Jun 26, 2013

Blood, Sweat and Socks

Have A Nice Day
I worked my way to the back
It wasn't a pretty sight
It wasn't how I imagined it
Right after the gory fight

Saw him by the corner
A bandage to his head
Busted right open minutes earlier
Could use a hospital bed

'Mick' I said
'Could I have a word?'
'What are you doing here?'
'This isn't how you were.'

'Look son' he shot right back
'I have seen a lot worse'
'I had to battle my way to the top'
'and this isn't such a bad curse'

'But mick' I interject
'Is this what you had in mind?'
'Is this how you want to end it all'
'after that painful thirty year grind?'

He smirked through that handsome beard
And flipped his hair to one side
The gash oozed a fresh scarlet trickle
While he proceeded to confide

'They can take away my millions'
'They can take away my pride'
'They can crack me open, beat me down'
'and I might even have cried'

Those hazel eyes burnt into me
as he went on to say
'Unless they can take away my identity'
'I'll live to fight another day'


May 2013.
A simple poem.

Jun 13, 2013

This is the End



Not sure how many of my extensive and diverse audience (have a laugh why don't you) will be able to relate to my shock and dismay at hearing about the sudden decision by the Goenka family to close down the renowned 'Music World' branch on Park Street, Calcutta.

Other than that being THE rendezvous point for pretty much every student,young professional or tourist in the city planning a day out on what is now referred to as 'Mother Teresa Sarani'- it served as the honest middle class Bengali's go-to destination for celebrating that yearly bonus or birthday money from grandma. The franchise opened it's first outlet 15 years back at this location and it is fair to say that a critical period of my growing up has coincided with its existence.

A compilation of best pop songs before the new millennium followed by Linkin Park's 'Hybrid Theory' first occupied the empty compartment above my book shelf. Pearl Jam, Nirvana and John Denver were soon to follow. This was my first taste of buying music from the 'International' section of an air conditioned, well lit shop dedicated to music -  a major step up in ambition from the infrequent visits to Melody, Rash Behari Avenue. It signaled the dawn of a new age in some way. It was partly about walking into a store with a western outlook - something that appealed to kids my age more than sticking to the shops where Dad and Mum purchased their first record together. Say what you might.. but there was a sense of buying into class everytime a 13 year old stepped inside a hall lined with music albums stacked on giant racks placed end-to-end.

The CD player was the next to arrive at our home swiftly followed by a range of shiny round objects which my parents entrusted me with buying. Well, partly. Alright - maybe not. However, the shop did open its doors to the VCDs and suddenly one could watch a movie sitting right in their living rooms. Bangla bands simultaneously reached to their prime around them and Bhoomi, Parash Pathar, Cactus and Fossils made their way onto our 600 W system. Before I knew it, DVDs were much cheaper than when they came out and the beautiful remastered DVD copy of PULSE nestled in my cupboard drawer.

All of a sudden - the internet was faster. 256 kbps was still the fastest back then...but it was enough for us to get hooked to torrents. The word 'discography' was, well, discovered. Pendrives and external hardisks became common and suddenly the cool 5 GB on your system was just not enough anymore. The doors to music world seemed smaller now - and our gates to (free) world music standing wide open before us. Less time was spent staring longingly at the Dream Theater - Live in Tokyo concert DVD and more of it (iso)hunting for it on the web. The Music World at the crossing was now merely part of the "music world crossing". Very rarely did we browse the million aisles hoping to stumble across a bit of audiophillic gold - instead choosing to wander around aimlessly inside so that we could stand in air conditioned comfort while waiting for that precious empty table at Peter Cat. College happened and Music World was just the rendezvous point during summer vacation meetups.

Soon enough the management took notice. Cassettes were sent to a discrete corner with a sole lonely rack dedicated to the left-overs from last decades technological blip. Games, electronics and DVDs lined the racks. Assisted by a few live gigs and album launches, the once popular destination now drew a crowd only on a weekend or two. We knew what had happened. Music World was just a giant street sign for the college crowd - pointing left to Oly Pub, straight to Xaviers or right to KFC.

This post is long enough as it is. However, I'm not done yet. You see, this is not just a tribute to place that has knowingly or unknowingly played it's part in many a Calcuttans lives. It is, but also, a statement. A statement which was made the day we chose to close down Music World. A statement about how we have just stopped giving a shit. A statement on how the world of information has made us bland with choice. On how crude distasteful music formats such as the .mp3 has made us chose quantity over quality. A statement we make everyday when we don't stop to think about the time and effort a musician puts into getting that note right, the pitch on scale and the beat in time and chose instead to stream their work at a disrespectful 240p from a third party site.

Will I stop downloading music? Will I really put my savings into purchasing the legal rights to my ridiculously massive "collection"? Will I chose to load an album into a clumsy old stereo and connect it to a set of speakers over buying a track on iTunes? Will I start an anti-piracy campaign?
Probably not. But I can make a small contribution. So, on June 30th when Music World, Park Street closes shop for the very last time and crash lands in yesterday-news heaven, I will put that newly purchased Indus Creed album into aforementioned clumsy stereo and pray that we don't send our homegrown artists down the very same road.