Nostalgia #1: A small tribute to MJ

My tribute to the King of pop

I believe that it’s not who we meet, or live with, in our life that defines whether we will cry when they leave us. It is the role that person played in your consciousness that will define it. Sometimes we wonder why we are touched by some things that others, plainly, seem to ignore. On a lot of pondering, I realized that was because those things meant something to you in your consciousness, whereas they meant nothing to others.

It was 25th June, 2009, a typical working day. As I started my work, it was all over the internet. “MJ, the King of pop is dead!” I went into a stunned meditative silence. Now a lot of you would wonder “What the hell does a guy working in front of a computer all day have to do with this world-wide phenomenon?”  The question seems apt. But the answer is not a one-liner. There is a story behind this silence. And while there have been great stories about MJ, there is this one small story that can easily stay untold.

In that state of blankness that I drew from the news, I was hurled back in time to the 80’s. I was born in the slums of Mumbai, just like a million others. I was just like any “very ordinary” kid. I had nothing “special”. I could see that everyone was better than me. I was in a deep state of inferiority-complex syndrome (which I didn’t know then, of course!). I grew up watching everyone around me have their moments in the spotlight, at least once. I was happy to let others lead. I was always a part of the cheering crowd, afraid that I might faint if that damn spotlight, even accidently, falls on me! I had a few friends who understood that… and so I had a few friends. I started liking the anonymity. I didn’t require anyone to know my name. Home was the only place I was comfortable, whereas outside home…well, it was just life happening, and something that I didn’t care about too much. It was almost like I was living in a completely different dimension or a parallel universe, where no one knew me! They could see me, but couldn’t communicate. But I was happy with whatever little I had and I intended to keep it that way for the rest of my life.

Life, as we all know, has its own stories to tell though. One fine day, I was casually watching the television, when what seemed like a human being was dancing like no other human being could. Just to add to the dancing, the music was catchy too (although I just couldn’t figure out what he is singing). My eyes went wide like saucers. I had never seen anything like that before. Was that “dancing”??? Until I saw him I thought my friends dancing at our local “Ganpati” processions was hard to compete with! I gasped. That was cool! Only a person who is not a gifted dancer can understand why what he was doing was magical. I fitted the criteria perfectly. Not that I never tried to dance before. I had tried it in front of a mirror once, but hell, I didn’t like it! So I had decided to spare the world of the same. While I and my friends were watching the breath-taking performance of this guy, whose name we could barely pronounce back then (my friends convinced me it was Mukul Jaikishen), something else caught my attention. It was the crowds.

Firstly, there were just too many people. And secondly, they were all hysterical! You could read their eyes. They were focussed on this performer, as if he had put their minds into some deep spell, whereas their bodies didn’t know how to react to this? The crowd. Yes. I knew what it was like to be a part of it. Cheering other people who could do things better than them. Screaming facelessly. Felicitating.

And at that moment, for the first time ever in my life, I did not want to be a part of the crowd. I wanted to be MJ! I wanted to take the spotlight for once. I wanted to be cheered for once. It was the first time I thought, I was capable of doing something other than nothing. I was so convinced that if I put my hard-work into it, I could actually dance like him. One of the great things about great people is that they can inspire even the lowest of creatures to strive for greatness. That jig he performed that day was good enough to make me want to get up and dance. I was ready to face the mirror again. And this time, I was not going to stop until I end up performing and finding a million people cheering for me (when you are a kid, nothing is impossible, isn’t it?). I kept practicing his “moon-walk” only to find myself walking in the same direction as I was supposed to be pretending to every time. But I didn’t give up. One day, I managed to pull it off. And although it was not as smooth as MJ’s, going by my standards, it was pretty awesome! That was the only move I needed to learn to get some new friends and show-off.

It is said that when you want something bad, the Universe conspires to get you that. It was only in my final year at college that I was roped in for a dance performance (in front of college teenagers, one of the toughest crowds known to mankind). Just like Eklavya learnt archery by mere reverence and observation; I realized that I had evolved as a better dancer just by observing MJ all these years! And as I pulled off the last step that we had so carefully rehearsed, the crowd went berserk. They were not millions, but they were enough.

As I grew older, I forgot about all the moves that I practiced, but I never forgot the lesson. Never stop dreaming or believing and dream BIG! I always thought that anyone who does not believe that God exists has definitely not heard Louis Armstrong play jazz, heard Kishore Kumar sing, watched Sachin Tendulkar bat, or seen MJ dance. How else can you prove the existence of God, I don’t know? And as MJ moon-walked back to heaven almost a year ago, he must have touched so many lives so far and will continue to do so. And each one will have a small story like this to tell.

Like I said, it’s the role that people play in our consciousness that defines if we will cry when they leave us. My tears were justified that day. All I can hope for is that when death comes knocking at my door, I will be able to look into its eyes and just before my eyes freeze forever, I could get to ask “Who’s BAD?”