Extortion to Axetortion

You know, I often think of Facebook as a friendly neighbourhood. But that’s for another post, and I promise to link it here (I have finally figured out how to do it).

Today however, my aimless amble around my community turned into a hit and run when I was tagged in a picture for a gig this week at a club in the city.

The gig is called 'Axe-tortion' and indeed, it is promising to be night of face melting guitaring with four very prominent guitarists in the country! The montage of pictures of these four rocker men, were taken from various sources and put together in a line. Below the picture line-up was a list of their names. One of them is a friend of mine so I was able to immediately put the name to the face. That left me three more names and faces to match. However, something was amiss with the first two pictures and their names. The second name said Milind Deora. Milind Deora.. Deora, Milind.. And then my eyeballs began to grow unnaturally large as I took a closer look at the first guitarist. Was that a club dude waist coat, or I'll be damned, a neta suit? Or is that Mukesh Ambani? No fool, that's ridiculous!



Quick, give me Google!

So I googled his name. I had to be wrong, I'm sure I'm wrong, of course I'm wrong, I WILL BE WRONG!

I wasn't wrong.

Hello young India, guess what, your Member of Parliament from South Mumbai plays Jimi Hendrix.

My reaction to this news was violent to say the least.

So I YouTubed his name, and a long result of 'Milind Deora addresses parliament, Milind Deora on RTI' turned up… but then you hit the 'underound culture' that this side-parted MP also endorses. And you see his name in the same video title as 'Stevie Ray Vaughn', 'Freddie King' and so on.


You've heard of teenage girls turning starry eyed when they see their heroes haven't you?
Well it was like that for me (except that he's not my hero), only that my eyes were glazed and I suddenly received an image of a large tri-colour with a sex-drugs-and-rock-and-roll button badge occupying the central position. Oh sorry, in these days of sedition, it is distasteful to talk of such things.


Anyway, this is not some pseudo guitaring that he does, or some sympathy gigs he is given along with some paid audiences. He's actually playing- no sheet music, no hangs. He's playing real riffs, not faff like the odd chords that I play. And he's playing hard stuff, by blues legends.


He is not much of a performer, and maintains a largely impassive face. But this in itself sent me into fits. If I played footsie with him under the table, would I find him tapping to some song? If I stole his iPod, would I find BB King? Does he sing in the shower?

Ugh.

So to greet his screaming fans, his one hand does the open-palm sign of the Congress at a political rally and his other does a sign of the horns at a gig? And then he brings both those palms together in a namaste?


If I swore, I'd swear now. And spit.


I have a feeling I am the only one who finds these things funny. Why am I flipping about this? Politicians can't play music?

No no, politicians can. Like when Bill Clinton played the sax, see now that was cool.

But our politicians are usually more beast than human. Just like our film and sports stars are more god than human. If Milind Deora was proficient in Hindustani music, I wouldn’t be this aghast. If he played chess, made a damn good chicken curry on Sunday or pursued taxidermy, it would still be passable. But this is music that is said to be from the devil, it's foren music! There is nothing remotely politically correct about Jimi Hendrix. This, is like a ball of wool falling out of Manmohan Singh's briefcase causing him to admit that he knits all the sweaters for his grandchildren. It is as random and ridiculous as that.


As a young person who loves her music like any other young person, and is trying to be a good citizen like any… never mind that, I'm being honest- I am not so sure any more.

Like my mum always told me that clubs were not safe, and my daddy told me to never trust a man with a drink. But Ma, Pa, Milind Deora plays on a stage with a large Tuborg sign behind him!
"Ma, Pa, I want to serve my country. Politics?"
"NO!"
"Ma, Pa, I want to be a musician!"
"NO!"
"Ma, Pa, but Milind.."
"Ma, Pa, I want to be a political musician.. " *pleased at the sound of that*
"Dear Child… " "I never did like Dylan."

So you can be a nine to fiver and a nine to twelver also? Hahaha just who says!


This is more than just a gig, at least for Bangalore, and I see this as quite significant. Bangalore currently frowns upon alcohol and music at the same place [Don't look at me like that, yes it's true, you go figure and we are not discussing this here].
"This is the police. We're breaking up this party."
"Good evening gentlemen, my name is Milind Deora."


When men of steel and women of iron become flesh and blood, when they are close enough to touch the hems of their robes, what do you do? Throw your panties on stage of course.

Everyone was hopeful last elections, when we realised there were so many young people- Sachin, Rahul, Varun, Priyanka, Omar and Milind. Sounds like my best friends at college. And now one of them sits in the general spectator stands at the CWG and the other, well, I wont start all over again.


Hey Milind, I presume I can be on first name basis with you, and that neta suit makes you look fat.

