Kinds of people you see at a concert

We went for an Indian Ocean concert on Saturday evening. It was brilliant. They totally rocked it. But that’s not what this post is about.

The concert was at this place called the Music Academy. It’s a HUGE auditorium, with seating upstairs and downstairs. The upstairs seating is quite a distance away from the stage, to be honest. You can’t really connect with the artistes, you know what I mean? So anyways, there was this one guy who, right from when the band appeared on stage, was so enthused, that his energy was quite infectious. He was this typical HCU-JNU ‘buji’ types, you know? Long hair in a pony, kurta and jeans, spectacles, a metal kada on his right wrist (yes, I have a keen sense of observation, sometimes for the most inconsequential of things). He literally couldn’t sit still in his seat. The band started playing. This guy was in his element. Clapping, shouting, whoo-ing. The rest of the audience was looking at him and sniggering, some of them with grudging admiration. And then, after a couple of songs, he just couldn’t contain himself. He got up from his seat, went and stood in the aisle, and stood there for the following two hours. He was standing there all by himself, but I don’t think he cared two hoots.

One word for him. Respect. I SO wanted to go and stand with him and clap and shout like that. But I didn’t. Why, you ask? I guess I was embarrassed. I didn’t want the rest of the audience to look at me and laugh the way there were at him. Pathetic, I know. I preferred to sit in my seat and be an enthu-cutlet.

And that got me thinking. At every concert, you will different kinds of people. Here are the ones I have observed:-

1)      The Tripper

The guy who inspired me to write this post falls into this category, so do many many others I know. They come to the concert purely for the music. For the experience of seeing their favourite band perform live. For them, it’s not just another evening spent listening to music. They really believe in the music. It is an out-of-the-body experience for them. They will be right in front of the stage (or standing in the aisle due to lack of any other choice) and clapping and shouting. They go into a trance. They know all the songs, and they don’t care a fuck whether they get pointed and laughed at. They didn’t come to make a good impression anyway. They came for the music. They came to trip on the music.

I fall into this category partly. I go for the music. But unless I have the right company, I can’t bring myself to stand in front of the stage or in the aisle (Arun, how I missed you at the Swarathma and Indian Ocean concerts, seriously).

The trippers are an absolute joy to have at a concert.

2)      The London Mondon Statues

And on the other end of the spectrum from the Trippers are the London Mondon Statues. They don’t move a muscle. They sit there like statues and give an obligatory clap at the end of each song. In their minds, they’re probably making plans for the next day – what to make for breakfast, what dress to wear to work, when is the due date to pay credit card bills etc. I cannot for the life of me understand how they can sit still like that when music is playing. But then, I for one will move even to a Himesh Reshammiya song. So I’m no one to judge.

3)      The Updaters

“At Indian Ocean concert- so-and-so checked in at Music Academy”. “Oh wow dude. How is it?” “It is awwwsum!”

How would you know? You’re not even listening to the music. You are too busy letting the whole world know that you are at a concert.

And not because they are excited about it. Nope, they just want the whole world to know that they are oh-so-cool. They spend most of the time at the concert giving live updates. But ask them what their favourite song of the band is, they’ll blink at you. Dude, the people on the stage, they deserve a little more respect.

4)      The Record-keepers

They want to take low-resolution videos of the concert from a far distance despite strict instructions that photography and videography is not allowed. Why? How else will they prove to the rest of the world that they actually DID go for the concert? That grainy little video? Yes, that’s the proof. You think I’m being too critical? Let me ask you. This is the digital age. Videos are available all over the net. You can listen to the audio online. Buy CD’s. Why in the world would you want to take a one-minute clip when you can watch several better videos of the same band performing the same song on Youtube? Or is it BECAUSE you want to upload it on Youtube? Ah... ok. NOW it makes sense.

5)      The Pretty People

They come to get their pictures clicked for Page 3. Period.

6)      The Closet-Trippers

Yours truly falls into this category. Given a chance, I would be up there on the stage with the artistes, jumping and tripping on the music. But I don’t do it. Why? I’ll tell you when I figure it out, ok?

