gabe is the last. He, as the sun, is alongside the moon, walking behind the group of kids representing different Zodiac signs. The moon, poor girl, falls off the stage. This part is not funny, but Gabe’s reaction is. I was tempted to post the video of the whole thing, but I don’t want some jerk like Tosh.0 to get a hold of it and emphasize the fact that the girl fell off the stage. Anyway, one second the girl is on the stage, the next, the girl is off the stage. And Jonathan, Ian, and I knew that Gabe’s reaction was going to priceless. He looked at where she fell off the stage for a good five seconds just frozen. He later told us he remembered his “coach” told him, “the show must go on,” so he kept going, with the weird stare. He did a quick glance to the left in a sort-of pose then turned around and went back, while staring back at where the girl fell. The stage itself was about six feet above the stage, and there was nothing he could do, and audience members helped her up. She was totally okay physically, but was embarrassed. Our yoga instructor said Gabe should have saved her, which would be impossible because they were too far away from each other, and then went on to say that Gabe needs to be a good husband, whatever that means. Once Gabe got back to the start of the runway, he faced the audience, and the Zodiac models all walked towards him in a dramatic way that made him look like a pseudo god that had brainwashed some minions. Then they all walked off the stage. This all with Gabe wearing his flowy, night-gowny top and scarf. It was brilliant. Jonathan, Ian, and I laughed and laughed to the point where I was holding up my phone with one hand to record Gabe’s debut, and using the other hand to prevent myself from falling on the ground.

Carolyn’s team went on about a half hour later. She was forced to do this hula/playful clawing pose to a song that kept saying, “Touch me, touch me.” It was so bizarre. Leon played a mob boss, which was fitting, and a couple of girls held a fake gun and a chain. At one point, Gabe had come to sit with us and said, “I think this is the definition of nihilism.”

We were and still are happy that we participated. It was such an experience, filled with frustration, laughter, delirium, and something else we can’t quite explain. We took a rickshaw back, refusing to wait to hear who won the runway show competition. As the sun came up, I ran to pee after waiting ten hours, grabbed my computer, and skyped my mom right at 6 am, the time I told her I would. She comforted me with laughs as I told her this story.

We all agreed that it felt like a crazy dream, not quite a nightmare, but one that we could not wait to wake up for as it forced you to contemplate beauty, patience, existentialism, waiting, rain, stares, and so much more. Cool, but let’s try not to do that again.