On Saturday to Tate Modern, for my friend Menaka PP Bora's lecture-demonstration of Sattriya dance, from her native Assam. Menaka, a Ph.D student here, learned the style from her mother, who was one of the first women to take it up, in the 1950s. Sattriya is a monastic discipline dating back about 550 years.

It was a nightmare getting to Bankside in time. I had overslept, got lost in the grey backstreets of Southwark, and ran sweatily up and down between levels two and one at the Tate in a state of growing panic, looking for McAulay Studio B and convinced I had missed the 11.30 presentation.

When I eventually found it, the room was dark. Was I too late? Had everyone packed up and gone? No. A passing caretaker pushed open the door and I saw rows of delegates watching a slide show. I entered and found Menaka in costume, an empty chair at her side and an explanation that I wasn't the only one running late on her lips.

After sitting through another hour or so of papers - including a rather too explicitly illustrated one on the homoerotic art of Robert Mapplethorpe - and a Q&A session, it was Menaka's turn.

She had requested that I take some pictures on her camera as well as my own. So, the front row being occupied, I knelt to one side, snapped away and took some notes, while she spoke eloquently and confidently on the theme of Dancing Through Soul and Body: Organic Fusion of Spiritual and Material Existence - the 'fusion' being Sattriya. Menaka showed some pictures of monks performing it in Assam, but also referred to the contemporary, more theatrical art form, as danced by her mother and herself. But the best was yet to come.

The audience were invited to leave their seats and join Menaka in a clear space at the side of the room. Some of us sat on the floor while a spotlit Menaka performed a version of the traditional Dushavatar - the ten incarnations of Lord Krishna - to recorded music. She was flawless as she circled and glided, striking dramatic poses and easing out of them. An initially neutral audience were completely won over and made enthusiastic Sattriya converts in a matter of minutes.

By now I was in dire need of nicotine. I returned to find a tuna sandwich going spare, so I had that. Then it was up in the lift to the cramped bar and restaurant on the seventh floor with Menaka and some of her university friends, and a stunning view of the drizzle. The dome of St Paul's was out there, somewhere.

Indira and Menaka PP Bora are here

A week on from the press launch I was ready to see this Hindi film again today. It was even more moving than the first time.

Both the male lead, Vivek Oberoi, and the director, Subhash Ghai, had been positively ardent in their advocacy of this tale of a 'Britisher' returning to India after nearly 60 years, and recounting her tale of Anglo-Indian romance at the time of Partition in flawless Hindi to astonished journalists.

Subhashji had told me about his efforts to tell the story 'from the British perspective'. He had uncovered stories of tearful farewells in his research, of English and Indians becoming like family. Mr Ghai argued convincingly for viewing the occupiers as individuals, and Kisna - unlike many previous films - demonstrates this more mature approach.

Blonde beauty Antonia Bernath, having captivated the Indian audience (and me!) with a stunning film debut as the young Katherine, is ironically the least enamoured of the film. As I packed my tape recorder away, I asked whether she would be doing any more Bollywood films. She pulled a face and said "Nah!"

Antonia (ex Bristol Old Vic and Casualty) is, I hear, off to the States, to play Priscilla Presley in a TV mini-series.