The Past Few Weeks - Student Politics
We have reached 12th grade, and the prefects have already been declared. A couple of students have been disappointed, but on the whole I feel it has been taken well.
According to me, the teachers have reached a very fair and just decision regarding the choice of prefects. They haven't been to generous, nor too stingy. However, they certainly do know how to build the tension - do not declare the 'Head-Boy' and the 'House Captains'.
Discerningly, a few of the students who will not get a badge have changed the attitude completely. An indifferent and conceited attitude has swept over them which is precisely why they don't deserve the badge. However, I do feel sorry for the 'lights-handler or Dinesh's replacement', who has really taken it well, even after some extreme initial frustration. He is now trying to show why he deserves the badge - props to him.
Who is headboy? Eventhough I am considered to be in the running for that coveted honour by a few people, I would quite frankly count myself out of the competition. Whether I feel I deserve it, is only for me to ponder upon and only for me to conclude - or rather, it doesn't matter. To an extent, it's all about what impression you give because it's nearly impossible for a teacher to know every student inside out and extremely fairly come to a decision. Moreover, it is near impossible to be liked by every single teacher because for that we need to take into consideration both the teacher's and the student's attitude, not only the student's.
It's 'near' impossible, because 1 person has sort off pulled it off - and he is a part of the potential 'wonder couple' - if you know what I mean. It's not necessarily good - but hats off to him - because it is difficult. My money is on him - or rather I am pretty confident about it. Or you never know, the talented Mr Verbose from Orion House may be the surprise package.
I have to admit that the prospect of being head-boy did fill me up with a little hope and tension, but now I can almost say - the school-prefect-headboy tension is over. Sometimes irritation and frustration did make me unstable, for I felt I did give a lot to this school. But now, honestly, it doesn't matter. All that matters of my experiences in school is how much I have learnt from them, and unpomphously - that's a lot.
In true essence, it doesn't matter what I become (as in, in school), because it will not stop me from what I aspire to do in school. And for that matter, it shouldn't matter to anyone what they become - as long as they know who they are and what they want to do.
Please feel to comment or confront me with your views.
The Past Few Weeks - Romance :P
However cliched and lame 'Romance' sounds, the past few weeks have had the scent of love, or to put it more prematurely - new bonds, which hopefully will mature into something more enduring.
- "You're-fat-you-suck" sayer and the gorgeous singer.
- Shyaaaat-up and nickcy.
- My best bald friend and 'my-miss-Bengali'-name-sounds-like person.
- The potential wonder couple - 'potential' because of the fact that they are not yet together, but it's coming soon...hopefully.
Read between the lines. Most of you won't get every connotation, but let's see how many you do get.
I wanted to start up with something positive - so I chose 'romance' because there is nothing like seeing my friends really happy. Now, it's my favourite guitarist's turn. :)
I am truly happy for every single couple mentioned above and let's hope that your relationships are prosperous, enjoyable and passionate - not constrained.
Read On - and Comment On - Let's see your almost-riddle-solving capacity.
The Past Few Weeks...
Am I blogstipated? No. It's just that the past few weeks have been so eventful and ambivalent, that they have occupied most of my time. Any spare time I had went in prudent thinking and character analysis. Yeah, that does sound weird, but still. Anyway 'being busy' should never be an excuse.
Politics, misconceptions, brilliance, carelessness, emotional breakdowns, new apparent 'love' or 'going-to-be love' bonds, fights, smashed hopes, new discoveries and life's biggest lesson - the past few weeks have had everything. From school to family, my life (however self cenetered it sounds) has had highs and lows, more of the latter, in these past tension filled days. It's not over yet, but boy I can't wait!
Sa Re Ga Ma Pa! sponsored by LULU Hypermarket
24th March, 2006 - the day when I got 2 free tickets for the live recording of Sa Re Ga Ma Pa, the Indian singing competition show played on Zee TV, the day where the true colours of typical Indians once again flashed on my face and also the day when I ate KFC for the first time in over a year. I took Romit along with me, because he was my closest friend who knew atleast something about Sa Re Ga Ma Pa.
Okay - you know how much I despise Indian Television, so I need to clearify why I went - I went because I was curious to know what happened behind the scenes. As in the 'Talias', the outakes and the ever prominent mistakes. Basically I took it as a learning curve, but it was more of farce, quite honestly.
Poor organisation, poor performances and extremely extremely irritating audience which, unfortunately Romit and I were a part of, but please note that we were not even close to the major contributors of irritation.
Firstly, inspite of having Very Very Important Person (VVIP) tickets, we were seated in the row furthest away from the stage, an area which didn't even come close to making the television frame. Later, when we did make it to the front, we were not too surprised to see people with the passes for the wrong day in the front row, after all it was an event organised by us Indians.
