Laying an idol to rest

Michael Jackson is dead. Buried. No more. Wont moon walk again. Ever.

If you ask people, almost everybody will claim to be influenced by a great person in some way or the other. Maybe it was a quote that somebody said, maybe something great that he/she did, or what that person stood for. For me, MJ wasnt God. Not even close to it. But I cant deny that he was such an important link for different reason throughout the years.

It all started when a family member played the Thriller song, and then Beat it. Well, as a fussy two year old who needed inspiration as a mere reason for swallowing healthy yucky food, Beat It proved to be just that. A great inspiration for my mouth to mechanically move and open on its own. Mom says it was the music. I know better than that. It was a sheer expression of awe, ( open and close mouth), which mom took advantage of. Even as a toddler, MJ's moonwalk and moved totally had me gaping. Nothing has changed even now. Eventually my grandpa got so fed up with my MJ fixation ( considering that the Beat IT and Thriller video HAD to play during my feeding time), that he gave my dad the video to take with him. "You will need this, Bobby' he told my grateful dad. Right he was. Many years later, as a child, I discovered the video lying forgotten in a heap of other videos ( back then , video cassettes ruled entertainment). As I put it on, there it was, the same moves and me still standing with my mouth open, eyes fixed on the screen. No, I never tried to imitate him. While I like to think Iam good at different things, I am only too aware of my limited dance movements. ( the better the dance of people around me, the better I ape).

So, I watched with amusement as MJ's skin turned from black to white. He wants to be white like the rest of America, hence the transfiguration, people said. Nobody ever spoke of the white blotches that had broken out on his skin, hence the need for a colour change. He married Lisa Presley. So, now he became a family man. Till he had a fling with his nurse, became a father and then fathered two more kids. He thought of himself as Peter Pan and built Neverland replete with its boudoir of animals including a cute chimp called Bubbles. His music was still sensational. The dance moves only got better. His concerts had fans crying, screaming and fainting.

Then came the shocker. MJ charged in a paedophile case. More followed. I tried on my part to hate the man. But I couldnt. His music had such a hold on me. How can a guy who makes such great music, be such a horrible character? I chose not to read the news about him anymore. I couldnt bear to see an idol being torn to bits that way.

He went into seclusion and he didnt really matter anymore. His latest album was just ok. Nothing that had his earlier punch I felt. People were more interested in his new monkey face and his latest nose job in a long series of surgeries. Recently he was supposed to go on tour again. Good for him I thought, Till I read that one line headliner in the paper- MJ no more.

Suddenly I am overflowing with sympathy for the man. I want to forget all his crimes and sins and remember only his energy, his good humanitarian works and his music. I have been a fan of his for the last 25 years. And yet I am just one his many fans who invited his music to be a part of their childhoods, parties, ipods and discmans. He was a fantastic entertainer. And an awesome musician. I can imagine my grand children, still gyrating to his beats and words years from now. Because in the end, whatever else went on in his personal life, he left his enriching legacy for the world- a new sound in music. And not everybody leaves a legacy.

Michael Jackson- May you live on , as before, and in many more ways. Rest in peace.

Your lifelong fan.

This cruel world

Something's happening of late. Not just to me, but to the whole world I think. The older I get, the more I am convinced that this world we inhabit is getting crueler by the day. The parameters by which people are judged are changing too. Its becoming necessary to be a master at manipulation, have conversation twisting abilities and if you can bullshit your way through life, then good for you. I think the days when people thought it necessary to be good, and were genuinely good are now gone. Every day somebody is judging you in a cruel manner maybe without even knowing you, and it hurts.

When I was a pig tailed, red frocked little girl, it wasnt a big thing to go and play in the park with your friends. Or go to the store to buy a magazine, or even buy an ice cream cone from a vendor. Or even talk to a neighbour. It isnt that same world anymore. Today, I dont think I would be ok with letting my kid go alone and play in the park, I would get suspicious if he spoke too long with any neighbour or too frequently, and I probably would get him a cornetto over ice cream from a vendor. You get the drift. Maybe I am wrong in judging my neighbour. But the media is to blame. I have read enough of awful news to know that being a bit suspicious and careful is better than having a lackadaisical attitude.

