Saturday, October 28, 2006

Change - the balm of the confused soul

It's happened at last. I've finally managed to get out of the hole I was building comfortably for myself in my last job and have found another - job that is. For long I had stood like Casabianca on the burning deck and watched the others flee all about me! Foolishly, like the above-named celebrity, I had convinced myself that I was doing something noble. "Stand your ground Prem," I told myself. "You're not like these suckers - you don't bow to pressure." Everyone around me was fast melting into nothing. The halo I created around my head was visible to none - least of all to me.

Then one day, two months ago, the truth struck me. As they say, there is only so much ass you can sit on! For long I had brushed away the well-meaning taunts and unsolicited advice from well-meaning friends about my career - such as there was of it at any rate. I knew what I was doing, I believed. What did people know about my life anyway.

Then one day an elderly colleague gave me the lecture that changed my life - at least for that night! I went home and began applying. Never mind what line I got into, I told myself, I would try getting myself out of the comfortable mess I was in and make some more money in the process. I went all around, like the prodigal son. Two months and many dreamless nights later I find myself back in the same line but in another job. Welcome home, my chosen profession beckons me!

Now, with just another three days left before I make the shift, I find myself experiencing mixed feelings. Where I am was after all my first real job. Then I find it hard to dispel the coincidence that Fate has wrought on me - three years ago when I began working in the present job, the day was the 3rd of November. Through no fault of mine, I find I will be joining the new place on the 2nd of November this time. Actually, now that I've said it, I don't find it all that freakish, but we journalists start seeing a lot of things in a lot of places that do not exist. You must pardon us. Must be the stress of work.

Also, I feel a certain abandon overwhelming me. I feel like doing something outrageous, like leaving a mark that people won't forget in a hurry. I just hope I won't embarrass myself like I have a tendency of doing. There are also certain awkward moments that won't seem so awkward in time. Like, for instance, when I caught my immediate boss looking with a certain indulgent affection in my direction and I wanted to bury myself six feet under the ground. But I won't deny that I did feel good. These, however, are mere passing feelings.

Then again, as my friend told me, I'm in a position in which I could just about show the boss the finger if I wanted to. I shudder at the thought, of course, seeing as my conscience would baulk at such a gesture, but it's the principle of the thing I'm talking about. I feel I could do almost anything and get away with it. But if this is my gut feeling, then it most certainly is nothing to go by. You see, my guts have always lied to me! Or do I have them at all? Anyway, I hate ending a piece with a question mark!

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

The amateur drummer

As a musician, which I humbly believe I am, of a certain type in any case, I would like to put down a few observations I have made about the amateur drummer, which I also believe I am. Until recently I didn't believe I would actually be able to get my hands on a real drum set and put into practice those drumming skills I believed I possessed in some degree, no matter how small. Then, a few months ago, my elder brother landed up at home back from a visit to the US, carrying a huge box in his hands. It was an electronic drum kit and I had to drum myself deaf for a long time before I convinced myself that it indeed was real. I was in a dream-like state you see. Anyway, I'm rambling again...

Well, amateur drummers can basically be divided into two types. One is the absolutely technical drummer, who is clinically precise in his rhythms and is flawless in keeping a steady timing, never missing a beat. However, he does not excite you much, neither experimenting nor innovating or even trying to with his beats, preferring rather to play an accompanying role and not intrude in any substantial way into the main act. This type of drummer will probably either drum himself to boredom and give up playing altogether, or he might one day decide that it's time to change his ways.

The other type of amateur drummer is the non-technical variety, but one who plays from his heart. He absorbs himself so much into his music that often he gets carried away and loses timing. But while this might nonpluss him a bit, his pure passion for drumming sweeps him along. He is constantly innovating and putting his heart into his playing. The sound he produces has a different effect on its listeners. In this case, he not only enthuses himself to unwieldy heights that leave him dizzy, but also excites his audience to such a degree that they feel thrown up on the crest of a tempestuous wave of drug-like elation, with each violent crashing of the cymbals producing the same effect on them as if the wave they seem to be travelling on were crashing into another equally strong one. The drummer in this case is as much in the foreground as the next musician. I believe, humbly again, that I fit into this second category.

I realised the difference between these two kinds of drummers when I observed them being represented in the two drummers who play at church. While I greatly admire the technical guy, for carrying off the perfect timing like a classical musician, my heart has always gone out to the second guy, the one who bungles along at times, but who plays with his heart and by his ear. If you ask me who I think has a better chance of making the transition into the professional performer, I would definitely say the second type, unless, of course, the first decides to mend his ways.

