Musings: Here she comes now singing "Mony Mony"
Musings: Here she comes now singing “Mony, Mony”
We were friends as kids. Our parents were family friends. That meant that we met fairly often and played and did the things that kids do.
When I went to engineering college in Bangalore I found that he was a hostel mate.
He had many friends and many of his friends became my friends.
One day I went to his room (I forget why) and I found a stranger in the room playing his guitar. "Who are you"? I asked in surprise. "I am Jaidev" he replied. He seemed a nice enough guy and soon we were chatting like old friends.
"Here, smoke this, you will appreciate the music" said Jaidev. "What is it"? I asked. "Dont ask, just smoke" he said and handed me a joint.
The music took on a new dimension. The musical tones seemed to reverberate in my skull. My eyes felt funny. My lips were parched. I went to sleep.
Soon my childhood pal (let me call him `”R”) and I were sharing several joints several times a week.
One day we decided that the hostel as not good enough for us. There was a new wing of the YMCA coming up nearby. We checked out the rooms. They were fab! So we made plans to shift to the YMCA.
However "R" left the room with great regret. One of his hobbies was to draw on the walls of the room using colored chalk. This was obviously after a toke of grass or hash. His friends who dropped in, smoke the peace pipe and added their bit. It soon became a community project. To leave this unfinished work of art really hurt everyone.
The new YMCA hostel block was an "international" block. The only international guys were from Iran. They were the flamboyant guys, with sports cars parked below and two or more lovely chicks in tow at any given time. This was a subject that we discussed continuously with outrage – how their money was corrupting our Indian chicks and
so on.
Anyway, we all decided on a house warming party and "R"s pal, Charan, was the M.C.
The party was a smash hit. It happened to end in my room. When it ended there were a tangle of bodies all over the place lying in drunken stupor. I went and slept in a nearby room.
I had engineering drawing class the next morning at 7.30 am and so I returned to the room briefly to retrieve my clothes. I was out of cigarettes and saw a pack of Wills Kings lying around. There were only a few cigarettes within so I pocketed the pack and left for
class.
After Engineering Drawing we had a half an hour break. It was during this break that I smoked a cigarette that tasted funny. It wasn’t `grass’;. It tuned out to be hash. It’s the first time I attended Math class completely stoned. I laughed and laughed and laughed at the strange characters on the board till the Math lecturer threw me out of the class. I went back to the hostel and slept the effects of evil weed off.
One night I was returning to the hostel when I saw a huge group of guys heading for the terrace. R was also there and I asked him what was happening. He told me that his friend, Rana, had suddenly felt that he was a divine figure and wanted everyone to fall at his feet. I couldn’t believe it. I went up to have a look. It was hilarious! Everyone was bowing and praying while Rana stood, a large blanket cloaking him, with his hands upraised as he stared at the stars.
Soon "R" had completed his three year stint and was leaving. "Where are you going to"? I asked with deep regret. "Oshkosh" he cheerfully told me. He explained that was going to the University Of Wisconsin at Oshkosh.
This was in 1971. It was the time of LSD; of the Beatles and bell bottomed trousers and long, shoulder length hair (like John Lennon). It was the era of Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin; of Creedance Clearwater Revival and Pink Flloyd; of the Rolling Stones.
My last mental image of him is of his walking away, a tall slim handsome figure in his bell bots and long hair.
That was the last time I saw him.
We lost touch after that.
I heard that he had completed his studies in the US and had joined the advertising world.
I heard one day (even before I was in Dubai) that he had taken up an assignment in Dubai.
When I was leaving for the UAE in 1998, my mother told me "Do remember to meet "R" and give him my regards". Sadly, I never acted on her wishes. I really don’t know why.
In August 2002, I was working for a company in Media City. I met a friend of mine who was also an old hand in the ad world of Dubai. "How is "R" doing"? I asked him.
"R" is the most respected advertising executive in the UAE" was his reply.
By a very strange twist of fate I joined a company whose office was in the same building as that of "R"s.
"I`ll meet him tomorrow" I kept procrastinating. Tomorrow never comes, as we know.
One day, I opened the newspaper and saw the headline "Respected City Businessman Dies in Car Crash".
"R” was no more.
Today, I was talking to a close friend of mine in Dubai Media City and the talk turned to music. He loved the Beatles, The Beach Boys etc. I promised him that I would lend him some of my CDs.
When I reached home, I took out the CDs and started playing them.
The first song that played was "Mony Mony".
This was the music "R" used to love. I saw his face vividly and was instantly transported back to the Bangalore of the early 1970's……..to the YMCA, to his college, to his girl friend in those days, to his friends, to ……………………
I have written this spontaneously.
"Goodbye to you my trusted friend,
We have known each other since we were nine and ten.
Together we climbed hills and trees….."
Rest in peace.
Cheers,
Prakash
Note: All names have been changed to preserve their identities.