After every imaginary commercial break, Shaan started the program with a rather animated 'Sa Re Ga Ma Pa- Middle East Ka Mukabla, sponsered by Lulu Hypermarket' - as if we, and the eventual television viewers, were retarded. You know what, maybe we were, because our retard-ness was emphasized when a few of us joined him in a truly 'wonderful' chorus. However this intro had more energy than all the participants combined - so that's good in way, isn't it?
I completely agree with Romit who said that the eventual dull and uninteresting winner will only end up as a back-up singer, for some sidey melodramatic hindi soap opera. All of them lacked, completely lacked star quality. They were like boiled eggs who couldn't move and who didn't even know the words to the songs they sung. One of the participants sung one of his songs twice because 'he forgot the words'. And guess what, this 'forgot-the-song-words' guy was the evetual winner. Uptill now, it was all a drag. After the intial fascination, all that followed was sheer boredom and apathy. Only one of the performers, Paresh, was decent. He was the crowd favourite. But, guess what, he did not win. The words-forgetter won. It was at this moment that things got exciting. The crowd was up in rebellion. The uncles, and aunties and Ali's Bhainji's all stood up and started screaming and taunting the TV producers - 'give this man chance one more!' And instead of ignorance, Ismailji, the gangster looking, bearded, long haired 'music' director, added coal to the fire and confronted the audience. At this point it got hilarious. Only after Paresh played the good boy and accepted his defeat did the crowd quieten. That was the end of the semi-finals.
The producers tried to get some order in the auditorium, and asked all the NON VVIP people to vacate the front row seats. Obviously this didn't happen. The co-ordinator then announced that saving seats was not allowed. But, he forgot that he was speaking to Indians. So instead of the stopage of this practise, the ambivalent public thought that this obviously meant that more seats needed to be saved. That was the explanation to the scattered empty seats in a supposed full auditorium.
From the last row, we tried to get into the first few rows. This was a difficult process, as more and more people were trying to get into the already front Sheikh Rashid auditorium. We, well we wanted to be on TV, and we were considerably large so we made into the first section. There were 4 empty seats next to us, so a man innocently came and sat there. A couple of minutes later, uncleji and auntyji came and told him to get up from their seats. They were like these are our seats, we were sitting on them earlier. The young man didn't know what to say. Then uncleji was like, 'Leave these people alone, they don't understand manners'. Hello, freak! Uncleji, don't you get it! Saving seats is not allowed, hell you had not even saved them. Don't you dare go on about morals and manners - people - ahh!
The supposed 15 minute break between the semi-finals and the finals strected to about 3 hours, which is not that bad, considering Indian standards. We obviously didn't wait. But my parents, who had also come along, were also there and they waited.
The canteen had its own story. It had some food, so there has to be some chaos. And there was, people were fighting for food, which did not look too good, as if they had never seen anything like it. Pushing, throwing and yelling for a useless burger and a Pepsi gave me a picture of savages fighting for food to survive.
We exited, and advised a few people outside, that it was not worth it. We then walked to KFC in Khao Gully, and I relished my first scrumptious leg piece. The genius combination of deliciously fried skin and well marinated meat, provided saliva for my mouth, that made me consume every bite like it was the last.
A profoundly deep and interesting conversation with Romit and his company was the only useful thing that illustrious day. My belief of the deficiency and discrepancy of Indian Television was further amplified. It was a memorable and learning experience - how not to be and how not to produce a television show.
Kishanji, Namaste
The above tiny man, with the mike in his hand and the camera next to him, certainly seems out of place. But guess what, they will soon say that he is the 'Speilberg' of Bollywood. This new director, has so much potential, it's unbelievable. Well, after all he is only 10 years old.
Yes, Kishan Shrikanth is only ten years old and his first film is due to be released this April. Though it looks ridiculous, this kid is a supposed 'genius'. Having acted in 1000 Kannada Soap Opera episode, and 24 regional films, this experienced kid does indeed show a lot of promise.
Kishan's first venture is going to be a Kannada film, C/O Footpath, and guess what, he has co-written it too.
But, as usual I am going to be critical. 10 years old, he has made a career in acting, why the hell does he want to start directing? And who in the right mind would invest 8 million rupees on him? According to me it's a publicity stunt. It has everything that media wants, youth, weirdness and intrigue. The only thing it doesn't have is sex-appeal. Hey but wait, Hollywood might be inspired by this and Paris Hilton might be paid to direct. And hell she does have it all.
Anyway, even BBC has been seduced by this stunt. It is definitely smart, but how long is it going to last. This BBC article about Kishanji is worth reading. I bet the producers, and the master-minds behind this are praying that their 8 million rupees is worth.