So we, as mad as we are about the music, and despite knowing all the songs and the lyrics to them, will not move from our seats. We will sit right there and then proceed to clap and shout and whoo and sway and what-not. We will sing along, we will clap till our hands hurt, we will shout till our throats hurt. But no, but will NOT move from our seats. Go figure.

7)      The Where-am-I-I-Think-I-Lost-My-Way ones

They came in because they had two hours to kill in the evening or wanted to get away from their kids. Oh look! There’s a concert happening! Let’s go! Two songs in, they realise this is not how they wanted to spend their Saturday evening. And they walk out. Well, at least they are honest about it, as opposed to those who come to a concert and proceed to spend the next couple of hours playing Temple Run on their phones.

Which brings me to the next type.

8)      The Tag-alongs

They just came along because someone wanted company. And offered to pay for their tickets. So they thought, “Oh what the hell”. You know exactly who they are because they will be spending most of their time on their phone playing games or reading, will go out every ten minutes to attend “important” phone calls, go out to get things to eat, take umpteen loo breaks, and sometimes disappear for hours and return just ten minutes before the concert ends. They’re harmless, except for when they are sitting next to you, and you’re in the aisle seat, and every ten minutes you have to move back to let them go. You know who they are.

That’s all I can think of for now. How many more do you think there are?

"I miss you" doesn't quite cover it

When people come to know that I’m new to Chennai, the question that naturally follows is “So, how do you like Chennai?” My answer usually is “I don’t, really”. I mean, what’s there to like? It’s hot all the time. You feel exhausted all the time because of the heat. The autowalas will fleece you, given a chance (although it’s slightly better now, what with the meter finally being implemented). It’s a lot more expensive. I don’t have many friends here. I can’t speak Tamil at all. Etc etc etc.

But in my heart of hearts, I know those are just excuses.

The real reason I’m not able to like Chennai is Hyderabad. I miss Hyderabad terribly, like I’ve never missed any person before.

I miss it all the time. Most days, it’s ok. It’s just a fond memory in my mind. A mild longing, more like. It’s been a year since I bid adieu to the place, to my life there. But not a single day has passed when I haven’t thought about those five and a half years, and I let out a wistful sigh. Five and a half short years that gave me a lifetime of lessons and memories. An affair to remember.

But like I said, most days, it’s ok. Just wishful longing.

Then there are days, like today, for example, when the wishful longing makes way for a large gaping hole in my heart. A strong desire to be back there. As though, you know, I need to be there. I need to see the places and people to hang on to my sanity.

And it’s not just a longing for the place. It’s a longing for everything that the place stands for.

Freedom. Adventure. Breaking free. HCU. Midnight strolls around the campus. Love. Life. Passion. Survival. Red FM. Necklace Road station. Uncertainty of life. Heart break. Drinking and tripping on Pink Floyd and Mohit Chauhan and Gulzar and Irshad Kamil... Living alone. Friends. Soul mates. Roommates. Gulmohar Park. Kundan bagh. Old Monk. Coming home to hot yummy food. Endless conversations. Comfortable silences. Orange wall. Knowing that you’ll never be alone and friendless. That your SOS lives just across the street and hovers around you like a satellite. That if you get a craving for biryani in the middle of the night, it WILL be brought to you. I miss being my own master. Not having to bother about what to cook for breakfast, lunch or dinner. I miss reading till late into the night and watching sitcoms back to back on weekends. I even miss the MMTS trains journeys, during which i have made some life-changing decisions. I miss cracking PJs and talking nonsense; nonsense that will be reciprocated with bigger nonsense and not sense and logic. I long to sit on the terrace with Prusty and Pattanaik, watching the moon and singing ‘chand wale gaane’. I miss my comrades and the companionship.

I miss the life that was and never will be again. Because according to some stupid prophet, life has to move on. Whatever.

Date a man who reads

…but DON’T marry him.

