Rich boys' club

I've never been a part of any cult. Not when I was in college, not when I first moved abroad, not when I worked for a music firm. I'm passionate about several things, just not enough to evoke that spark of fanaticism. Which is why it invariably intrigues me when I see people around me indulging in those.

My foray into the world of glitzy Apple products has been shamefully late. I still own a blackberry from 1965. But I do have a oh-so-yesteryear hand-me-down iPad from the other half. And I've finally bought a Mac but I still swear by my PC, more for the familiarity factor than anything else.

I met someone on the flight yesterday, a doc at that, who was traveling across the coast to be a part of a Tesla convention. Tesla, for the uninitiated, is the all-electric, sleek car made in the Silicon Valley which retails for about a 100k. It made me crease my forehead in slight disbelief as I probed. He came clean. A convention of Tesla owners was arranged to share experiences/ joy/ pride and discuss the upcoming features. So you buy a 100k car and then fly 5 hours to share your experiences? Yep, he went, not paying heed to the undertone of disbelief in my voice. Then it hit me. He was already converted. Just like millions of passionate followers of events/products from the Burning Man to Star Trek and from Lost to iPhone, this man, a heart surgeon, was undeniably a part of a cult. For a fleeting moment, I imagined being there. He must have read my mind because he volunteered, "it's strictly for owners."

I diverted my attention to the in-flight shopping magazine and to my seven-year old car that's in dire need of service and clean-up.