Hindu Heritage-ness
One of the first things I did on entering the US of A was the last thing I thought I would ever do – semi-attend a Hindu Heritage Camp. Initially I was quite bamboozled by the fact that Bloomington, Illinois, USA actually had a full out, fully Indian, hard core Hinduism camp. Organized by the HSS, the Hindu Heritage Camp aims to inculcate moral Indian values and the Hindu culture among the detached Indian American children, hoping to build bridges and bring them closer to their roots; by holding a 7 day overnight camp [for the older ones] and a 4 day overnight camp [for the younger ones], without sacrificing the concept of “fun” that every camp should ideally bring. Okay, that was the formal bit that I had to include. Anyway, these camps are held all over the US, so if you ever feel that you want to be a devout Hindu, but stay modern at the same time, just fly up to the US of A. Okay, enough advertising.
My cousin was attending the camp, and as I happened to be there at the same time, I was told to come along and see what it was all about. Still shocked with the fact that it was a Hindu camp, I didn’t know what to expect. Lots of Sadhu’s dressed in their yellow clothes-like stuff? Kids with their heads shaved off, besides the small pony tail they adorn that we all somehow mystically relate too? Cow worshipping? 100% strictly pure vegetarian food? 3’o clock rise and shines followed by Bhajan hymning? My uncle and aunty said: Anish, just come along.
On the first day, I was decently tired – I still obviously hadn’t fully recovered from the jet-lag, how much ever I would love to boast that I did and that I am too cool. So my first visit went in observation, and I thanked the mightiest form of the Hindu God for not making the camp overly serious. It was nowhere close to being extreme, but rather was a brilliant balance of fun and the Hinduism stuff. I was pleasantly surprised [yeah I know that sounds British] by how much the kids wanted to be there, and genuinely enjoyed the camp – my cousin has since been reading comics, Ramayan comics. The lunch and dinner was 100% pure vegetarian but was not always Indian food. It was multi-cultural: Mexican [Tacos], Italian [Lasagne] and Indian. I guess Hinduism also preached multi-culture-ism.
After the observation day, I somehow got myself entangled in semi-attending the next day, as a proper student. My uncle laughed when I politely, but reluctantly said yes to the ordeal. But then I thought about my whole “experience” philosophy, and how this would expose me to the Indian American culture, and how it would also bring along a little bit of Hindu enlightenment that I think I require, and converted the pessimism into semi-optimism. So the next morning, I got up at 5:30 AM and my uncle dropped me off to the camp where I started the day with a yoga session. I hadn’t warmed up and was stiff all over, so ended up straining my back, and internally I yelped in pain. Anyway it wasn’t that bad and I later ridiculed my internal-melo-dramatics. The physical conditioning followed the Yoga session. The children learnt Hindu martial arts, “Dandh” [fighting with a stick] and Hindu games. As I was new, I just got a lesson on the basics of using the “Dandh”. Fascinating. We then played games, Hindu games: stuff like “Vish Amrut” and “Kho Kho”. This rekindled my days in Aurangabad [a city next to Mumbai] where I played such games with my long lost friends – Sai! Vishal! Vaibhav! Those were the days [not a disturbed childhood Ali]!
It was then the turn of a preachy and boring lecture, in which half the class slept or got lost in his or her own worlds. After the boring lecture that preached about the basic concepts of “Adharma” and “Dharma” [i.e Bad and Good], it was time for musical instruments. Most students were into the percussions bit, and I was amused to see a Hindu form of written percussion beats. Fascinating. I didn’t contribute much; just continued to observe. Lunch followed [Tacos] and a sleeping or “relaxing” session followed the lunch. The yoga teacher quite literally made everyone fall asleep. I didn’t sleep because I thought I wasn’t supposed to. When the Yoga teacher asked us to get up, only 3 out of 20 people got up, and rest snored away. Bloody fascinating.