If denying my kid a normal childhood in this dirty world wasn't a crime enough, I know I cannot protect him from further judgements that the world will make of him someday very soon. He will be judged either as a brilliant child or an ordinary one. What is wrong with being ordinary? Truthfully nothing at all, but in today's world it is a shortfall to be anything less than brilliant. An 'ordinary' kid, may never have Pavrotti like talent, Picasso like hand, or even Gates' genius. So he is a failure already. Yet, an ordinary kid may just be a lot more happier than a brilliant one, who has the burden of competition and expectations to shoulder from a young age. Who the hell are school authorities to tell me that my child will never make it 'big"? And where in lies the proof of such failure? Why, everybody else scored 10 on 10 for the maths test and my kid scored only 7.

This horrible crushing pressure of enormous expectations is showing on children. Dont tell me the kid who hanged himself because he scored only 97% in his exams, was playing around with a rope. Or the child who drank poison, on failing to get a seat in the college of his choice, thought he was drinking plain milk. It is almost as if, children themselves are heaving off a final sigh, through such drastic actions resulting in their deaths. Like they have had enough, and just want to be left alone. I empathise with their unspoken words.

I was miserable for the past few days. People who were at the bottom of the class, are now earning 6 and 7 figure salaries. Everybody has cruised ahead to make their mark in life, and what have I done? Nothing much really. I am probably at the same position I was 2 years back before I got married. Advice is really nice to hear when you are feeling happy and on top of the world, and it really stings to try and follow it when you are feeling low. I try to remember what dad always said- the grass is greener on the other side. I felt so ashamed. Here I was, doing to myself what the world does to everybody else. Being judgemental. Measuring my worth, my talents, capabilities and everything that is essentially me, in figures. I know that if I want it bad enough, I can still make it to CEO before I become a decrepit hag. Its bad enough when the world judges you from the stands, but let me tell you its worse when you do it to yourself.

Love yourself first, before anybody else. And parents. Love your children enough to let them make it on their own, instead of pushing them to live your unfulfilled dreams.

10 Things I did lately

1.Invited 3 mothers and 3 kids I have never seen before to my baby's first birthday party. No, they werent picked off the street or something; they happen to live in the same condo as me, just that I havent seen them before !

2. Made chicken biryani- the biryani was a treat to the tastebuds and successfully finished up half of it myself.

3. Went to a book sale and picked up 5 more books to read sometime in this lifetime. Yes motherhood slowly strangles even good hobbies.

4. Wrote another comeback poem for the darc website, which was nicely received and promptly havent penned anythig after that.

5. Taught my baby boy how to walk. Now, he does it on his own. Ape teaches younger ape.

6. Wrote a story for a children's website which will be made into an animated cartoon for kids.

7. Started waking up at 7:00 am again, irrespective of whether I slept the earlier night or not. Had forgotten what the sky past sunrise looked like.

8. Called up my grandma, and spoke to her for 2 mins flat. Which is a huge feat in itself.

9. Signed up for twitter and then decided that it was a huge waste of thought space.

10. Applied to around 50 freelance writing projects of which two have promptly replied back. To tell me that I do not fit their current requirements.

In the last 3 months....

Why is time flying faster than usual, I wonder. Looking at my last post, its hard for me to believe that the last time I wrote anything on my blog was in Jan. Exactly three months later, I am here once again to post something trivial, but new. A lot happened in the last few weeks. I made a long trip to India. My child's baptism FINALLY happened, although personally the ceremony was more of a joke, considering that only 15 people turned up. Very good number if you consider that only 17 were invited in the first place. And like almost every important ceremony, there was a huge confusion about who should be the godfather of the child. The priest kept reassuring us- It is the RIOT of the boy's father's father to be the godfather.

