Camp Bharat -- Indian Kids Find A Circle Of Friends

THE CLOUDS ARE GRAY on this Sunday morning in mid-August; a chill wind rises from shore. The military-style barracks smell musty. It feels like India, one young camper mumbles to himself, not happily. A bad smell. No MTV. No McDonald's cheeseburgers.

No fun.

It isn't India, but the beginning of Indian camp, a weeklong rendezvous at Camp Casey on Whidbey Island that the India Association of Western Washington sponsors each year to help the children in the dispersed, often disunified community it represents discover a bit of their heritage. The camp, known as Camp Bharat (a sentimental name for India), takes place in mid-August, usually under sunny skies.

This year, a light rain drizzles down as the 56 campers lug sleeping bags and suitcases from a school bus. Their parents want them to experience the feeling of being around other Indians. The children don't see why.

"This was all my parents' idea," says Zarina Parpia, 12. "They want me to know more about India. I'd rather be home hanging around with my friends."

Like many of the kids, most of Zarina's friends are American. She knew none of the other Indians screaming on the school bus that bumped toward Whidbey Island. But her loneliness vanishes an hour after reaching Camp Casey, as she goes for a walk with Anjuli Knowles, 13, an Indian girl her age.

Some counselors turn up a stereo. Loud music they call "technofunk" pulsates. They dance something that looks more like a

drill-team performance than Indian garba. One camper giggles, "I thought this was Indian camp."

At times, the only thing Indian about the camp seems to be its participants. Campers, counselors and adult staffers spend their free time throwing frisbees. They eat huge servings of tacos and salad. One adult adviser, Padma Rao, confides she decided to wear a sari partly so the children would remember the camp was about Indian culture.

Counselors run classes on culture - sessions many children admit put them to sleep. In free time, counselors - aged 16 to 19 - try to organize Indian games. But getting the kids to participate can be a challenge.

As Gautam Velamoor explains the rules of cricket, one boy, Luke Milasich, mutters, "This is stupid. I'd rather play basketball." His friend, Paritosh Somani, shakes his head as Gautam bowls a cricket ball to a batter. Paritosh doesn't want to bat. He plays baseball, he explains. The swing's different.

Admittedly, it's hard to make children jump over every "Indian" activity. They are, after all, also American. Gautam's goal is mainly to show the kids a few Indian things and hope they enjoy them.

Luke and Paritosh discover this, midway through the game. Their friend, Krishna Potluri, seizes the bat and hits the ball. He runs. He scores. They join in. Others call them to play soccer. They ignore them. When it's time to go indoors for a session on religions, they go - reluctantly.

Deepa Ghosh, 16, is the only Indian in her school in Silverdale. The only other Indians she knows are children of friends of her parents. She'd like to find friends - Indian friends - her age on her own.

"It's not the classes," said Deepa, "it's not the learning that counts for me. It's really the feeling of being around so many other Indian kids that matters."