It was then time for me to escape and go play a cricket match for my Uncle’s team. To cut it short, it was no heroic day for me. We lost and I scored a golden duck. Slightly depressed, I returned back to the camp, and witnessed the “Talent” show. Yes it did showcase glimpses of talent, but was poorly organized [sound issues]. But all that did not matter, as everyone had fun, and the mums and dads loved seeing their children do crazy stuff. Oh I had to mention, one of the performances was a Hindu Bhajan rap accompanied by percussion; which was quite funked out and did not give anyone the slightest thought of it being a mockery, thank the mightiest form of the Hindu God again.
Now, this post is getting way too long, so it doesn’t really matter what I write, because most of you will most probably not reach this bit. But I still have to conclude this Mightiest-form-of-the-Hindu-God darn experience. It was fun and mighty fascinating. My first experience with American brewed Indian students and kids was pleasantly pleasant. I am still shocked at witnessing such an ardently preachy religious camp in the middle of the US of A. And guess what, it’s been on for 20 years. Something like this can never happen in Dubai. The power of democracy, I say.
P.S. I too don’t like long posts because they are too long and get draggy, and I therefore apologize for being a hypocrite. But somehow, for some reason I just felt like writing this, so deal with it.
End Of An Era: Epilogue
Just when I thought nothing more could happen in the “wonderful” city of Dubai before I leave, a few Eastern people entered the fray and enthralled us. Ali, Tejas and Romit dropped me off at the airport [I feel the love guys], and Omar and NC just happened to be there too. Checked in, relaxed, I came out to say my final goodbyes. But before that there has to be a conversational, “hearty” build up you know. So we were talking about how these guys had done haram things before coming to the airport, and we just happened to be a little loud. An Eastern, Kazakhstani-type [not Filipino] couple got a bit annoyed. So the woman of the two, who obviously thought she was the hottest damn queen in the world, snapped at us rather impolitely: Could you please shut up? Now a weird ascent, and a high pitched high volume statement like that cannot be taken lightly, and thus, Omar semi-flipped. He snapped back [more politely than her] telling her that she could have been more polite. But then her ego came sliding in, and she retorted. We retorted too. She then randomly told us to go to the Indian Airport and talk loudly there. I think she was trying to insult us by making a racist comment. You pay for the tickets loser! But then she became more direct. She started yelling, and told us to “shut up our mouse” and go to “India/Pakistan” which she claimed to be the same things. She then called us all one “Indian Animal”. We on the other hand were not quiet, but we dared not to enter racist territory. We laughed at how angry those Eastern-asses were getting, and then we laughed more even more because they got even more annoyed with our mockingly “loud” laughter. Amidst all this laughter we did spray a few “Indian” insults [she was really asking for it]. Then her husband/friend/[really want to but will not use the profane word that I have thought of so you can fill in the meanest thing that comes into your head about Eastern Uzbekistani-type people] joined in. “I will shut up your mouth,” he said, acting all protective and cool. But we laughed. After a decent number of exchanges we got bored, so we calmed things down and walked away. But I tell you, it was an enthralling experience.
Right now I am flying to Chicago in an American Airlines flight, a happy man. Everyone has those hopes of getting a decently attractive person of the opposite sex sitting next to him and her. Today I had no hopes because whenever I did have such illusionary hopes, it only led to disappointment. But today, right now, things are different. I am partially enjoying the company of a fairly attractive German girl. She is next to me looking at the screen, but she says her English is not that very good. But if she is reading this I am kind off screwed. Anyway we have both just dealt with farewells and annual separations so it’s all cool! =)
I will reach Chicago in exactly 2 hours and 2 minutes. I hope I don’t get too jet-lagged. 8 hours of flying time with crappy in-flight entertainment is not that fun.
P.S. The whole enthralling first bit is not intended to be racist in any way, and I don’t intened to hurt anyone’s sentiments except for that wonderfully awful Eastern couple that entertained us in the most insulting of ways.
Romit & Tejas – I saw ‘Lucky You’. Drew is a bore, but Poker is a total score!
