I looked at myself, again for the zillionth time, in my mirror. Been doing it for 23 years. My face looks the same, a little different over the years. I know of this fact only bcos I have pictures of myself to substantiate this fact. Beauty seems to play hide and seek. Sometimes with thoughts, sometimes with my mind. Sometimes through magazines, sometimes through wise talk. Sometimes, through the mirror. Happiness, her friend and confidante, does the same to me. Too much of play and my mirror has cracked. Is it unlucky? I laugh, well it’s been 16 days and I’m the way I used to be, always the same since 23 years. For that matter, I even travelled Bangalore on the same day and I had a ball.
I look for??? I want??? I’m drifting from my ground. Need a breather. The heights rare are dizzying me out. The levels of unknown moments tick me off. I'd there a world I belong to? I need to be there soon. This place is scary. I’ve stayed long enough and know nothing. Isn’t that supposed to be scary? I’ve lost myself in the process. I wait for that cracked mirror to tell me a different story. But it doesn’t. It remains a cracked mirror only. So I’m sound, the mirror is well-behaved, which brings me to think, people are liars. Or simply, idiots. Then whom do I listen to? I am lost, they are idiots and my search is killing me, the rest of me. The confines of my abode snuggle my thoughts.
I feel like an embryo in my mother's womb- safe, reassured and happy. I walk towards my broken mirror. Pieces of reflection glare at me. Distorted, but its all part of beautiful me. The corners of my mouth, find a smile, a rare moment these days.
In my cracked mirror, I find my answers. The lines are showing on my face, clearer. Pictures need not be taken as proof of my life lived. I see the picture clearly. Expecting a future of answers is a journey made in waste. What options does a hopeless soul have? None, through the mist, you make your way. Ask no questions, seek no answers. Cause life is not what we were meant to live. It’s not permanent. Does an ephemeral existence have any answers? Its life beyond death, that’s permanent. Known otherwise as eternal life, all unanswered questions vanish. After all, birth is only the beginning of death.
When Steven Tyler yelled, "howya doin' Mumbai?", I was der....in BANGALORE
Thunderous applauses,flashing snapshots of the band whilst the picking rhythm of bass n drums...smoke, flashlights and Voila! the sweet smell of sex,drugs n rock n' roll....n im wid me,myself n AEROSMITH....
You never reason out why you spent nearly 6k, travelled for 22hrs by bus,get conned mercilessly by auto drivers, stand for 41/2hrs with an injured foot and knapsack, face your fear of heights, literally while flying by a substandard airline that assures you nothing about safety,let alone yr fucking fear and all that for a 60-year-old rocker…that too all alone.yes all by myself.
Haha…well not really, I did travel all the way to b’lore for the aerosmith concert with a bunch of absolute strangers. After a grueling sick journey of 22 hrs odd and with the magic of 2 tabs of avomin(I suffer frm terrible motion sickness), I finally reached the IT city.
OOPs moments
For my FIRST concert, this was the best unforgettable experience not only bcos of the legendary steven or the sexy Joe fuckin Perry, but becos of the few funny instances that occurred for the most rockin event of the year…the first to hit the list is when steve actually addressed BANGALORE AS MUMBAI.
STEVE: Hey India, We Love You
FANS: HEYYYYYY(BLURRR IT)
STEVE: "Howya Doin' Mumbai?",
FANS: not a yell, not silence…jus a weird murmur
Some guy frm the crowd actually screamt, “sutta kar ke aya hain kya?”hehehehe…yea baby I gues the trippin was full on…
The next to top it all was a statue of the lord ganesha besides the drummer Brad Whitford…what in the world was that supposed to mean? Lol I dunno what image India holds for the rest of the world but for a hard core rocker also known as ‘The Demon Of Screamin’, the presence of a god was an absolute antithesis to whatever….again a spontanesous voice yelled, “Saala benchoth, Mumbai main hota toh B**l*s*h*b uski band baja deta..”lol….
And finally you don address in Hindi to yr b’lore fans, taken for granted that fans from Mumbai care four fucks for who says what except that music is their sole religion. To which a stoned fan replied, “Fucker I paid to hear you rock, not speak in Hindi.”
The experienceAll in all hats off the Aerosmith’s magical stage presence. It simply is amazing…I was alone yet nt alone…but when throngs of fans hold that one moment in their hearts that take care of all their memories ever created with their songs and couple this with the band’s passion and presence…it defines a magical moment that keeps you enthralled n in one, as part of a something bigger than life. Every fan is unique, majority of which know the birth and life history of their mentors. I know nothing abt the band besides their names. But what I do know is what the band gave to me when I needed the most,that connection to all yr life’s graph lines. The amount of times I hv connected with their songs and the kind of special connections that I hv shared with frnds is something you cant explain,like any beautiful experience. Crooning away to the lyrics of every single number and with every single thought of all my friends bk in Mumbai,times spent with them and moments that you live each time the songs play by….yes I lived a lifetime experience with the most closest band of my adolescent days.
Me, Myself and Irene
And why I did what I did? I love music and am a fan of several groups but as I was crooning my way thru the concert I realised the Aerosmith fan in me. Actually speakin, the whole experience sunk into me not when I was a teenager or whjen I purchased the tiks or even when I was screamin amongst the hundreds of fans but when I was flyin back. For a girl like me who doesn’t even use the office elevator to the sixth flr jus bcz I suffer frm motion sickness, to travel in an aircraft whr I sat all alone, bracing my fears made me realise the fan in me. I reached Mumbai and the faces of my parents were that of the actor Utpal Dutt;a constant expression of disgust and disbelief that their daughter took off impromptu all by herself to a new city, who has given an exceptional definition on “How to get broke in no time for a 60-yr-old.”
I guess for me it was my tribute to the group that made my life so simple and unforgettable. And it was just the rock n’roll for me, no sex,no drugs. (Well what the hell do you expect? I was “alone”)