I stayed away from writing any poems for so long. And suddenly I worry that if I try to write a poem now, it just wont happen. Two birthday cakes from my fav cake shop in cochin turned up at home. Needless to say, I did more than full justice to them. Mom turned 49. The only reason why am writing that is because she has a phobia of turning 50, and I have a phobia of turning 30. NOT that I am 29 as yet. Am only GOING to turn 27 this sep. But since anxiety is a part of me, am worrying right now itself.

My baby boy is growing up so fast. Next month he turns a whole 1 year old. Where did time go? It feel slike, just yesterday I was on the operation table, half doped out, and lost in another world. Just yesterday that I held him for the first time and thinking how fragile he was, when both his parents are such huge sizes ( in my mother in law's words). Today, he can stand by himself, and is a chatterbox just like me. Of late, he loves being chased around the house by me, while his dad carries him. He knows how to get his way around me. One sad look of his and I melt faster than an ice cream. I really think that parents in a way are their children's slaves. He even has two little teeth which show every time he smiles. Truth be told, I am so fascinated by this little guy, right from the twinkle in his eye, to the way he cuddles upto me at night for warmth. I think of all the roles, I have played in life, motherhood rules.

Of course, on the other hand I am left behind, seeing one classmate after another climb managerial positions, while I am now a housewife. I hate that term. I think its got to do with the prejudice that people have about being a housewife, like oh she couldnt get a job, wasnt good enough, or oh she cooks and cleans and does nothing else. Content writing doesnt count as a job. People just politely nod when I say I am a writer. I guess to most, a writer means a person with untidy hair. a leaking pen, and a waste basket full of crumpled up paper. I want to stand up and say that yes sir, I cook and clean, and doing so was my choice. Simply because I cant bear the thought of a stranger raising my kid. And if I have lost out on a fatter bank account because of that decision, then by God, so be it. Someday when my baby boy grows up to be a fine young man, I know I will smile and be proud. Both of myself and him.

ON GRANDPA

I never thought my mom's father would feature in a blog post like this. Then again, like all hopeless realists, I took it for granted that he would be there forever and never die. Reality, who loves hitting me full blow in the face, slapped me hard- my grandpa died on Jan 11, 2009. And I had spoken to him just a day before. Although his speech slurred, his never say die attitude shone through- "I am fit and fine. and they arent letting me leave the hospital. I want to go home'. In the end, he did, except that home was now in the sky.

I didnt want to go for the funeral, and yet I did. I recommend going to funerals. Reality shakes you up well and good when you see a dead body, and that I believe is the first step to getting over the loss. Also, you realise all the good things that you still have. Thirdly, when you see the number of people who turn up to mourn a good man, it makes you want to lead a good life too.

I wasnt actually close to my grandpa, in the sense I didnt go running to tell him all about each event in my life, but he is the one grandparent who I have been around the longest. We had our moments together- like him picking me up from school and both of us having lunch together; being gifted a children's bible story book as a prize for a speech contest, my piggy banks were gifts from him, he always generously donated in coins and later cash, he gifted me a stuffed scottish terrier, I ended up watching cricket matches with him even thought I didnt really want to, I loved to see him potter around with his car, his table was always full of little knick knacks, he always remembered I loved chicken and food on the whole, he wore the few shirts and t shirts I gave him with utmost pride, and he always sounded so cheerful on the phone even when he didnt feel like it. I miss hearing his liners like- "you clot." "I am fit. Why whats wrong with me. You want me to drive the car and show you?" 'Walk straight. Chin out'. "Hi sanu. How are you, thanks for calling'.

Sometimes, you are closer to people than you are aware. I think the same is true of Big daddy and me. He was a short man, just 5 feet something tall, but he was a big man in every way- love wise, generousity wise, kindness wise and he had a big heart. He is more deeply embedded in my memory than even I know which is why I broke down while saying my tribute to him at the funeral. The little bad man, waving at me and giving me a hug that only his little frail body could give. Thats the way I am always going to remember him. Love you Bigdaddy.