Never Can Say Goodbye!

The first ever Michael Jackson record i brought with my own money.

I explicitly remember this. I used to be a conservative goodie goodie god fearing south Indian iyengar brahmin boy who was nuts about English music, in particular Michael Jackson. I was quite famous for this eccentricity as well. I always used to win 1st prize in the school singing competition for Patel house team. It always was a Michael Jackson song, from 3rd grade to 10th grade. I still have all of those certificates and medals. When it came to the school correspondent’s funeral anniversary, it was always "Will you be there" which was the last song of the event, your guess is as good as mine as to who sang it.

I remember Michael Jackson’s history. I already had "Off the Wall", "Thriller", "Bad" and "Dangerous" on tape. I used to beg each and every cousin visiting and put up a scene, not eat food, study straight through the night to score good marks in school tests. All for that one cassette which costs Rs. 150 every 5 - 7 years when MJ releases an album. In 1995 however the scene was different. My dad’s company was liquidated and shamefully we found it hard to manage one square meal a day after me, my brother and my cousin devoured all the little family money in the name of school fees.

Grandpa did not have the usual Re. 1 he used to give me as pocket money. His pension of Rs. 350 a month was not enough to buy rations at home. That does not stop me from laying my hands on this beauty now does it? I found work. I used to pack worms in a aquarium after school for 2 hours a day. My family never knew any of this, not to this moment. I used to get paid Rs. 4 every day. I waited. The very thought of touching those worms used to make me puke everyday when I used to have dinner. I skipped meals, I suffered but it was worth the effort.

I managed Rs. 250 and I took 29 C from perambur to Gemini Flyover. Spencer Plaza was about 6 - 7 kilometers from Gemini Flyover, I think. I did not have money after spending Rs. 3 on bus ticket since the cassette was a double pack. It must cost more than Rs. 150, I knew. I decided to walk. I walked, I was almost out of breath by the time I crawled my way inside Music World. The manager knew instantly at my sight what I wanted. He asked me to wait. I did, for 3 hours. It was about 1 pm when a carton labeled "EPIC/SONY" arrived and they stashed out the cassettes on the racks. Like a hyena pouncing on a carcass I jumped on the rack, despite no one being there since it was a Monday morning. I paid Rs. 250 and I happily rushed to buy several packets of mineral water and some bovonto to put off the fire that was burning inside all of me and of course, get rid off that dehydration.

I came home, took out the AIWA walkman I had sneaked out of my dads locker the earlier night and I plugged in. What happened next was nothing short of 15 amps of electricity flow through you the next half of the day.
Every year on the midnight of the 29th of August I play "Man in the Mirror" to remind myself it all starts and ends with myself. The good, the bad and the ugly. Today is the first time in my life I will play Man in the Mirror without the man who made it all possible.

Today is a day to remember, a day to cherish this man and to thank him for his gift that has changed things for me and many people that words cannot tell. If you feel it, then be here.

Meanwhile, Happy Birthday. King of Pop!

For the Pill that lived in Pain…

If Michael Jackson was wine, he would possibly be by far the best wine i would have ever tasted in my entire lifetime. I’ve always had this connectivity when Michael speaks out, especially about his childhood and about the children of the world. I think we share a common thread, in the sense that like his, my childhood was not a normal one. Being left out is no fun, especially when your friends are out there playing in the field and you have to sit and watch or see kids around you do all sorts of wonderful things… hiking, cycling, scout, NSS.. you name it. If you even suggest you want to attempt such things, you get laughed at and your capabilities constantly question everyday. It’s not easy, i can tell you that for sure.

Michael Jackson was a pill, a pain killer perhaps. When you turn on thriller and listen to “Beat It” you know you just gotta beat it if you wanna stay alive. You live by the words and with the music. You know you have to “Keep the Faith” no matter what comes your way and if something needs to change for the better it needs to start with the “Man in the Mirror”.

Often his love for other people and others problems will leave you “Speechless” quite literally, that’s Michael Jackson to me. When every time i wanted to jump off a railway track on to an oncoming train and end it all somewhere, something that i heard last night on tape would stop you from irrationality and make you keep going no matter what.

Of course If you are just pissed off and want to find out “Why you wanna trip on me” or just “Scream” and say “They don’t really care about us” when the whole system comes crashing on you, you could always say “Leave me alone” and get out of it. A song for everything, every emotion, every situation, every moment of your life.. its all a song. That’s Michael Jackson. Of course there is this perfectionist and this performer in him like no other. When you watch a young African-American from the most lowest sections of the society grown up on stage and become the biggest phenomenon in the entertainment industry, having someone like that as your role model never hurts. I think its one of the possible factors of my success today, i’ve looked up to people who were born genius and i’ve tried to do achieve what they tried to in my own way. Of course i’ve failed miserably many a times but its never made me stop trying and i guess i’ve at least gotten somewhere.

Today is possibly by far the most bitter day in my life since my grand fathers death. Words fail me when i try tell how much of a personal loss it is to see the most inspiring personality of your life, the biggest motivational factor you ever had pass away. I’ve been so busy onsite with a client i did not read the news or check twitter. When a friend messaged me i was irritated, trust me i’ve heard atleast 500 such “Michael Jackson is dead” hoax messages. Unfortunately, today was bitter reality.