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

Going In Blind

A message from the band POD. What Sonny (the vocalist) has to say here really encouraged me, and I wanted to share it with anyone who might be interested:

"Sonny’s message about the Single "Going In Blind":

The lyrical inspiration of "Going In Blind" came late the last night of our studio session in Knoxville. We had finished one song and had a rough music sketch of another. We thought we were finished and would be heading home early in the morning until one of those moments happened. Our inspiration walked through the door. A good friend and neighbor of our producer Travis Wyrick stopped by the studio, for what I have no idea. I was on the phone at the time and she was probably there no more than a minute. I think she said hello to the guys, smiled at me and then left. I walked back into the studio and the guys were continuing a conversation we had a few days earlier. Travis was telling us about his friends who had lost their child to a crime so evil I couldn't even begin to explain. That's how it started; none of us had an "Explanation". All of us in the room were husbands, fathers, men of faith and spiritual guys who overall believe in the "Power of Good". At that moment, not one of us could come up with an explanation. We were speechless and quiet. How do you tell this woman that everything is going to be alright? How do I tell her God has everything in control and truly believe it myself? Telling her I understand would make me a liar! Don't get me wrong, I believe in God. I believe in this faith that has saved my life and I would willingly lay my life down for what I believe is the truth. Just don't ask me to do the same for one of my babies. I don't think I could.

Everything you believe in and everything you know to be true can be tested in one single second, the second your child is taken away from you. What do you say to that person? I wish I could say everything is going to be alright. I want to tell you that God has everything in control. And like you, I want to understand. What an amazing person this woman is to have walked past me and smiled even though I had no idea what she has been through. One smile of love is more encouraging than a million words. I have been encouraged to walk this fine line of life even though at times I might not know exactly where I am going. Even though the road gets rough, if we walk them in LOVE, we might actually get to where we need to be.
- Sonny"

Monday, October 09, 2006

ASAP

If I have a pet peeve, it is that people in Bangalore can't keep themselves from coughing up their phlegm and spitting right in the middle of the road. Actually I have another pet peeve too, which is the way people keep blaring their vehicle horns much to the irritation of all around. Are they just trying to be irritating or am I irritable? I know I have a slight problem of either low or high blood pressure - whichever the right one is - like my dad, and that would probably explain my reaction. But in any case, I feel it is justified.

I mean, I myself am able to go about on the roads without either spitting or blaring my bike horn, so I imagine it's humanly possible to do so. Possibly it's just something ingrained in the thoughtlessness of our general psyche - of total disregard for public property and other people. Anyway, I shall leave my second peeve aside for the moment and concentrate on the first - and more infuriating - one.

I have worked myself to such a state of fury that I nearly gag each time I see spit, usually white but sometimes with all its yellow phlegmy constituents, cast about haphazardly on the roads. Such things are supposed to be confined either to a person's interiors or to the drains (for which a passageway may be sought through the toilet). Since I cannot really gag as this would in no way improve the situation, I restrict myself to cursing the perpetrator silently or sometimes even casting a most disdainful look in his (it's usually a 'his') direction, often adding a severe wagging of the head for effect. When it comes to my second peeve, I sometimes show my irritation by flailing my arms about my head in a most dramatic manner. Naturally, it usually is not lost on the object of my emotions, though I have never really been able to follow up on whether the victim effected a change in his ways after that. But I rest peaceful in my ignorance anyway.

After some time of cursing such people both silently and at times loud enough for my own ears to hear audibly enough, I finally hit upon some form of a scheme to tackle the spitting menace. If not anything else, it at least helps me ease the adverse effect on my high or low blood pressure. I decided to start a one-man crusade against such elements. But I also realised that such a crusade would have to have some precautionary strings attached if I wanted to survive many more anti-spitting years.

The plan I finally decided upon was to carry a small bottle along with me, filled with clean water. The bottle would be no bigger than a normal Pepsi or Coke. Armed with this bottle, I would set out on my mission. Travelling about on my bike, everytime I would see an offender coughing up his disgusting body fluids on the road, I would take out my bottle, go up to him and pour out the water on the mess. This would serve not only to clear it away but also to send the perpetrator a clear and indignant message. Besides, it would also guarantee my safety. The fellow technically would not be justified in inflicting any harm on me as I would not be directly doing anything to him, only showing my righteous fury against his act.

This said, I have not been too effective yet in putting my plan into any real far-reaching effect. Actually, I have only been able to do it twice since I started. The first time was at a traffic signal, which did not change as quickly as it usually did whenever I had felt compelled previously to take out my weapon. I mean, until then and even after, it was like everything was ganging up against me. The traffic signals, which otherwise would not change when I would even be late to work, would then choose to change just as I would take out my bottle. Or the fellow would spit just before the light changed, making me merely curse him as before.