End Of An Era
It’s 30 minutes before I leave, so this is going to be short. I just got off Facebook and MSN, after saying my e-goodbyes. I am still shaken by the “farewell” get together that took place at home. It started off normally; then slowly moved into gear. It then shifted to [in order] condoms and bananas [thanks Romit], pool, foosball, an unbelievably awesome gift, some Indian chat, truth and dare, stripping of my pants, some awesome Ishika-singing, ketchup massage by Ali on Romit’s head, Dad’s entry, Mum’s constant camera work, all the letters and finally, Ali’s “Never Say Goodbye”. Suddenly, it hit me. It hit me hard. It would probably never be the same again. Yes, we would see each other again and again, but time and distance are bitches. Yes, the “love” would be there, but our priorities will have changed – drastically. It would never be the same again - a temporary goodbye for sure, but a permanent end to a friggin’ era.
18 years and “era”? It almost doesn’t make sense. But together, we and alone, I have been through oh so much, done a billion things, had the loudest “output” laughs ever, fought like rabid dogs with egos clashing like Expelliarmus and Avada Kedavra, worked our butts of with Redial Entertainment without much compromise on fun, won the friggin’ Inter School Football Tournament against all odds, went to Burjuman and City Centre a record number of times, buried Romit in Jumeirah Beach, drifted away into another world at Poseidon’s Pier, given exams that we hated, seew my sister leave, seen my parents win the Best Parents In The Entire Universe Award, SFS-ed all year round, prepared for universities, dealt with separations, dropped Mcdonalds and the rest of the fast-food gang for a year, ate pizza, saw a bunch load of midnight premieres, grew our hair and shaved it off completely [Romit!], loved and hated school, loved and hated ourselves, but loved and loved each other. Always. This is my first ending. The final chapter of Part 1 of my life has concluded – time for Part 2.
Mum’s calling. She wants me rattle out the traditional Indian prayers, before heading out with my bags. My mouth smells a bit thanks to the garlic butter in the Shawarma I just had. Oh I am going to miss Shawarma. Tears wiped, goodbyes said [most], hugs hugged and bags packed – it’s Austin time.
P.S. Sonia, I told you I’d do my last entry whilst in Dubai. =)
Driving In Dubai: Beginners
Today, I failed my first road test. Damn.
I got up in the morning, nervous as hell about two things: (1) Getting a cab at 8:30AM and (2) Hoping to conquer the Dubai RTA Ultimate Road Test. Adding to the nervousness, I cut myself while shaving. “It’s not a sign Anish, chill.” I devoured my banana, drank my milk, packed my bag and went down to catch a cab. Nervous Issue (1) was no problem at all – I got a cab in about 3 minutes, brilliant. Now that’s a sign, definitely very much 100% so, right? Wrong, “I don’t believe in signs” – maybe I should.
It was Nervous Issue (2)’s turn. But what was haunting me, were the "signs". I met this long lost friend who I used to play football with 8 years at the Emirates Driving Centre Road Test Centre. It was his second test and it turned out to be second time lucky for he, or he was plainly just a good driver. He told me they make you drive for literally two minutes; one left turn, one right turn, a couple of lane changes, parking and you are done. “Do that properly, and you’re through.” He buoyed me up with hope, hope that was previously, mysteriously dim. What these driving instructors do is that they scare the living pants off you, and say that the “Shoorteh” will fail you at the smallest possible error. Doing this is good to an extent, but seriously, everyone is crapping in their pants during their driving test due to this injection of paranoia, and that makes it tougher to pass than it should. One activity at a time is seriously enough. Crap time is later.
Anyway, I made my way into the EDC Test Car with my “Shoorteh” and my three other fellow compatriots. They had been waiting for me; apparently I had not heard my name the first time. “Anis KisHOre Malbani” on a not-so-clear mike can be slightly confounding. So I was late - That’s Bad Sign #2. There was this Chinese (or Japanese, definitely NOT Filipino] guy, this South Indian guy and the Paksitani guy, in the car along with me. The Chinese guy was first and he drove well. But I thought, “Hah! I can do better than that!” Semi-over-confidence = Bad Sign #3. He did well, and he did eventually pass. Next on the wheel – Me. I got of to a decent start and shifted into the third gear with supreme confidence. Apparently a confident driver [not a semi-over-confident driver] is a good driver. I took a right and then a left with sublime ease. Time to change lanes – easy stuff. I changed lanes twice quite expertly showing perfection beyond my years. Lane changing 3 – I somehow, quite unfortunately, forgot to look in the side mirror, and there just happened to be a car coming by next to me. I went for the turn, with a crafty smile on my face, and then suddenly, the “Shoorteh’s” hand jut into my sight, and he handled the wheel, saving us from “serious danger”. He failed me on that: “5. Applicant causing a serious danger (hazard)”. All my hopes of conquering the accident-filled Dubai Roads crashed away. I had one chance before I left for the US of A, and I had mucked it up. With a heavy heart and a heavier bag, I got an empty cab quicker than I have ever before in my life. Obviously. Bloody signs!
