MJ syndrome

The newspapers, the television channels, the internet: today MJ is all over. There is shock, grief, and a standing ovation for the king of pop's swan song. Newspapers have written sympathetic paeans on the rise and rise of the moonwalker, who then got sucked into a quagmire of controversies.
However, one newspaper has not mentioned MJ's death on the front page. I was surprised, but also shocked that it did not mention the pop icon, who revolutionised the concept of music videos; the man who made the common man in India stand up and say, “I listen to western music”.
Kolkata's Telegraph is the paper I am referring to. Instead of the news of MJ’s death, it carried a story on how the Kolkata western music lovers hated to be associated with MJ's genre of music.
But my shock/surprise turned into a feeling of admiration, and then introspection for its content. Admiration because it captured the mood of the elite “rock bands” of the times. Also because the paper risked its readership, risked not covering MJ’s death the way other newspapers have.
Introspection, because it clearly reflected the duality, snobbery or even hypocrisy in me as a teenager or youth.
There was this English-speaking, Yes Prime Minister-watching, party-going youth living in Kolkata’s posh addresses (read Southern Avenue/Ballygunge), listening to Bach and Beethoven for their classical cravings, and turning to Beatles, Elvis, Bread, America and Floyd to whet their rock appetite.
And, then there was this Hum Log-Buniyaad-watching "other group, who got smitten by the “pop” bug when Doordarshan brought Beat It to their drawing rooms when it first telecast the Grammy awards ceremony live. This was the "Western Music" for them, having been fed with Bappi Lahiri and Lakshmikant-Pyerlal genre of Hindi music. And, they lapped it up.
Western music as a concept had been restricted to the LP records adorning the shelves of the elite, the self-styled music connoisseurs, for whom MJ was an anathema. They were the beautiful people, who wore branded jeans (attracting eyeballs), danced and drank in parties, made more friends, and got invited to more parties, and generally lead an “enviable, fun-filled” life.
That was how I, representing a middle-of-the-road group, felt. The group which never belonged to either sides!
I was unable to get away from the easy availability of Hindi film songs, being fed with that genre of music at the formative years of my life. So there were no Beatles, Bach, rock, folk or country, till I "discovered" Cliff Richards and his Summer Holidays. The western music bug bit me too. Suddenly, I had to belong. I had to be seen listening to English songs, like the elite party goers, like those who shunned Hindi film songs. So I started listening to the weekly programme on radio, Musical Band Box, for my initiation. I realised I had half-arrived. The other half, only when I was to be invited to parties. And, that never happened during my school-college days!!!
Then Beatles, Floyd, America, Bread flocked my shelves, vying for attention with hits of Amitabh Bachchan, Rajesh Khanna and even Mithun Chakraborty.
But I was in the middle. I was not really into the English music circuit. I was still secretly (honestly that is the word) listening to latest Hindi film songs. After all, how can I get out of that diet that I had been fed with? I too shunned MJ, and his genre of music. Like Wham, or Boy George and Culture Club. I felt I shouldn’t be discussing MJ, who had stormed into the psyche of the masses. The hoi polloi had rejected MJ as too down-market. And, sadly, I became a ``me-too”.
On hindsight, I feel I had been so immature, so hypocritical. Like a worm that tried to be butterfly, a duckling desperate to be seen as a swan.
A few peacock feathers cannot make a peacock out of a crow. That was what I was trying to be.
On hindsight, I feel I lost my youth in this constant search for being noticed, to belong. What a waste of youth. Now I am trying to see things honestly. Like being proud to say “I love Sholay and Amitabh Bachchan”. Saying this then would have made me a stronger, but most important, an honest youth.

Crowning glory

Tirupati's Balaji now owns a Rs 42-crore crown! This super rich "offering" to the super rich god has come from a super rich Karnataka minister. However, there seems to be no uneasiness of the head that wears this crown.
But how much more coal will we carry to new castle? Gods might be crazy (no blasphemy intended!). But the devotees are crazier.
This minister, also a miner, apparently wanted to “repay back” to the Lord for raining riches on him. His "cut" to the Lord is a cut above the rest.
Oh, to be fair to the minister, he has also decided “repay” the society by setting up an industry that will employ 25,000 people. What benevolence! Employing a handful of the unemployed millions on one hand and giving back to one of the most prosperous temple committees a crown worth Rs 42 crore--what a balance!
An obscene amount this, when the wealthy can afford to rise above the ordinary and allow their “gratitude” to percolate to the needy. Why can’t villages be adopted, why can’t we have a more sustainable literacy drive in those village units? Why this largesse to divinity?
An upcoming Hanuman temple in Chennai, that had already caught the imagination of temple hopping maamis, had put up a huge notice board asking for “generous donations” for a golden gopuram and other golden accessories. The Ram bhakt, the lore says, led a spartan life, chanting raam naam in the rough terrain. And now a golden gopuram for the austere brahmachari!
The idea is not to ruffle feathers. But why material gifts, when we can shower goodwill and spread lateral benefits to fellow humans in our small ways. We need not be industrialists and rich politicians to afford such charity/social service. Probably, I am sounding preachy. But I feel pouring milk over images when millions of kids are dying of malnutrition and hunger in our country is gross insensitivity. Is there a small way we can rethink on our devotional mechanisms?

first gear in cyberspace

This is my first interaction with blogosphere. Slightly late in catching up with technology..
This is my first day in my new home without my daughter . She is seven and is off to her new school following our relocation from Chennai.
Relocation is a mixed feeling. I left behind my friends (not friendship) anf folks, my college, which redefined my career after a sabbatical, my neighbourhood Murugan stores, who would deliver a loaf of bread after a phone call at 9 in the night, Satish, who would smile and give back change even if I handed him a 10-rupee note for a one-rupee coriander bunch. And, Varadarajan, the ever similing man behind the aavin milk booth counter. But most of all, Rita and Parthiban, who have always been by my side, both going beyond their roles of helper and driver. They were not support systems.. They were a blessing in disguise.
But am I missing Chennai? Am I feeling bad that I had to leave this vibrant city, which tolerated me for over 11 years? I do cherish fond memories of the city. But am I missing it? Probably not.
This is not my first relocation. Over 11 years back, I left the city I had been in for 30 years... Kolkata. What a city. Its warmth, its humour, its attitude, continue to nudge me...nudge my emotions....I grew up there..Did schooling and quenched my academic thirst. What's more..This city even tolerated my mediocrity and showed me a career path!!! I lapped it all up.....I do value these priceless memories.
But life moves on. There is always something ahead of us. Something to look forward to. A new place, new language....Getting locked into the past might trip me in my present. So rather than looking behind at the past, I feel the present and make way for the future. Of course, I will never forget my past as it has moulded my present.
I treasure my yesterday, live my today and look forward to tomorrow.
cheers.....