When you’re dating, it’s all so cool. You’re proud of the fact that you’re dating a man who reads a lot. You’re thrilled he has more books than he has clothes. You find the idea of you and him, cuddled up in bed, reading, oh-so-romantic. You find that concentration so hot. You’re happy that when it comes to buying gifts for him, you don’t have to rack your brains too much; all you have to do is gift him a book, and he’s the happiest man in the world. You’re already churning up visions of him reading to your children as he tucks them in at night. All that ‘intelligent’ conversation gives you such a high. You melt into little pools of adoration when he quotes from your favourite books, and doesn’t give a second glance at a hot chick passing by when his nose is buried in a book (alright, I exaggerate here. Such a man does not exist. Even with his wife sitting next to him, he will still check out other women. That’s just how they’re wired).

So awesome he is, no?

That’s what I used to think too. I used to find the idea of a guy who reads very attractive. I still do. Especially since reading isn’t a habit that men adapt to naturally. Also because none of my exes were much into reading. They’re a very rare species, the man who likes to read rather than watch cricket or fiddle around with his tab. I’m not saying they don’t exist, but they’re quite rare. To be honest, I have always wanted to cuddle up in bed with my guy, reading, falling asleep with the book open on my face. I have wished that my boyfriend would be awed when he set his eyes on my collection of books (which, incidentally, is bigger than my collection of clothes I think), and would, without wasting an instant, lose himself in them, forgetting about me altogether (yeah, I’m THAT kind of girl. Ignore me for another girl, I will punch your face. Ignore me for a book, I can forgive you). But like I said, none of exes found books as magical and essential as I did. I didn’t grieve too much about it, though. Because they were awesome in their own ways.

Anyways.

God must have thought, so what if you didn’t date a man who reads, puttar? I shall get you married to a man who reads. And you both shall live happily ever after in your home filled with books in every possible nook and cranny.

And that’s exactly what happened. I got married to a man who really does have more books than he has clothes. We cuddle up in bed reading, and when I fall sleep with the book (and my spectacles) on my face, he puts it away very gently, taking care to not wake me up. While all this is super-awesome, I soon found out that being married to a man who reads as much as my husband does, comes with its own share of problems. And what are those, you ask?

1) I keep the milk to boil and tell him to watch it while I go brush my teeth. He does so, with his nose buried in the newspaper. And while he’s busy catching up on what’s happening in the world around him, bang in front of the stove, the milk happily boils over and spills on the stove and kitchen platform. And that, my lovelies, is a sure-shot way to raise your BP right in the morning. Works every time.

2) Me (in the morning):  Please take the trash out, baby.

S: Hmm (but of course, reading)

Me (in the afternoon): Please take the trash out. (an octave higher, this one).

S: Ya… (still reading)

Me (in the evening): Take the trash out!!

S: What? Oh, yes. I will.

Me (next day): Take the fucking trash out! I’ve been telling you since yesterday!

S: Oh sorry. I forgot.

:/

3) The whole family is sitting around talking. Dad, mom, uncles, aunts, cousins, nieces, nephews, siblings. We’re all meeting after months. Everyone’s talking at the same time, one over the other. Catching up, gossiping, laughing. And in the midst of all this, one guy sitting silently with –yes, you guessed it- his nose buried in a book. Before our last trip to my native place, I told him that if he did that again, I will throw the book into the pond in my mom’s house. Surprisingly, it worked.

4) Karma can be a real bitch, you know. For all the times that I used to pretty much ignore my mom when she tried talking to me during train journeys because I was too busy reading, God is now paying me back. I get the royal ignore in the train from S, who takes out a book before the train even leaves the station. I have had to grab the book from his hands many times and say to him “Talk to me!”.

5) 8 out of 10 times, he will not be paying attention to anything I’m saying, because he’s too busy reading. And then when I bring the same thing up a few days later, he’ll be all “What?? When did this happen?! You didn’t tell me!!” Umm.. sure I did. Maybe if I had written it in a book and given it you, you would have remembered it better?

6) Reading in the toilet. Need I even elaborate?

7) Sweetheart, do you know why I request that we switch off the lights during sex? Not just because the tubelight is a mood-killer, but also to make sure that you don’t start reading even during the act, in case a book is somewhere there in the vicinity. Because frankly, I wouldn’t put it past you.

8) And to top it all, he has ebooks on his tab as well, which he will bring out when he doesn’t have a book handy. As if I didn’t have enough competition already.

