For two years, this bit of space in the chatotic world of the Web has served as my sanctuary. A place where I can just be and not be. What made it so was the fact that I had no need to paint face and color my thoughts and really not care who were visting these pages. Now that someone I know has barged in here and not just trampled on my words, they have also drawn a part of the street with them.
Alas, this is home no more. I will be looking for another spot where I can start over as a new being. Thanks for all those who visited and who knows, someday you might be blog surfing and you might just cross mine.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Thursday, January 7, 2010
All the Glitter and Fancy Gloves
Its been so long since I wrote anything in my blog. Somewhere last year I moved back to good old paper, but an anonymous comment here sort of triggered the itch to blog again.
Fame could be a fickle mistress, but for some she is always there at least garbed as notoriety. No one should have known this better than Michael Jackson. A hundred things were said about him and still are, but how much of these reflect the man himself? Strange that while you are alive people talk about your bad habit of picking your nose, but when you die, they talk about how good a human being you were. Jackson should be laughing at the irony of it from the Neverland he should be in now.
The moon walking singer was an icon for a whole generation of Indians. So many of us sang along with his when he sang, “They don’t really care about us” to drum beats. The whole country would have melted all its gold and beat a way to his door step if he had only asked. His charm was like a spell that even melted the saffron clad Bal Tacharey.
But lets shake off the glitter, and hang up the shoes. Remove those absurd gloves and scrap off the grafted skin; what will we find underneath?
Not that I was up close enough to know, and not that those up close managed to take that close a peek. But those songs that have been his making and breaking, life and soul should mean something right? Most even ignoring the words sounded rebellious, fresh, and sexy. Something like a teenager rebelling against being grounded. But some also spoke of a sensitivity and awareness so alien to most people. They served as the anthem for equality and a reminder for those lost in the mad rush of the world. But most of all they revealed a man lost in his image, looking for a place where he would truly belong in this world. I hope his fame and money or the obscene distortion of both, gave him the freedom to be just himself, however absurd it looked to the lesser mortals of the world.
Thanks to whatever angel above for sprinkling a little bit of fairy dust on the world once in a while. They did make MJ glitter.
Fame could be a fickle mistress, but for some she is always there at least garbed as notoriety. No one should have known this better than Michael Jackson. A hundred things were said about him and still are, but how much of these reflect the man himself? Strange that while you are alive people talk about your bad habit of picking your nose, but when you die, they talk about how good a human being you were. Jackson should be laughing at the irony of it from the Neverland he should be in now.
The moon walking singer was an icon for a whole generation of Indians. So many of us sang along with his when he sang, “They don’t really care about us” to drum beats. The whole country would have melted all its gold and beat a way to his door step if he had only asked. His charm was like a spell that even melted the saffron clad Bal Tacharey.
But lets shake off the glitter, and hang up the shoes. Remove those absurd gloves and scrap off the grafted skin; what will we find underneath?
Not that I was up close enough to know, and not that those up close managed to take that close a peek. But those songs that have been his making and breaking, life and soul should mean something right? Most even ignoring the words sounded rebellious, fresh, and sexy. Something like a teenager rebelling against being grounded. But some also spoke of a sensitivity and awareness so alien to most people. They served as the anthem for equality and a reminder for those lost in the mad rush of the world. But most of all they revealed a man lost in his image, looking for a place where he would truly belong in this world. I hope his fame and money or the obscene distortion of both, gave him the freedom to be just himself, however absurd it looked to the lesser mortals of the world.
Thanks to whatever angel above for sprinkling a little bit of fairy dust on the world once in a while. They did make MJ glitter.
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