Dubai Desert Rock 06 Rocked!
Friday, 16th March, 2006. We lined up at 11:30 am, four and a half hours before the actual start of this 'mega' event. And deservingly got to be in the first row, yes the first damn row! As we were not real hardcore heavy metal rockers, we did frustrate a lot of long-haired men, who especially attacked Ali because he sported a 'Metallica' t-shirt in a 'Megadeth' concert, and that is quite daring, because Metallica and Megadeth don't really get along. Actually they kinda hate each other. Anyway that's Ali for you.
The first few minutes made us feel like we were in Hollywood - hundreds (ok not really, maybe like 5 or 6) of cameras flashed upon our faces, and we all gave poses and 'horn-fingers' and 'rocker-like' expressions (please see above). We were probably the gayest rockers there - but we bloody well enjoyed. As Ali says (who wore a 'Metallica' t-shirt, shorts, socks and floaters), 'It's all about the music, you need to feel it...' and bla. Anyway, our gay apparel was not so bad as we made it into quite a few papers such as the Emirates Evening Post, and City Times.
After the 'red-carpet' experience, the extravaganza finally started with 'Mannikind' - a local band. They weren't bad, but the lead singer was hilarious. He was considerably stout, and was jumping and head-banging like a freak, not to say he was only 17. For those 'Modernite's' who cannot imagine, picture Manish (no offense dude, you rock), with longish braided hair, jumping all over, and moving his head in an up-down motion, and screaming into the microphone. Scary, huh?
Then came 'Testament'. They were ordinary, not that good. We did not know their music, and maybe that's why they were not so exciting. But from experience (as in watching Sepultura last year), I can say that they were quite dry, but we were in the first row, so it was still fun! This concert was characterized, by this Iranian dude's white nose hair and constant stabbing motions. In his pursuit to push us away, and get into the first row, he gave us both entertainment and pain. He desperately tried to get between Ali and me, and guess what, he did eventually succeed, but that was only after giving us outrageous laughter and a view of his white nose hair. As expected, Ali was first to notice this. Anyway, this dude did not know proper english and did the following things:
1. He screamed(literally - those horse screams, like the one's of Brad Pitt in Troy when he's killing someone) for no apparent reason.
2. He showed the finger to everyone around for no apparent reason.
3. He shook his head so vigorously, that we thought it might come out.
4. He tried to hit on some school girl, by constantly giving her his hand and trying to let her come next to him in the first row, but I obviously didnot allow that.
5. He was not that bad though, because he made friends with security people in front of us and gave us free water.
The next band was Reel Big Fish. They played ska-rock. They were funky and hilarious. Great performers, who won the love of Harry. The band was basically a mix of hard rock, and trumpets and trampones. So it was quite different and fun.
Enter Tejas' 3 Doors Down. The most 'poppy' of the bands, they were the one's we wanted to watch the most, but they were the one's that nun of the heavy metal hard core rockers wanted to watch, who couldn't wait for Megadeth. They behaved like such losers, because they kept booing them and constantly chanted 'Megadeth'. They compared them to the 'Backstreet Boys' - and that was weird. And when the lead singer came into the crowd, these same rockers were like, 'I love you' and felt him up. Such hypocrites, and as Romit would say, 'Losers, man'. Anyway, Tejas knew every single word of every song they played, and as we were all in the front row, the lead singer Brad Arnolds obviously noticed, and thus began the great love story. Tejas' Brad almost came into the crowd and almost jumped on Tejas - literally. He shook his hand and then made continuous eye contact. At one point he also gave him the fingers, as in the horn fingers. It was then the turn of Tejas to go insane. Love must be reciprocated, so his constant 'Oh-My-God's and groans and wows must have made Brad proud. Anyway, Brad certainly made Tejas' day, and he certainly made ****** jealous (I don't think I am allowed to mention the name). Personally I enjoyed 3 Doors Down the most, because I knew some of their music, and generally prefer their sort of music to heavy, heavy-metal.
Then the main event - Megadeth - were okay. We took a step back to save ourselves, and save Tejas who would have definitely been squashed by the 'metal-hungry' rockers, who were basically drunk and insane. Ali enjoyed, and more importantly survived Megadeth because he fought like a brave soul and stayed in front. Where as the rest of us found them to be average, I actually fell asleep at one point. But that was maybe because I was too tired.
All in all, it was an extremely memorable day, and a day I will not easily forget... (add all other cliches please)
I feel concerts are the epitomes of entertainment. The amount of joy and pure energy that a good band can give off is amazing. This only refers to popular good bands, and not any other side show. So what I basically want to say is, see as many concerts as you can - because they are loads of fun and great memories.
Rock on!