Spock called it a Vulcan Mind Meld. I call it sheer coincidence.

This writer interviewing Carl Weathers on the red carpet. (Credit: Sameer Acharya)

My esteemed colleague talked about first-person narratives in relation to a topic near and dear to his heart: Star Trek. Reading a recent column concerning the release of Star Trek: The Original Series by my fellow Buzzine colleague and Trekkie, Darryl Morden, he so eloquently stated he generally tries to avoid writing first-person confessional-style writing.

Our minds are officially melded –- Vulcan-style! Indeed, at times, first-person commentary comes off as a bit too “bloggish” and less journalistic. “It can lead you to amateur hour, really,” the respected music columnist said.

“But there are exceptions,” he continued. For him, that exception arose in his discussion of the iconic Star Trek franchise and the release of the original series’ first season on Blu-ray DVD. For me, I am making an exception to the general rule against first-person narrative in the name of Indian cinema.

It has been nine days since I walked out of Hollywood’s Cabana Club, but still today, my mind is playing tricks on me. How does nine days feel like nine seconds? How has an entire work week pass in the blink of an eye after undergoing one of the most enthralling, life-altering experiences ever?

That life-altering experience known as the the Seventh Annual Indian Film Festival of Los Angeles is what inspired me to make an exception to the rule Mr. Morden so eloquently stated. And I make this exception because, as a result of the time I invested in IFFLA, I no longer question where I belong. Between April 21st and April 26th, I was knee-deep -– nay, nose-deep –- in the blending of world cultures. It was six days of celebrating Indian cinema in the center of Hollywood and volunteering my time with a festival organized by an ambitious and visionary Greek woman, all while Carl Weathers nearly cut off the circulation of my right wrist, hand and fingers in telling me he came to IFFLA for the food.

Sure, Weathers had a great point about food. I can always enjoy a good Indian meal! Not to mention, there were some great films played, such as Children of the Pyre, a feature-length documentary in a self-narrative format about seven children who make their living off the dead in the town of Manikarnika — the busiest cremation grounds in India and winner of the Jury Prize for Best Documentary.

Oh, and there was also Kavi, directed by USC film student Gregg Helvey and claimed the Audience Choice Award for Best Short Film after delving into the dark side of India in discussing slave labor.

Obviously, not every film was somber and serious — there were also films like Sita Sings the Blues, a cute animated flick by Nina Paley re-telling an episode from the famous Indian epic Ramayana, and nabbed a Jury Award for Best Narrative Feature.

Faiza Ahmed Khan featured her first-ever feature-length documentary with the highly-spirited Supermen of Malegaon, which claimed an Audience Choice Award for Best Documentary and positively tracked a small group of people living deep in India’s hinterland, relying upon their fantasy associated with the Superman films in order to maintain their sanity.

These four movies are just a snippet of the great diviersity of films presented at IFFLA, all of which made moviegoers laugh, cry, think, smile, frown and (ultimately) enjoy.

Yet for me, the diversity of IFFLA’s films had far greater meaning than providing moviegoers with a solid variety of films to choose from in enjoying the six-day festival. Instead, IFFLA represented the diversity of life (while simultaneously providing the ideal setting for me in combining business and pleasure).

What more could I have asked for? The scent of Southern California’s beautiful spring weather, the thrill of meeting new people, the excitement of being in the heart of Hollywood, the grace and beauty of the Arclight Cinemas, the anticipation of viewing new movies challenging the limits of filmmaking, rediscovering the adulation of my Indian heritage, the pride of mingling with one of the most diverse crowds in the world…

This writer posing with Anil Kapoor and a fellow journalist. (Credit: Surendra Prakash)

Most importantly, spending six days as a staff member of the Indian Film Festival of Los Angeles, I realized how much I love life and all it has to offer. It never once occurred to me that I can have everything I could professionally and personally desire converge all at once for nearly a full week. Heck, I even managed to spend a few days hanging out at the festival with my best friend.

Such is what made IFFLA so interesting and so dynamic. It is more than just a place for movie buffs to enjoy a good film; it is more than a place to soak in the bright (and hot) spotlights during the red carpet festivities; it was more than a place to enjoy tasty Indian food; it was more than a place to meet like-minded people.

IFFLA was much more than all of this combined. In essence, it was an experience. It was a moment frozen in time to really understand humanity. It was a world of diversity -– people from many walks of life, coming together as one in a celebration of artistry and a celebration of living.

Where else can we meet beautiful people, network with fellow industry insiders, watch inspirational cinema, mingle with the stars, and make new friends in the process?

Where else can I talk to one stoned-out filmmaker one minute, then chat with a top-level executive at a major corporation the next, only to be having dinner with a stunningly beautiful model moments later, all amidst strategizing future projects with my best friend, building relations and personal bonds with my fellow IFFLA staff members and meet revolutionary filmmakers?

Where else can an Indian film festival be organized by a fabulously motivated and charming Greek woman?!

I can go on and on, but the point is this: Spending six days at the Archlight Cinemas made me realize what life was really about. It made me realize the only place to find true happiness lies with one’s own soul.

Chris Kattan and Pooja Kumar having fun with this writer on opening night. (Credit: Sameer Acharya)

For some, happiness was found in documenting the lives of a few children who worked at a crematory in order to make a living.

For others, happiness came in the form of being an arms distance away from some of Hollywood’s (and Bollywood’s) biggest names.

Yet for others, happiness simply meant watching IFFLA grow from a very small event a few years ago into a major phenomenon last week in the shadows of the Hollywood sign. I had the opportunity to meet some of the finest human beings to ever grace the gravel and sand of this planet. Some of the greatest minds I have ever known took a few minutes to talk to me.

All the while, thousands of people came together in the name of unity. You see, IFFLA is a misnomer. Sure, it is the Indian Film Festival of Los Angeles, but when I drove home that Sunday night and reminisced over the week that just was, I thought of a simpler name — how about “World Festival of Humanity?”

Yeah. I like that.