9) We were travelling by a night bus to Palakkad a couple of weeks back. Since it’s a night bus, they’ll obviously switch off the lights. So I thought “Thank god, at least now he won’t read and will talk to me instead”. And out comes the stupid fuckall smart phone in which- no prizes for guessing!!- he has ebooks stored! That pushed me over the threshold. I would’ve thrown it out of the window if it hasn’t been an AC bus. I made up for that loss by confiscating the phone and keeping it in my handbag for a while. Can you imagine!!

So ladies, don’t complain that your guy spends too much time on his phone and tab. Consider yourself lucky. I, on the other hand, have to compete with books, magazines, ebooks, newspapers, tabs, smartphones-with-expandable-memory-that’ll-allow-you-to-store-damn-ebooks, the internet, brochures, condom packs, cereal cartons, CD covers, Wikipedia, “I fucking love science”, graffiti on the walls, blah blah blah.  

But the silver lining to all this is that I can spend as much as I want on books and he’ll never ask me why. Ha!

P.S. I love you. Which, by the way, is a book by some lady, in case you want to read that as well.  

The Truth About Sex

*The post is liberally peppered with the word "sex". So don't even go past this line if you're squeamish about it. I don't want to get any comments saying that you found this crass and gross*

Our primary source of knowledge about sex is more often than not from movies, books, television, etc. Right? We’ve all eagerly waited for our parents to go to bed so that we watch some “late night HBO-type fun” (those who have watched ‘The President is Coming’ will get this). Another source, of course, is porn. But that’s a whole different point of view.

We tend to form our opinions (not to mention expectations)about sex from whatever we see in all these movies and read about in Mills & Boons and Jackie Collins novels at a young impressionable age. That boys and girls form different opinions about it is another matter altogether.

I can’t speak for men, but as a woman, I have realised by now that we should simply not believe what we watch and read about sex. It might just lead to a whole lot of disappointment when you actually do start having sex. I won’t say I was disappointed, but it did bust a few popular notions. So here you go, a list of thing I feel popular culture tends to lie to you or build stereotypes in your mind about sex. All the virgins out there, take notes. All the non-virgins, help me out, ok?

1)      White bedsheets.

You know what I’m talking about, right? 90 percent of the sex scenes I have seen have couples wrapped tightly in pristine, pure white bedsheets, much like how you swaddle new born babies (apologies for that disturbing parallel). Here’s the truth. Nobody has sex wrapped in bedsheets, let alone white ones. Unless you want your limbs to get entangled in them at the most crucial moments. And the white sheets remind me of hospitals more than anything. Besides, the feel of skin on skin is so much better than the feel of bedsheet on bedsheet (that doesn’t even sound sexy)

2)      People have this notion, owing mainly to films, that sex is purely a nocturnal activity. My friends have stopped calling me past 11 at night now. Even if they call, they hang up quickly. Why? Because they don’t want to be the reason to delay any ‘activities’. Or if I don’t pick up the call, they just assume that it’s because I’m busy *nudge nudge wink wink*.

What makes you think I have sex only at night? Or that night is the only time I have sex? Sex needn’t always happen only at night. It can very well happen in the morning, afternoon, or evening. Or all of these times, if you’re up for it! Sure, it’s a lot more convenient at night, because you’re not in a hurry to get ready and rush to work. But you needn’t necessarily have the energy for it at night either, right? And believe me,  if you’re in the mood for it, it won't even matter what time of the day it is,.

3)      Movies and TV shows (Read- Sex and the city) show the woman having screaming orgasms during sex. Naturally, I was under the impression that orgasms are a given, that it’ll just happen. So imagine my consternation when I discovered that orgasms are not as easy as they show it to be. Oh not for the men, though. It’s pretty easy for them. But for the women..phew, is it a lot of work or what! I’m not saying it’ll never happen. But don’t count on having one every time. Don’t get hung up about it. Because the point of sex is not the orgasm. If you keep obsessing about reaching a climax, you’ll simply not enjoy the rest of the act. And it’s no fault of the man, really (well, sometimes it is). That’s just how the female anatomy is.

