Even though I didn’t grow up listening to Michael Jackson, something snapped when I heard that he has passed away. The media frenzy over his death was quite expected. But all those heart-wrenching statements, teary appearances and effusive blogs seemed so fake.
I didn’t grow up listening to his music. I think he was a craze in 80’s (before that, I wouldn’t know)…One summer afternoon, I caught Anand grooving to MJ’s hits and that was how I was introduced to MJ. Needless to say, Anand was the butt of all the jokes for the next few months. The closest I came to listening to his music was just then, when I hid behind a table to bathe in the brilliance of two-left-feet disorder my brother suffered from. The performance would go on but for my loud uncontrollable guffaws. I snatched the cassette cover from him and was greeted by MJ’s black leotard avatar. He seemed like an alien, with his face covered with a curly mop of hair, and his skin ghostly white, accentuated by the psychedelics. I could almost picturize him in front of me. It was nothing like what I’d seen before. He seemed like a spirit in the human form.
I followed his story in the past few months. I couldn’t help it coz it was splashed all over, even in the Indian media. Wouldn’t like to imagine what it would be in the thick of it. Unbelievable. Would you like to read about your life expectancy in the papers? Daily speculations about how long you are gonna live with the morning coffee…there wasn’t even the faintest trace of concern or sincerity. It was almost as if these vultures were waiting for his death so they could collect their bytes and bask in the glory of their 4” wide columns.
And then you catch the same bunch of guys mourning as if they’ve lost someone dear. Assholes…Gimme a fucking break!