Will there be Justice for all?

Music and food are two most intensely loved items in this world. There are very few things in our lives where we can say that we can actually say that we love it or we dont. To me, music and food are those elusive factors in our lives where we can be honest. But, like many other things in our 'constantly' changing lives, these fantastic elements have also changed their intrinsic character. People are confused as they are exposed to a glut of information, comfort and knowledge. A normal human brain like mine can only retain a few things which is almost universal in all of us, I presume. Music is love for live. Food is the passion in life. Music enthralls the mind and kicks in that high. It can be classical music, western music, folk music or just a tune that you were humming since that day when you first kissed her. It can be anything that you love to sing, even in a soar throat.

I am amused at how people can compromise their so called love for music for the sake of tag/ social status and to earn that air of being 'cool'. The idea is that I am cool because I attended the biggest metal band performance in the country. What if I don't know about their most critically acclaimed record, their most influential number and why, there is still an urge for people to earn this coveted tag of 'being cool'. Yes, it is but obvious that people don't want to listen to metal music when they are not in a queue to earn that badge. they would pass sarcastic remarks that why this is better than the other one and how. But will you stilll love to watch some old hands bang their voices and their strings in the most hoarse sound as possible? Yes, you will remember, I used to dislike them and I still do. But I have to bang my head and play the air guitar to show that I love them too.

I don't understand why anything should have a brand value attached to it. If you love it, then you love it for the reason it is. You don't love it for the brand value that it has created over the years. But you love it for it allows you to unwind in that music. You can release your anger, love, compassion or what ever mood that you are in. This can be done only through your inner rhythm rhymes with your taste of music, whatever that may be. But over the years, we have lost our own identity among ourselves. We used to love Bryan Adams but now we dont say it. Why? Oh! This is for kids who want to rock. I am not a kid as I have matured in listening to rock music. I no longer listen to Bryan Adams or Micheal Learns to Rock or even The Beatles or Elvis. I am more of a Metallica/ Pink Floyd fan now. This is superficial. Inside, you still like them but don't muster the courage to admit it. I reason why not. If you love something, you should keep on loving it. And, yes, you can be a fan of Bryan Adams, The Beatles, Pink Floyd, Metallica, MLTR, Keb Mo, Miles Davies or The Moody Blues all at the same time.

Does it forbid us to not listen to Bollywood numbers? Yes, if you believe in trends and no, if you believe in test of time. Why do we disown any local band or artist just because he sings more closer to earth he was born? Why is it that it may not be fashionable to listen to a Baul song, or watch a Bharatnatyam or a Mohammed Aziz's number from a Bollywood movie from 1980s? Its alright. You can love it and you dont need to hide it because people may laugh at it. They may think what a bizzare and out of fashion music taste that you have. However, in the course of time, what you will earn, while others keep on running after keeping apace with new trends, that you will become a trend in yourself. And, you will be proud of it.

The idea should be to appreciate what you love. Then, there will be justice for all and you will be master of your loved puppets.

Enjoy the music! Live it!

A Walk through the Old Corridor

It turned out to be a fantasy. A dream would run down to the last drop of life and sweat out of me. Never I had this thought that at a ripe age for banging my head against the raging machine of oldness, then I realized that my neck was aching like an ageing trooper who have seen enough of blood and sweat yet yeans for the next. No, it was not me who was biting the dust and decided to lay down his friend to this inglorious cruel world. The beginning of this was, however, not a work of wizards. We have to sit tight and watched the tired sun go down at the hand of an unjustified guerilla ambush. Soon the mighty day, tired of being at disarray with the options of daylight saving and heat of global warming or just being lost in the smog, retired and let the blues to take control of the things. Now, that the stage is all set and the pristine whiff of blues sweeping across, there was a sudden death. People from that part of the world, who were happy when they never exist, knocked at the door and banged with some TNT Dynamite. The result was cataclysmic. The madness became an epidemic and everybody was jumping on to the wagon that read Highway to Hell. Within lesser than sixty ticks away from clock of the origin of the disease, all of us went back to black. Was it a rescue mission by the devils of Oz Land or Land of Thunderbolt from the ferocious clutches a God Bless You band that was out to do no good? It seemed I was actually acting hysterical to the fact that we still had an edge. Thank god for sending the devils! But, there is one question that is still haunting me. Who was their Daddy?

It just can’t get any better than this. They call themselves Skinny Alley and I was called myself as moonstruck hoodlum. Out there to catch and earn the prize of watching the God making love to his beauty, I regrouped and briefed my senses to remain at bay as they have resigned long ago. The beauty was a real princess with her mellifluous beautiful neck yearning for the magical caressing by God himself. As he walked in, God looked at her and touched with romance while allowing the wind to blew heavy and carry the blue to paint the sky. Mama came along too with her Vanity Closet where she would have heaps of magical wonders lethal enough to make you good for nothing. She would drag those moments out from the cold storage of my mind to the fore so that it can breathe some blue. Mama! You said it right. Sweet Jesus does not seem to see the blind man. Who are you? It was a question that Mama asked God who was still in romance with her. Junkie! Said the God. And he never turned around to look who is what. Because he knew this creatures use to be mine. Still he knew that these mortals still love to die at a single stroke of God’s hand. Off he goes along with Mama to break a wall that was built long and thick. All the bricks, from where pigs might have flown some day and night ago, are still building the old question thick and strong. Can we do it someday? To break it apart and move on to the other side? Some people thought we have the valour to catch a sleep, while I was walking on a dream, in the presence of the God and Mama.

But Hey Mama! Don’t put your guns on the ground as yet and pull the trigger to that intelligentsia of rationality. Hey Mama! You Rock!!!

What was next in the array of excellence? Well, I excused myself for a brief while some Yankee Indiana Jones yelled and banged without any real fun in it, apart from her. People went mad with the new found Desi Avataar of Shakira. And then the blue eyed boys of Indian Rock came on board. However, there is something that lacked from it for what it is known as. Probably since they were trotting the globe without a snitch for some time now, the energy in their performance was not optimal or that is what I felt. I have seen enough of them and I know they can o much better than what they have done. Yet, it was not a bad day at the office at all for then. They still got their fair share of credit for being sport and performing even when they are not exactly at a better position. The Whisky Blue just let me off the hook and I unleashed myself once we were vaporized. And, there was still room for another shot at the ecstatic feeling. We were already high with the excellence of music at a venue which is equally wondrous. All of like true troopers of rock and rolling on the highway to hell kept cried our heart out to pierce the sky apart. Hey now! All you sinners, Put your lights on now. Make the Parikrama.