      But when the orgasms do happen? Yes, they’re every bit as amazing as they describe it in movies and books. That, alone, is not a myth. ;)

4)      You need not look like a hero or a supermodel to enjoy sex. The heroine in the movie has flat abs because she gets paid to look beautiful. But you have no such obligation. Trust me, the guy does not care if there’s a tyre around your tummy and the girl doesn’t care if you don’t have six pack abs. I personally feel, out of experience, that good-looking people, or people who think they are good-looking, are not all that great in bed. Those chiseled abs may help in turning you on, but when he’s just lying there on his back, as though he’s doing you a favour, expecting you to do all the work, it’s not much of a turn-on anymore.

So stop being conscious about your body.

5)      Ladies, it’s ok to enjoy sex, and be open about it. You don’t need to be so shy, batting eyelashes and blushing when a man touches you. I know it’s a deeply emotional thing for us, but it’s ok to let go. In fact, from what I’ve gathered, men like it when the woman is a lot more proactive. So shed those inhibitions and start enjoying sex. It’s not a sin. And don’t expect the man to do all the work. Not only is it unfair, it’ll also make sex boring.

6)      The girl is sitting on the bed, bedecked in bridal finery, waiting for her brand new husband to come into the room. He comes in, sits next to her, gently lifts her face, he says something corny, she blushes, and they fall to the side, scene blurs. The quintessential suhaag raat scene (for the south Indians, imagine the scene play out with the groom in mundu and the bride with a glass of milk in her hand).

When did the wedding day become all about the first night? What about the rest of the day? The fact that the boy and girl are entering a new phase in their lives? All of that loses importance in the face of the fact that they’ll be getting laid that night (for many them, it would be the first time). For the unmarried ones out there, it’s not mandatory that you have to have sex on your so-called first night! That’s bullshit! Think of it from a practical point of view. You’ll probably be up from about 4 am that day, standing on your feel all day, smiling at thousands of people. How in the world do you expect to enjoy sex when you’re so bloody tired?! Relax. It’s not mandatory. You don’t have to have sex if you’re not ready for it just to prove anything to anybody. Do  it when you’re in a more relaxed state of mind, after all the wedding madness has ebbed.

Of course, this is a completely personal choice. All I’m saying is, don’t get tensed about it. you have the rest of your lives to have sex. It’s ok if you don’t do it on the very first night. There are people who do it on the wedding night itself, and I really admire their patience. I, for one, got a wonderful foot massage on my wedding night. Right then, I knew I’d married the right guy.

Also, the chances of a woman getting pregnant after having sex just once are very less. Unless they're an incredibly fertile couple. 

7)      Stop associating sex with marriage. Period.

So what do you think? Am I being silly here?

Spaceman Spiff is lost

I’m not writing much lately. What I am doing, though, is complaining about it a lot. It’s not even writer’s block. It’s an insult to genuine writers if I call it that. Maybe it’s because of my job. It is so mindnumbingly boring that I can actually feel my brain cells dying, one by one. All I do is copy-paste and fill in mindless spreadsheets with data I care two hoots about. That’s eight and a half hours of my life that I’m never getting back, everyday.

If I dig some more, I could come up with more reasons as to why I don’t write anymore. But I know as well as anyone that those are just excuses. Excuses like lack of time, fatigue, caught up in the drudgery of household chores- but it’s more than that. I don’t know what it is. My blogger friends ask me why I haven’t updated my blog in so long, and I have no answer. Even my mom and dad have started asking me why I don’t write anymore.

It’s not like I don’t write at all. I do. I scribble in my diary sometimes, a few lines here and there. But I think more than not being able to write, I think I have lost confidence in my writing. I start writing a post, and halfway through, I decide that it’s not good enough. And I give it up. Just like that. In fact, when I started typing this post too, I was pretty sure I’ll write a paragraph and then abandon it after that. How could I give up so easily? How could I give up on something that is the very core of me, the thing that defines me, gives meaning to my life?

Maybe I’ve lost it.

There. I’ve said it. It’s out in the open. And now that I’ve actually physically typed it out, maybe I can start to deal with it.