Washington DC:
The first thing I do on waking up - assuming it is not to a call from headquarters - is to reach for my Blackberry. One morning last week, as I scrolled through the international headlines, as well as the predictable assortment of messages from the Foreign Correspondent Club, the South Asian Journalists Association, and various NDTV lists, a totally unexpected message snapped me out of my grogginess. It was an invitation from the State Department to attend a reception thrown by Secretary of State Hillary Clinton for the External Affairs Minister SM Krishna during the strategic dialogue talks being held in Washington.
Now, contrary to what some of you might think, the life of a foreign correspondent in the US is not a particularly glamorous one. I am usually on the other side of the velvet rope, trying to get a "bite" from someone on their way in or out. Not this time. Thanks to SM Krishna, and to India's growing economic and strategic importance, I was going to my first State Department reception.
This was one party I did not intend to be fashionably late for. I arrived a few minutes early and after the customary security checks I was directed to the Thomas Jefferson State Reception Room on the eighth floor of the State Department. It was a long walk simply because I kept stopping in awe. "Did I just spot a Chippendale?" The rooms on the eighth floor are adorned with masterpieces of 18 and 19th century American furnishings. Don't even think of sitting down on them, as you will be politely and kindly asked not to - I certainly was.
What's a party without a trip to the powder room? The Dolley Madison powder room is named after the wife of James Madison, America's fourth President and fifth Secretary of State. Dolley could be said to have invented the role of the First Lady as we know it today. An elegant woman, with a flair for hostessing and interior decorating, she would doubtless be pleased with the ornate, regal, and simply stunning powder room that bears her name today. (The napkins have the Great Seal of the United States but no, the toilet paper does not.)
Now, Hillary is one fine host. I know that she is probably not personally involved in planning the smallest details but as a Hillary fan, I'm inclined to give her the credit. Given the frequency of the times she has to host dignitaries, her team probably has a formula that they simply execute every night. But nothing about that evening seemed formulaic. A musician played the harp in a corner. Champagne garnished with whole wild hibiscus flowers flowed. Eclectic Indo-American fusion food was consumed liberally. The chatter got louder and the smiles wider.
Then the party got really happening. The President decided to drop in. Just like that, you know.
It is a short drive from the White House to the State Department but this one was long on symbolism. Sensitive to the perception that he is not as warm towards India as his predecessor, Obama made a concerted effort to put his personal stamp on the initiative. He first warmed up the audience with his sense of humor, pulling Hillary's leg about the fact that Bukhara (the upscale Indian restaurant at the Maurya Sheraton in Delhi) named a platter after her. Not to be outdone, the president declared, "I want my own platter when I visit" referring to his upcoming trip in November. True to form, he had everybody eating out of his hands within minutes of his arrival.
As he walked away he shook hands with some members of the audience. In the right place at the right time, I thrust out my hand too. He approached me and took it. I wanted to say, "You are awesome. Now fix the spill." Instead what came out of my mouth was something more insipid about how much I enjoyed covering his presidential campaign. Still, he heard me out, gave me a smile and thanked me. Perhaps it was a brief memory of the time when he could do no wrong as far as the media was concerned.
Before the party wound up I got a picture with the gracious host Hillary Clinton. It's not the kind of picture that will go up on my drawing room walls, but I'll treasure it. We look like a couple of girls winding up a night of hard partying.
In case you're now crashing the NDTV server with job applications, you should know that I am now stuck in Chicago resorting to hotel lobby journalism, trying to get tight lipped authorities to share some information on how the interrogation of India's most wanted terrorist - David Coleman Headley - is going. It is mind-numbing work, I wait in vain.
Sadly, it is so much more important than that night at the State Department but when I get really dejected I remind myself that just hours ago, on his 500th day in Office, I shook America's first black president's hand, and I realise my job has its perks.
Now, contrary to what some of you might think, the life of a foreign correspondent in the US is not a particularly glamorous one. I am usually on the other side of the velvet rope, trying to get a "bite" from someone on their way in or out. Not this time. Thanks to SM Krishna, and to India's growing economic and strategic importance, I was going to my first State Department reception.
This was one party I did not intend to be fashionably late for. I arrived a few minutes early and after the customary security checks I was directed to the Thomas Jefferson State Reception Room on the eighth floor of the State Department. It was a long walk simply because I kept stopping in awe. "Did I just spot a Chippendale?" The rooms on the eighth floor are adorned with masterpieces of 18 and 19th century American furnishings. Don't even think of sitting down on them, as you will be politely and kindly asked not to - I certainly was.
What's a party without a trip to the powder room? The Dolley Madison powder room is named after the wife of James Madison, America's fourth President and fifth Secretary of State. Dolley could be said to have invented the role of the First Lady as we know it today. An elegant woman, with a flair for hostessing and interior decorating, she would doubtless be pleased with the ornate, regal, and simply stunning powder room that bears her name today. (The napkins have the Great Seal of the United States but no, the toilet paper does not.)
Now, Hillary is one fine host. I know that she is probably not personally involved in planning the smallest details but as a Hillary fan, I'm inclined to give her the credit. Given the frequency of the times she has to host dignitaries, her team probably has a formula that they simply execute every night. But nothing about that evening seemed formulaic. A musician played the harp in a corner. Champagne garnished with whole wild hibiscus flowers flowed. Eclectic Indo-American fusion food was consumed liberally. The chatter got louder and the smiles wider.
Then the party got really happening. The President decided to drop in. Just like that, you know.
It is a short drive from the White House to the State Department but this one was long on symbolism. Sensitive to the perception that he is not as warm towards India as his predecessor, Obama made a concerted effort to put his personal stamp on the initiative. He first warmed up the audience with his sense of humor, pulling Hillary's leg about the fact that Bukhara (the upscale Indian restaurant at the Maurya Sheraton in Delhi) named a platter after her. Not to be outdone, the president declared, "I want my own platter when I visit" referring to his upcoming trip in November. True to form, he had everybody eating out of his hands within minutes of his arrival.
As he walked away he shook hands with some members of the audience. In the right place at the right time, I thrust out my hand too. He approached me and took it. I wanted to say, "You are awesome. Now fix the spill." Instead what came out of my mouth was something more insipid about how much I enjoyed covering his presidential campaign. Still, he heard me out, gave me a smile and thanked me. Perhaps it was a brief memory of the time when he could do no wrong as far as the media was concerned.
Before the party wound up I got a picture with the gracious host Hillary Clinton. It's not the kind of picture that will go up on my drawing room walls, but I'll treasure it. We look like a couple of girls winding up a night of hard partying.
In case you're now crashing the NDTV server with job applications, you should know that I am now stuck in Chicago resorting to hotel lobby journalism, trying to get tight lipped authorities to share some information on how the interrogation of India's most wanted terrorist - David Coleman Headley - is going. It is mind-numbing work, I wait in vain.
Sadly, it is so much more important than that night at the State Department but when I get really dejected I remind myself that just hours ago, on his 500th day in Office, I shook America's first black president's hand, and I realise my job has its perks.
Track Latest News Live on NDTV.com and get news updates from India and around the world
