This Post is a part of Fire Freeze Contest Organised by Indiblogger in association with Close Up. Do post your own stories in that link and as a comment on my blog.If you Like the Post, Please VOTE for it Here!
I was wondering down the roads of my town, heading home after another crappy day of rehearsals for the college fest. When you are not a billionaire kid and you have a passion for guitar, life is hard for you. You dont have ample amount of transport to take you to different places. And public transport is not the greatest mode of communication with a guitar that you love more than yourself.
Lets do a quick recap. Three friends, I make it four, perfect hangout, uncountable number of personal jokes/insults, shitty music, awesome life. Yeah that was me before I grew up and started complaining about public transports and other adult things.
At my first day in the new higher secondary school I had no one to talk too, everyone else from the same school and I was the only one left who had no friends in there. I knew none, absolute zero. everyone wore the uniforms of their previous schools and I could notice 98% of them are wearing the same thing. Only one skinny boy and one well an average kid sat on the last bench. The average looking kid only had a different uniform and there was me, the 2% of the class that were not of the same school. I only had enough courage to go and talk to the boy with a different uniform since everyone else was busy talking among themselves. By the end of the day, both of our names had the same starting alphabet and we had serial roll numbers, me one roll ahead of him. I found my buddy from whom Id copy my paper from! But that is not the story that I am going to tell.
There was this tall skinny guy in our class who was skinnier than a stick figure but well stronger than a psychopath on a serial killing in terms of mental fitness. Ever heard of as cool as cucumber? Well this guy made cucumbers warm with his ability to take things up. Stress was the only word he didnt have in his dictionary. At least at first we thought so. He cracked the stupidest jokes, and laughed himself without even bothering to see who else is laughing. He was the all too easy guy. I knew we had to be friends cause the science thing was giving me nightmares and I had to find a way get the stress out. And what better person will be fit for that than the Ice-Man.
Then there was this popular kid, the most popular amongst the 98% of the mango students. The guy who cracked the funniest of jokes and even we, the minority had to laugh even though we tried not to do so. Someone told me, they were very rowdy group of kids and we should keep a safe distance between them and us. Well, I would not say I totally believe that.
When the freshers welcome came, I brought out my newly bought guitar. It might have been cheap but I tell you that thing got me so much. I had a chance to flaunt it and I did. Everyone in school knew I played guitar. The skinny guy cracked stupid guitar jokes on me now. The popular guy asked if we could jam at his house some day, and we figured out that he played synthesizers. The average guy had no remarkable changes, he was still figuring out brand new ideas about how to sleep inside the class during the boring lectures.
One day I opened the average guys bag and found out there were drumsticks in it. I asked for it and he said he played drums. And there you have it, a perfect school band. Me on guitars, average guy on drums, popular guy on synthesizer and Skinny guy …..well for the lack of places…vocals. One thing about the skinny guy is that he knew his music, whether he could sing or not is a whole different question (
believe me we still have confusion/nightmares) .
The band got formed. We did some crap shows. Once my guitar volume went off during a show. I stood on the stage like crazy mad man in front of hundreds of people. Once the skinny guy was way way off scale. Other time the average guy would just miss the tempo in the middle of an apparently very successful performance. The coolest thing was …we dragged along. Still cracking stupid jokes, this time on each other.
Then came trouble, we fought, we disagreed, and we were not that ready to commit ourselves fully into the band. Hell we didnt even know if that was a band or not. We were just some stupid people playing shitty covers, with no sight of originality. And we ran out of competitions to go into, and suddenly it was 12th standard boards. Everyone got busy and eventually every one of us got into different engineering colleges, and the popular guy left town for a well known college.
This holiday season, three of us got together again, over some drinks. We three almost put our band life behind and decided not to talk about it. Cause no matter how shitty you play when a band breaks it hurts. After a few drinks though it was a whole different story. Disagreements reached fever pitch when the question was asked…. Why did our band break up after all.
There were lots and lots of theories. Some made me go crazy, and some made me feel appreciated. even if I wanted to, I could not write the conversation here cause words were spoken like bullet trains. Lets take up some points though-
Our Music Was Shitty- I was in-charge of composing and choosing covers. That was a blow to my ego. I had to defend. In my defense I said that everyone had mouths and everyone had ears. So it would not have cost to suggest a good song to play or make a composition.
We were way too casual – Hmmm. now I am really confused. Was I being flattered for being a funny guy? Or were the jokes a principle reason behind the break up of the band? I chose to shut up instead.
The Skinny guy was way too much of a critic – There is a reason he is not the cool guy anymore. We thought he was a cool guy because we had not seen his real face till then. He was a critic by birth. He just was cool about everything because he didnt even care about anything that is inferior to his class. And our music was way way inferior. I was happy, you should have seen the skinny guys face. But I controlled it. He was a band member after all.
My gear was bought from Sawan Ka Mela – Yeah I know I did not have anything called guitar gadgets then. I do not even possess them now. But what can I do if they played shitty. If I threw them away, I would have no gear at all. That stupid Sawan Ka mela joke still haunts me.
We also had more like a thousand reasons but the article is getting big and you get the idea. At the end of the night, which occurred at around 5.30 in the morning, we fell asleep promising ourselves that we would not think ourselves as a band now, but we will play music, just for the sake of togetherness, cause really we missed each other, and we missed the stupid jokes.
On my way back home the next day, in the well crowd free train compartment, I stood beside one of the gates just to taste the winds on my cheek and saw the Park Circus cemetery go by. Things like cemetery for some unknown reasons always makes you think. And when I started thinking about the previous night, and finally what I figured out is that
- I have found the friends I have been looking for, once again, and we would play music, and crack shitty jokes again.
- I have lost my band, the reason for me playing guitar, having an interest in music, acting all crazy in the class, all those headbanging, the spirit, the name was gone.
I dont exactly know how to name these emotions, but that state of mind to me was my moment when I found something in a long lost spirit of a broken up band.