I know i will pick myself up, lick my wounds and move on.. life moves on but life is never going to be the same again. I would just like to say Michael Jackson was the most significant and the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me. Life is a compromise, i’m never going to meet the idol i admired for all these years. This is not the first compromise i’m making though but its possibly the most painful one.

You will be missed Michael, i’m sure everytime i see cheap acts imitate you on screen or some punk rips off your music back here in india, your memory will never die in me and the millions of others that you’ve touched in a way words fail to explain.

#5, Sankara Madam St - Chapter #1 - Jason Doctor

I did a lot of things that required a doctor’s visit all of the time. Of course, being physically challenged means all the more useless doctor’s visits. Cerebral palsy is incurable, but that did not prevent my parents from trying. They tried real hard too. Yunani, Homeopathy, Allopathy and of course the ganapathy who resided on pavements all over the place.

Homeopathy docs did what they did, take the money and bullshit around. So did yunani. English medicine docs did some nice stuff. Made some considerable improvements to the way i walked and made my day better, however they did not predict the usual stuff that happens to cerebral palsy patients everyday and here i’m waiting for the d-day. Nevertheless, speaking of doctor’s reminds me of the very first doctor i saw in life.

Our family doctor, jason. Jason was the typical christian convert. Tall, dark, handsome and smart a doctor. However what made him so special was his medicines. Not only was his injections utterly painless but his medicines had something about them. I’m fairly convinced he believed that the disease must be fought from the inside. So whatever evil is inside, if it comes outside then the problem is outside of your body too?

I should have known better. His pills were usually huge. They were like the size of a jackfruit and somehow they always were stuck in your damn throat and made you throw up. Of course, the smell of it was so horrendous, you threw up even before you swallowed one. One thing though, the moment you threw up you felt better. The only drug that he prescribed often and that i liked was betnesol. Why? Because they were small tasty tablets and chewable.

You could take them to school, swallow one in front of the kids and tell them you are sick. Every enthu pattani kids will yell to the teacher, “miss, dilip is sick miss…!!!!” and the teacher would send me to the biology lab to take rest.

I would then lie in the biology lab and peep through holes in my hands/fingers that cover my face and live in the fantasy land of science and anatomy for the rest of the day. All class bunked, excused from homework, what else would one want as a school kid?

Dr. Jason unfortunately went to the United States. I assume his excellent interaction skills and wonderful professionalism took him places. Sometimes i just wonder what would have happened to me without Dr. Jason’s betnesol. Wherever you’re doctor, my well wishes are with you. Anything to escape that bloody math class. Who gives a shit about least common multiplier and highest common factor? yuck!!!

#5, Sankara Madam St - Chapter #1

Memoirs of Desikachari Thaaththa and Kanakavalli Paatty

Continuing off the last post i start the story of my life with the first chapter.

As vaguely as i remember, my kollu paatty considered me as a re-incarnation of kollu thaaththa. Why? because i was born on the same thidhi as his thavasam comes, same natchathram and of course it seems apparently i had a line on my forehead like a thirunaamam that kollu thaththa would wear. Desikachari thaatha was my fathers, grandfather. His wife died and he re-married my kollu patty who did not have any kids with him. Possibly why kanakavalli paatty considered me to be more like her son than a grandson.

Desikachari thaththa was notoriously famous for his temper and arrogance and charisma, so was i, doubting the charisma part alone. I’ve never seen kollu thaththa but only kollu paatty. I’ve been told stories about kollu thaththa so much by family members i dont miss not seeing him, i have his picture and every event engraved in the form of stories in my mind for eternity. I was told how rich a family we were and the palace like house we owned in sabapathi street next to sembithamman kovil, before we sold it to marry out aunt’s. Thaaththa owned a bus service in ooty and our family people would arrogantly get on it and not buy a ticket and quarrel with the bus conductor. After 30 minutes of hassling they would reveal they were "owners" of the transport company to make the conductor pee his pants and salute adchify with a "saari saaar!" dialogue.

I was also told how thaatha knew every mesthiri and carpenter in town and addressed them derogatorily as "sudran" and called them as "dei thevdiya maa, inga va da, idha pannu da" kind of authority and they would tremble in fear at kollu thaaththa. I was also told after all the work done how kollu thaaththa would give the mesthiri or the carpenter twice the money he asked for or deserved, also buy him tiffin and tea/coffee from a nearby iyengar’s hotel. I was told how big a turban kollu thaaththa wore and how he was 7 foot tall and commanded respect from every person on the street and folks hushed "periya iyer’u varaaru" and wished him good morning/afternoon/evening when he walked by. He always walked, he never drove a vehicle and he always used the bus, railways and tram.

