International Nights

It's 11:45 when Kapoor glides past a velvet rope and struts into a room where tradition has been dissolved, reassembled and set to an electronic beat. Immediately there are handshakes, hugs, a kiss on the cheek; it's old-home week, bhangra style.

"One of the reasons people come here is they know what to expect," Kapoor says. "This DJ isn't mixing with anything. It's all Bollywood music," he explains, referring to songs that originated in Indian movies. And by "here," he means Bollywood2Night, a monthly party thrown by Vinoda Basnayake and Kunal Shah, two perfectly gelled 20-somethings who intend to become South Asian music moguls. Tonight the party is at Heritage India, a Dupont Circle restaurant that has been transformed into a nightclub for the evening.

Kapoor wades through the crowd of tube-top-wearing women and men in button-downs until he finds a space where he and his friends can dance, really dance. Born in India but raised in Springfield, Kapoor says Indian culture was background noise, to some extent, until he arrived at the University of Virginia, where he began to seek it out more aggressively: downloading music from Bollywood movies, joining an Indian dance team. "For a lot of us, it was a moment where we all got in touch with our roots," he says. "And we ran with it."

Kapoor is still running, or dancing, rather, on a performance team and at parties such as this. In a circle with four friends, his shoulders pop and his chest shakes as a wailing pipe sounds against the DJ's flying rhythm.

Four songs in, he pushes his way to the bar, slaps the back of another friend from the area and glances at the paintings of 18th-century Indian warriors hanging high on the wall. In India, Kapoor says, pani puri, a hollow ball of puffed bread served with mint-infused water, is sold by street vendors. Here it is laced with vodka and served by harried bartenders. Kapoor downs one, orders a cocktail and returns to the dance floor.

"The main thing about Bollywood events is that people are thousands of miles from home, and it's their chance to enjoy the music together," promoter Shah says.

Tonight it's their chance to enjoy the music of one artist in particular. Bikram Singh -- whose Web site claims he's no less than "the embodiment of Punjabi folk music in the new millennium" -- is making an appearance.

"D.C., make some noise!" Singh bellows as he climbs onto a makeshift stage in front of a giant Buddha statue. "Do you want some bhangra? On the count of three say, 'I want bhangra!' One. Two. Three."

"I want bhangra!" his audience responds, pushing toward the singer and holding up camera phones as the smell of sweat begins to overtake the room.

Even after Singh leaves the stage and the DJ returns, the crowd of 20-somethings stays packed on the dance floor, some dripping like marathon runners.

"You need to take a shower when you go home," Kapoor's friend Priya Pandya says.

And at 2:30 a.m., home starts to hold some appeal. Kapoor shakes a dozen more hands as he heads toward the door, shirt soaked and smile fixed.