The South Indian was an okay driver, but a little confused in the head. The Pakistani guy was pathetic. His car stopped in the middle of the road, and the poor bugger let his nervousness get the better of him. So fate or some other shit made one Chinese/Japanese guy euphoric, and three Sub-Continental guys miserable today. I called mum and told her the bad news and she laughed, not out of ridicule, but out of the sheer feeling that I was teasing her. She was like, “How can you fail Anish? Don’t kid me.” I am like I just did fail Maa! That didn’t help, but then that’s motherly love.
Dad called a few minutes later. I recited the story, and he was like you deserved it. Thanks Dad – like a true father. =) And then he dropped the bomb: “Anish I just met someone who could have helped you getting your license, like 5 minutes ago.” No bloody way. “Fate,” right? I guess but “I don’t believe in fate” – maybe I should. Ahh life! What's really annoying is that even though the UAE has such an intense driving program, where passing the Road Test is quite a task for people, there are still such rash drivers on the road, and the number of road accidents taking place in Dubai is nothing to be proud of either.
Anyway, on a more positive note, I don’t really need the license. I am leaving the country for good in 9 days. I might as well get my driving license in the US of A. But failure is in general pissing off, especially when the past two and a half months have gone in learning how to drive. So what was it exactly? I had 3 Bad Signs, and 2 Good Signs. Oh, so the Bad prevailed over the Good? Right.
P.S. Don’t get thrown away by the “perfection beyond my years” bit. I am not that great a driver, only average. The “perfection beyond my years” was to instill a little drama which is greatly inspired by JK Rowling’s writing style.
“Oh Harry!”
Right. So I saw Harry Potter 5, and no, I didn’t take a pencil and a notepad with me, but I didn’t love the movie either. It was a midnight-er, as in a midnight show, a-weird-Dubai-“premiere” type of thing. Anyway, Romit was really excited and was hitting falsettos quite often. Tejas was there and Ali wasn’t. 3 girls accompanied us – woohoo, yeah? But two were out of place and made the third feel out of place, so you do the math.
Anyway, the movie was okay-ish. The script was poor and Emma Watson cannot act. Nor can Danny-boy. So if your leads are messed up, it is, in no way, going to be a good movie. Emma is supposed to be hot, or well “cute” and supposedly “smart” in her role, but here she is more like a blond-ish bimbo saying some cheap, corny lines. Very disappointed, Emma tut tut. I think it’s high time you learn from Megan (Fox, you can’t-relate-to people). Yes Radcliffe was better than before, but if his previous exploits were rated Z, his current one would be given an F- : an improvement; but still crappy. Rupert Grint is the savior, or well would have been the savior if he had more lines. Crappy acting, marred with major plot holes and pure ignorance, Harry Potter fans should be quite disappointed.
On the positive side, I loved the camera-work, and the cinematography was quite brilliant. Obviously, it was nothing compared to Transformers, but the Voldemort v/s Dumbeldore was beautifully done; props to the director on that.
So I’d say, watch HP5. Hell, watch it in the theatres! Not because it’s great, but because it’s Harry Potter. It’ll help you make conversation, and also gives you a fun topic to blog on.
Yeah, recently, this blog is more of a movie-review website than anything else, and I apologize to those readers that have still remained faithful. It’s just that there is so much going on at present, that I cannot choose something concrete enough to blog on, as in without sounding too cheesy or too melodramatic in my posts. Movie reviews seem safe. Or I’m just being lazy. No no, I have too much to do!