Kollu paatty considered me to be her world, probably. She could not call me ‘Dilip’ and she called me ‘dilli’ which sounded more like ‘delhi’ with a i instead of the e. She was very aachaaram and cooked for herself in her small kitchen and room dedicated to her which had a separate door too perpendicular to the main entrance door. She would ask me every morning which i distinctly remember "dilli, enna da samayal pannattum?" and i would blurt off random things from my cherished desires and i would have it in front of me in flat 60 minutes. Kollu patties thaval adai’s were an extacy. I swallow a lump down the throat as i think of her, she really made life so much worth living for and how a kid i was and never realized what i had in life. Of course, for evening tiffin again i would command "poori", "chappathi", "dosai" and every possible permutation and combination and i would have it. My brothers plea and my cousin (my widowed aunt’s son who lived with us) would sometimes try to intervene and ask for stuff but they never made the promised land to the best of my knowledge.

Finally, i distinctly remember this. All 3 of us, after every nights meal would go to kollu paatty and i was always first to be served in the line. Paatty would have a huge, yellow colour green leave’s designed "Dabur Chavanyaprash" bottle. She would take some ayurvedic white powder which tastes like menthol. This powder she purchased for herself and just for me. It was some sort of protien or immunity booster or whatever. My bro and cousin got just the teaspoonful of chavanyaprash while i got the nice tasting powder along with it too and vayathu yerichchala kottified for the other two, every day.

Kanakavalli paaty also had a wonderful bench cum bed which was cool to lay down on. After her demise this was used by the kids in the house as a place to sit and study. Kanakavalli paatty is no more, the house is no more. Dabur chavanyaprash brings them back to life for a brief few seconds every time i see one.

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Reality Bites!

Apparently the latest publicity stunt is recruiting Kapil Dev into the Indian Army. Captain Suresh pinged me on this.

Right after a great party at a club in a happy mood i find this news a bit inspiring and pissing me off at the same time. Kapil Dev wants to serve in the army, wow! Nice read, call it a publicity stunt which it fucking is, its still nice to hear and is inspiring.

On the flip side, we have screwed our soldiers so much in the Sixth Pay Commision. We have treated them so shoddily that we need celebrity stunts to inspire people to serve in the army. I met a friend today evening who works for the hotel industry and he was telling me how Malaysian Tamil’s crib about who will change this country for the better and how they feel its an impossible task.

I feel for once he is right. For a country that cannot respect the guys and gals who are waiting for the bullet to their head, india is fucked.

Today is October 2nd. I gladly say "Fuck off" india. i’m tired of your indian’ism.

Everybody’s Darling

That’s precisely what she is. I don’t think i can put it in more simpler terminology than that. I specifically shot this image with the title in mind. Some of her relatives were cherishing her surprise visit for her sisters wedding engagement and there was so much fun.

Something’s just make your day..

Not a very day today since i’ve been in front of the computer preparing for a certification exam tomorrow. Its been quite stressful and tiring. Just when i’m about to hit the sack, i check google and guess what? I find this…

The LHC on googles homepage! Fucking awesome man! I just can’t appreciate the genuine efforts and the commitment to science. I feel like as if google is saying "fuck off" to every other religious fuck in the world.

Go Google!

Raji

Oh well, it seems like some sort of friendship week this week since im posting all portraits of close friends. So here is another master blaster. Raji is Sharada’s sister. Ever since Sharada has been to the UK and i have no accomplice for the usual criminal activities i indulge in, to share the guilt, Raji has saved me every other time from falling into the evil hands of goodness and becoming one of those useless, good for nothing nice guys.

Official companion for pointlessly roaming around the city on my bike, official liquor advisor whom i credit with for my heavenly vodka fanaticism, official victim whom i snatch all that calvin and hobbes books from without a zilch of guilt or shame, official complaint cell whom i call amidst her board meeting and crib the hell out when i have a bad day at work or get into unimaginable stuff that cannot be mentioned on flickr since i need to protect my intellectual criminal ideas, etc.,

This image was shot on the day before her wedding engagement when we were having a henna ceremony at home. The look on her face is the brink of the thin red line called patience. She has never kept the henna for anything more than 20 minutes in her life, today she had to keep it for close to four hours.

Hot Air Technology

Sharada can make anyone laugh at anytime, at any given place with so much ease. I consider that sense of humour a fantastic gift and one in a thousand i get to meet have it.  I cannot help but remember some of her crazy jokes while i enjoy the time i spend with her. Here is one to share with you so that you can laugh your but off.

While in training we folks used to play a game of freezing you ass to death, yes literally. Sort of. The back benchers were very close to the central Air Conditioning controls of the training room and often would reduce the temperature of room to 18 or sometimes even 16 or 13 and your bones would literally hurt from the chill air coming off the overhead vent. The trainer finally would find out and ask someone to turn it back on to the more tolerable 23or 25 only to be brought back to 18 when he is not looking.

One fine day, post the lunch break we were back at the training room and we found out the temperature was again set to 18 degree Celsius and this time the damn controls were stuck and broke. While each of us were F’ing around the son of a bitch who turned it down to 18 Sharada came up with an Ingenious technology.

Like a true fighter that takes it on himself with courage and boiling blood, she yelled out "okay, lets all blow hot air into it" and stood up on the chair and started blowing into the overhead A/C vent.