But this time, I had a good 120 seconds before the light changed. And these two young dirty boys were in front of me. One of them coughed up rather heartily and let loose a rather liberal stream on the roadside. I mean, the guy just didn't seem to want to stop. My blood boiled within me and my eyes turned a deep red. I slowly took out my bottle - I was going to give my one chance yet the best dramatic effect I could - and, walking up to their bike, I slowly and deliberately poured the water over the spit, letting it wash the spot rather generously.

Naturally, all eyes were on me, none more so than the offenders beside whose bike I was standing. I frankly don't know what either they or the rest felt, but I would imagine it was a mixture of scorn and embarrassment. I was not perturbed anyway. This was exactly the kind of reaction I had hoped for - what I had been waiting for, for so long. When I had finished emptying the bottle of its contents, I calmly walked back to my bike, with dramatic deliberate slow steps. Back on my bike, I was able to review my actions, without regret, and also observe the lingering reactions of my poor victims. They were talking with embarrassed smiles and indicating my direction in certain subtle ways. The thrill that passed through my frame at that point was unparallelled. I felt remarkably noble, like one of those knights of old who had just thrust his lance through the villain's heart and had his maiden's fair but woeful blue eyes cast grateful beams into his. I felt ecstatic. My smile seemed to challenge all around - "Come on, please spit. I'm ready for you." Luckily though, no one chose to take up my challenge, as my bottle had run out of water!

The second time I got to effect my scheme was on Mahatma Gandhi Road, when another foul-mouthed man strewed the roadside. I had stopped by the side of the road and was waiting for my mom so I took out my bottle. Unfortunately, the guy had rushed away on some other nefarious task of his so I had to confine myself with washing the spot and having some others stare at me. I cursed a bit too.

So I have decided now to expand my campaign. I have called it ASAP - the Anti-Spitting Action Plan. Anyone who shares my peeve could join up free and pass on the good word to likeminded friends too. All you would have to do is carry a small bottle with you. Soon we could have a veritable army of bottle-wielding anti-spitting fanatics. No politics though. We could even become quite famous someday. But that's not the ultimate aim - it is a noble cause we have in mind. So, all who carry the fire that burns within against the unholy roadside phlegm of man, please join ASAP ASAP.

Thursday, October 05, 2006

Define the Great Line

For all you Christian metalheads (we are a small community scattered around the world), this is to announce that I just chanced upon a rare Christian metal group, right in middle of a secular store. The band is called Underoath (http://www.underoath777.com/band.php) and is a hardcore metal act from Florida. I came across it during one of my searches at Planet M, Bangalore, for heavy gospel music. The album, 'Define the Great Line', is the band's latest release and is a must buy for any hardcore Christian metal fan. It is complete with screaming vocals, powerful guitaring and high-speed drums.

For long I have been conducting these mostly fruitless searches painstakingly in secular music stores. But if I have learnt one lesson in life it is that perseverance always pays, especially when your heart is set on something that has a personal meaning for you. Our community is a very lonely one and chances are you'd have to seek out the farthest corners to come across such likeminded individuals. But one of my core principles has been to be part of such minority groups, whose principles you feel very powerfully and individually about. Christian metal is something that is very close to my heart because it is hard music with meaning - meaning that relates to your soul.

This immediately puts you in the middle of two worlds. One comprises the majority of metal music-lovers that listen to largely Satanic music, as well as the large majority of those who listen to any kind of secular music that can be picked right off the stands in any music store, and shun any mention of the word 'Christian' like the plague. The other comprises a large community of lovers of Christian music, who, however, either denounce Christian metal as being an oxymoron and therefore not really 'Christian' or as a form of music that does not agree with their tastes. Naturally I disagree with both groups but my reasons are long enough for another post.

Anyway, the search for Christian metal is always going to be tough in such a situation. After realising that Christian music stores do not themselves contain the kind of music I like, I have long been scanning secular music stores for some Christian metal that might be buried among the tonnes of regular metal. For years I have been on this quest. I have been sighting names of bands that I would think could be Christian but before deciding to buy them, I would first research them on the internet. Until now I have been disappointed. Today, however, I stumbled upon this group when my attention was directed to their latest album (2006). I might have walked past but for a sign put up by Planet M stating that the band was a Christian heavy metal act. Imaginably, I could not believe my eyes. I read the vague Gothic script twice or thrice before deciding that it indeed read 'Christian'. Then I picked it up, walked straight over to the counter and paid up. Once out, I ripped open the cover and looked at certain signs on the jacket that confirmed my best hopes. I'm listening to the album right now and it is exactly all that I hoped for. The search will now go on...