I am going to try and get back to reading HP6 now. I have restarted that darned book to get into the whole “Potter Mania” again. It’s just that I have been faithful to Rowling, and want to finish the saga with as much enthusiasm as I read HP1, i.e. continue to be faithful [hint hint]. Also, it could also be that I have forgotten most of what happened in the 6th book, so I want to get a heads up before the 7th one arrives. But that’s similar to the whole getting into the “Potter Mania” bit, yeah? Damn. “Whatever”.
Till more personal posts.
P.S. At least this update was faster than the earlier one.
Transformation
Yes, I haven’t blogged in quite a while – a thousand apologies.
Yes, I said I would get back to you on the best-est film of the recent past “Transformers”, so here I am.
Yes, I have been a tad bit lazy with the blogging scene, and I am a little late with the “Transformers” review, but screw that.
Yes, here come a bunch load of “I”s.
I attended the midnight show at Al Ghurair with a few friends and Ali, the biggest Transformers fan ever [please contact me if you wish to contest that statement, seriously]. I made it a point to sit next to him to absorb all his enthusiasm and it paid of. I clapped for the movie, I clapped. It has been a while since I have really enjoyed enjoyed a movie, but “Transformers” changed all that. From the beginning to then end, you cannot take your eyes of the friggin’ screen. The movie draws you towards it like the legs of sexy lady. The humour, the direction, Megan Fox, the acting, the heart and the out-of-this-world cinematography will hit you so hard, that there is nothing else you can do but clap or stare in disbelief or stare in awe or act as if you have suddenly become the biggest “Transformers” fan in the world.
“Transformers” has set a new, as-tall-as-Burj-Dubai high standard of film-making; if not for film-making then definitely for special effects. The intricacy and the accuracy with which each frame is done is mind-blowing. 38 hours to do render each frame of CG – that itself says a ton. Hats off to Industrial Light & Magic for pulling off the near impossible. The way these Autobots and Decepticons transform is sublime. The sound effects and the animation is beautifully intertwined to pull off a magnificently pleasing look. How the bloody hell can you make robots lovable [besides cartoon/animation – that doesn’t count]?
The acting is decent too – Shia Labeouf, the lead guy, is funny and more importantly NOT annoying. The robot voiceovers are spot on and the evil, tiny spy Decepticon so cleverly crafted that I want to personally blow the beetles out of him. The only minor flaw that I can maybe point my dirty little finger on is the direction in some of the fight scenes. Mr Bay, a few long shots of these giant robots wouldn’t have done any harm.
A special paragraph must be devoted to Megan Fox. Megan Fox is pure hotness. Her heat blew the life out of me. She is beautiful and sexy. WOW! I would go watch the movie only for her! No seriously, Megan is the next, big thing. Okay well the next, petit, nice, hot, beautiful thing or woman to take Hollywood by storm. Screw Hollywood, the world! I can imagine Bin Ladin and crew enjoying her every move. Ahh Megan, if only every woman was like you. Piss off Ali.
However, everything wasn’t woo-hoo-haa-haa. The movie de-motivated me when it comes to film-making. It was so, so well made, as a film, that any budding film-maker would either be highly inspired or go how the hell can anyone pull that off? I am in the latter phase, maybe sometime later I’ll switch to the former. But for now, I really need to go watch this movie again, in the theatres, because it is a must.
P.S. Talking about “transformation”, life’s current transformation is finally sinking in. Shit. I will blog soon. Mother promise.
Also, Harry Potter 5 is next.
SHOOFTV Competition
We, as in Redial Entertainment, have entered an amateur film-making competition that is taking place in the U.A.E. To cut to the point, we have made it to the quarter-finals, and are two steps away from winning. Our progression depends on your voting, and therefore any support will be appreciated.
So if you like our videos, and you would like to vote for us, please vote for us in the following way(s):
[NOTE: Voting is possible only on TUESDAY, JUNE 19TH, 2007 FROM 12:00 AM TO 6:00 PM]
- Go to http://www.shooftv.com/sq11.aspx, see our video submission, follow instructions and VOTE!
- Follow instructions on this post which are the same ones as the ones on the official website. VOTE by:
- For UAE Residences: SMS “SHOOFER 11” to 4324. [It costs only 90 fils. Any contribution will be really appreciated!]