Who Says-Smoking

Pop culture has elevated smoking to a status of romance. A cigarette holder placed between slender fingers, while the woman’s rouged mouth is blowing out smoke rings, shrouds her in smoke and mystery. Photographs that show Churchill heavily puffing on a cigar, coupled with his deep set scowl, lend him a power and a damn-care attitude that lets us know that while smoking may kill him, he certainly will die on his own terms. Guevara has been similarly photographed, smoking a cigar from home, while lost in deep thought. Why, even Cruella DeVille was dressed with a cigarette and did it not add to the terror in her character?



However moral codes, health diktats and just plain culture, have rubbished the activity as a hazard and a premise for unproductivity.

So what does it take to be a rebel? How is a rebel any different from a freedom fighter, a social worker or a terrorist? Don’t they all want change, and to do things differently. It is unfortunate that the connotation associated with the term rebel has come to be negative, and a ‘deviant’ is not viewed as individualistic or creative but as an anti-social nuisance.


There is a nation wide smoking ban in India, which was put in place in October 2008. There is also a ban on smoking being portrayed in movies and photographs, unless they were from a period before the ban was introduced. But tobacco is still grown in India, and more frequent than the much needed dustbins in this country, are little tin shops that sell cigarettes, Pan Parag and tea, to the 250 million tobacco users in the country. India is the third largest market for cigarettes in the world, and whether the ban is directed towards people already addicted to smoking cigarettes, or to protect second hand smokers, is anybody’s guess.

Of all the addictions that are considered devilish, I’m taking tobacco smoking on today, and debating it for myself, irrespective of the fact that I’ve already made up my mind about it.

I’m a non smoker but I have several smoker friends. Heck, nearly everybody I know smokes. I never lend them money to buy smokes but I do accompany them sometimes, on their sutta-breaks. This has allowed me to closely observe the social implications of smoking.


From my inferences, smoking gives smokers a social advantage. “Want a smoke?,” “What’s your brand?” and “Have you tried this brand?” are often used conversation starters.


I know students who smoke with their professors outside college and have seen teenagers smoking with adults in the balcony at parties. I once even asked a smoker friend to oblige a beggar, who wanted some of his cigarettes in Delhi (I’ll explain this in another post, another time).


Thus, the old and young, wise and foolish are suddenly equal when it comes to them being smokers. Their life’s Venn diagrams overlap, with no one side judging the others’ values and choices. “How long have you been smoking?,” “How many do you smoke in a day?,” “Have you tried quitting?” and “How come you didn’t succeed?” means that they have all had some common trials, successes and failures and a considerable amount of experience and insight to share, irrespective of their age and maturity. In the sense, this immediately inducts every smoker into a fraternity, and everybody wants to belong.


Contrary to a non-smokers usual dismissal of a smoker as someone who is weak willed, I contest that on the grounds of the active and conscious nature of the addiction. Unlike an alcoholic or a druggie, a smoker hasn’t given himself over to smoking. Smokers smoke on the go, and capably manage their lives with one hand working while the other wields a cigarette. It means that a smoker doesn’t languish in a dark bar, neither does he shack in abandoned houses injecting things into his blood. One wouldn’t see a smoker lying face down on the road, passed out under influence.

Instead every smoke and smoke break is planned for. Several of my smoker friends ration out their money carefully and budget for cigarettes. Thus a smoker doesn’t sit rooted and smoke all day, all at once, but does so at intervals. This gives credence to their self will, because a smoker always carries a pack of cigarettes in his pocket and can feel it every time he reaches for his keys or wallet, but doesn’t always give in.

And thus, a smoker does in fact have cravings and suffers withdrawals if he isn’t able to smoke but this ensures that he is always aware of his addiction. This in turn means that he controls his own addiction to a large extent.


Life is slightly slower for a smoker. Or at least it is well interspersed with pauses and breathing time- something all our lives could use- even if it means they breathe their own toxic exhalations. Sutta breaks give smokers time to reflect on their ongoing day, calm down, and re-strategize for the rest of it. The demand of their addiction, ensures their sanity and subsequent clarity, simply because they took a time out.


And as long as this remains uncontested, who says?

Who Says

Who says you can’t wear short skirts, can’t pierce the same side of your nose twice, can’t be a nine to fiver and be a loud mouthed biker at night at the same time. Who says you can’t go to church and sport a personal tattoo way down under. Who says you got to finish two degrees and then work. WHO SAYS THESE THINGS. And why not me?

The multiplicity of angles, and the multitude of options- whether it is at your neighbourhood restaurant that serves tandoor, Chinese and Udupi, or this drama of a life- has resulted in the lack of reason for us to take any particular side. This leaves things vacant and cluttered.

But only one thing is right and can be. Though there may be degrees of rightness, the one standing will have to be the one farthest away from the wrong, or even the center. Every other option is a compromise.

Every other option has to be debated out, because we can’t afford to make mistakes anymore. And even though some things are universally accepted to be right or wrong, for the benefit of those who err in their ways and seek to justify it, those who know the right should be able to hold up their end.

I plan on featuring posts titled ‘Who Says’ in which I may argue situations, even if I believe much the contrary of what I write. It will be done purely as an exercise, to annoy myself.