- For Internationals: SMS “SHOOFER 11” to +248980010.
Thank you for all your support guys, and I sincerely hope you will bless us with at least one vote!
P.S. Seriously, thank you for your support.
Fantasticated!
Okay, this time there was no crazy build-up and there were no freaky-fun occurrences before we entered Cinestar Cinema 01 to watch Fantastic Four 2 – Rise Of The Silver Surfer on the fate-less 15th night of June, apart from the race in which Tejas kicked our asses because he took a less crowded route. We had Rohit Kataky in our company, and his crazy-hippie appearance did turn a few heads towards us. We smuggled in some drinks that we had previously bought from Carrefour, and Romit was bamboozled when he found out that his 500 ml Coke was 2 dirhams compared to the 1 dirham that my 1500 ml Aquafina water cost. Also, Romit bought pop corn and almost missed the trailers – almost.
So basically, I am going to jump right into the “review”. Fantastical the Second is worth a watch! It’s much better than Spiderman 3 in the sense that it’s much shorter, more gripping, and more exciting. The action and the cinematography is as good as the Spidey flick if not better. Yes, there are a few corny dialogues, but it’s a superhero movie so that’s rather expected. The acting is okay. Jessica Alba is a Goddess dropped from the great heavens above. Truly, God bless you, and God, bless yourself too for creating Her. Also, the movie was genuinely funny at times. Silver Surfer is super-cool! Dr Von Doom is an idiot. The Human Torch kicks some real ass. Basically I really enjoyed it on the whole - a really good Superheroes flick to kick off the crazy block-buster-filled summer up ahead. Harry Potter 5, Transformers [ALI!], Shrek The Third, Ocean’s 13 and so on are all very exciting prospects.
Ooh, one to watch out for is Transformers. Apparently it won the most anticipated summer blockbuster MTV Movie Award over Fantastication, Harry Puther and the other rot. Apparently Michael Bay has cut out the corny-ness and made Transformers more real, shrewd, mature and hopefully cinematographically and brilliantly brilliant. I am looking forward to it, but I don’t think anyone is looking forward to it more than Ali Yar Khan is.
Okay, that was short and quick, so basically my ultimate message is: WATCH IT! And it’s a theatre movie so, WATCH IT IN THE THEATRES!
Till transformation!
P.S. Ali missed the Fantastic Four 2 experience. Idiot.
Constructiveness V/S Laziness
For the past few days, or rather weeks, or well months, okay, 2 ½ months – I have been busy. Not the “OMG-I-am-so-cool”-type busy, genuinely busy. Redial Entertainment is ruling my world, and so is salsa and so is the Nissan Sunny that I learn to drive every other morning. Also, obviously, I am not going to for any reason, sacrifice fun. So add that to the equation, and it becomes fun-busy.
However procrastination is a common practice, and when you have lots to do, it is not cool. Why? It adds to the tension, finally sums up to last minute hysteria and the school exam days come storming into your brain. So knowing all this, when you do procrastinate when you know you have work to do, off goes your head. You have this urge to be over-constructive, and do megatons of work. But at the same time you need your space, and you need time to just chill, because you are on a friggin’ “holiday”.
So, basically, in this battle of constructiveness and laziness, neither wins. What helps is a balance of both the extremes. Currently that’s what I am enjoying, and the feeling is brilliant. Life’s good. Besides getting my daily meals, I am also self-employed in a potentially prosperous business. The love-life is getting very interesting. University stuff is mostly sorted out, and the only headache that remains in the US Visa. Salsa is the best thing that has happened to me so far. I will soon be a licensed driver [hopefully]. Yeah, I could do with a little more exercise and a little more football, but I have July for that. Mum wants me to stop working and practice mind peace. July, Mum, JULY! Happy Father’s Day Dad!
P.S. I haven’t written for a long time and I apologize. But I had this urge to tread on philosophical grounds, so screw you if it’s too damn clichéd-ly emotionally philosophical for you!
Aerosmith Was AEROSMITH BABY!
We should have done as our tradition has always told us to do: We should have come a good 8 hours before the concert and created “the line” outside the venue, and made sure that we got ramp-standing space, right in the front. We should have over-enjoyed the freakiness and the sexual nature that Stevie Tyler brings along with his Aerosmith. We should have over-enjoyed Joe Perry smacking his guitar with his shirt, mocking the aspect that his guitar was on fire. Ali should have gotten Joe’s pick! But we didn’t follow tradition. Thanks to Modern High.
It’s almost a tradition. I NEED to blog about the concerts I attend. But this one is more about what happened before and after.
What a wonderful day it was going to be! Prize Day, and then Aero-friggin-Smith! The morning swept past by me digging myself into the most high-profile project that Redial Entertainment has ever received. I then got ready for the most prestigious, but boring day in the Modern High calendar: Prize Day. I tried my utmost best to fix my hair, and partially recover from the disastrous hair cut that I had had the day before. I was loving my hair till then - it was longish, but I couldn’t possibly have attended Prize Day with hair like that, I mean it would have been “such a sin”. I was reminded thrice to cut my hair, for this great, prestigious day. ONE day.
Anyway, this was the plan: Prize Day would finish at 7:30 PM, and the seven of us would immediately transport our battuties to the Aerosmith arena in two cars - simple and cool!
I entered school with my parents and my grandmother, and the first thing the Admin staff of our school did was blatantly disrespect and insult my parents. And something like that hurts, when you have given 9 years of faithful service to the school, and when you are also winning one of the most prestigious special awards of the school. Ahh, well, life! I was visibly disturbed by this, and exhaustion and work-stress made everything even worse - apologies to those who did see my reaction.
Anyway, the “plan” hadn’t even begun as yet, and things were not smooth. Then the “Prinicpal’s Address” kicked in and lasted an entire hour. It was 7:15 PM and Prize Day was no where close to getting over. When a gazillion little children had received their awards, and when the special awards were out of the way, the clock hit 8:30 PM. Brilliant. The after-Prize-Day celebrations/confusion when everyone greets everyone [aww, how sweet] and when the guys can officially mingle with the girls without too many eyebrows being raised. At 9:00 PM we found out that or other transportation wouldn’t be able to make it, and obviously we hadn’t left yet. So it left us with one small car, seven people and one hour to reach the concert in heavy truck-filled traffic.
Now 6 of the 7 people that were in the small car were in no way small. Tejas was the tiny one, so he got onto Ali’s comfortable lap, and Romit put me on his lap. And thus began the journey. Our joy was unprecedented, we fitted in! But then traffic hit us like a bolt from the blue. Ali hit depression, and I started panicking. We got frantic phone calls from friends already at the concert: Where the fuck are you guys? Sonu [he was spotting, as in spotlighting Stevie Tyler – WOW]!
The concert was supposed to begin at 10, and we reached there only at 10:15 PM. Shit. But Dubai has a habit of being late in general, so the concert began only at like 10:30. We had decent tickets, so we pushed our way into a decent spot, and enjoyed the concert. Cryin’ and Miss A Thing were brilliant! Dream On was also good, but could have been better. Stevie, the sexual beast that he is, was seemingly up to his best. Humping anything and everything he could, and screaming and dancing whenever he could, he is a true entertainer, and the soul of Aerosmith. And the funkiest thing about him is that he makes even the stupidest thing look cool. Now that’s talent. His voice is brilliant, and his vocal chords are clearly the strongest chords in the world. He screams like a banshee which only inspires the audience to try and do the same, and he does this without an after-damage to his voice. Yeah, he was entertaining. Joe Perry is a handsome man, but after what Ali said, it’s like he is trying too hard. Oh, and they had these fans on stage, blowing onto their faces, and blowing their long hair in an outward direction. Basically it made them look really cool. Amidst the craziness of Stevie, the concert did have a few lows. They didn’t play “Pink” nor did they play “Rag Doll” nor did they play “Janie’s Got A Gun”, so that left a few disappointed. It was friggin’ hot, but somehow I enjoyed sweating that day - it gives you the whole “wet”, you-are-enjoying-the-concert look.
The concert finished. More shit happened, and the highly eventful shitty-good day ended.
P.S. Contradictory emotions are bad because the good seems to fade away. At least it did on this day.