This article copyright © Prakash Subbarao (E-mail: info@datadubai.com)
We were friends as kids. Our parents were family friends. That meant that we met fairly often and played and did the things that kids do.
When I went to engineering college in Bangalore I found that he was a hostel mate.
He had many friends and many of his friends became my friends.
One day I went to his room (I forget why) and I found a stranger in the room playing his guitar. "Who are you"? I asked in surprise. "I am Jaidev" he replied. He seemed a nice enough guy and soon we were chatting like old friends.
"Here, smoke this, you will appreciate the music" said Jaidev. "What is it"? I asked. "Dont ask, just smoke" he said and handed me a joint.
The music took on a new dimension. The musical tones seemed to reverberate in my skull. My eyes felt funny. My lips were parched. I went to sleep.
Soon my childhood pal (let me call him `”R”) and I were sharing several joints several times a week.
One day we decided that the hostel as not good enough for us. There was a new wing of the YMCA coming up nearby. We checked out the rooms. They were fab! So we made plans to shift to the YMCA.
However "R" left the room with great regret. One of his hobbies was to draw on the walls of the room using colored chalk. This was obviously after a toke of grass or hash. His friends who dropped in, smoke the peace pipe and added their bit. It soon became a community project. To leave this unfinished work of art really hurt everyone.
The new YMCA hostel block was an "international" block. The only international guys were from Iran. They were the flamboyant guys, with sports cars parked below and two or more lovely chicks in tow at any given time. This was a subject that we discussed continuously with outrage – how their money was corrupting our Indian chicks and
so on.
Anyway, we all decided on a house warming party and "R"s pal, Charan, was the M.C.
The party was a smash hit. It happened to end in my room. When it ended there were a tangle of bodies all over the place lying in drunken stupor. I went and slept in a nearby room.
I had engineering drawing class the next morning at 7.30 am and so I returned to the room briefly to retrieve my clothes. I was out of cigarettes and saw a pack of Wills Kings lying around. There were only a few cigarettes within so I pocketed the pack and left for
class.
After Engineering Drawing we had a half an hour break. It was during this break that I smoked a cigarette that tasted funny. It wasn’t `grass’;. It tuned out to be hash. It’s the first time I attended Math class completely stoned. I laughed and laughed and laughed at the strange characters on the board till the Math lecturer threw me out of the class. I went back to the hostel and slept the effects of evil weed off.
One night I was returning to the hostel when I saw a huge group of guys heading for the terrace. R was also there and I asked him what was happening. He told me that his friend, Rana, had suddenly felt that he was a divine figure and wanted everyone to fall at his feet. I couldn’t believe it. I went up to have a look. It was hilarious! Everyone was bowing and praying while Rana stood, a large blanket cloaking him, with his hands upraised as he stared at the stars.
Soon "R" had completed his three year stint and was leaving. "Where are you going to"? I asked with deep regret. "Oshkosh" he cheerfully told me. He explained that was going to the University Of Wisconsin at Oshkosh.
This was in 1971. It was the time of LSD; of the Beatles and bell bottomed trousers and long, shoulder length hair (like John Lennon). It was the era of Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin; of Creedance Clearwater Revival and Pink Flloyd; of the Rolling Stones.
My last mental image of him is of his walking away, a tall slim handsome figure in his bell bots and long hair.
That was the last time I saw him.
We lost touch after that.
I heard that he had completed his studies in the US and had joined the advertising world.
I heard one day (even before I was in Dubai) that he had taken up an assignment in Dubai.
When I was leaving for the UAE in 1998, my mother told me "Do remember to meet "R" and give him my regards". Sadly, I never acted on her wishes. I really don’t know why.
In August 2002, I was working for a company in Media City. I met a friend of mine who was also an old hand in the ad world of Dubai. "How is "R" doing"? I asked him.
"R" is the most respected advertising executive in the UAE" was his reply.
By a very strange twist of fate I joined a company whose office was in the same building as that of "R"s.
"I`ll meet him tomorrow" I kept procrastinating. Tomorrow never comes, as we know.
One day, I opened the newspaper and saw the headline "Respected City Businessman Dies in Car Crash".
"R” was no more.
Today, I was talking to a close friend of mine in Dubai Media City and the talk turned to music. He loved the Beatles, The Beach Boys etc. I promised him that I would lend him some of my CDs.
When I reached home, I took out the CDs and started playing them.
The first song that played was "Mony Mony".
This was the music "R" used to love. I saw his face vividly and was instantly transported back to the Bangalore of the early 1970's……..to the YMCA, to his college, to his girl friend in those days, to his friends, to ……………………
I have written this spontaneously.
"Goodbye to you my trusted friend,
We have known each other since we were nine and ten.
Together we climbed hills and trees….."
Rest in peace.
Cheers,
Prakash
Note: All names have been changed to preserve their identities.
This article copyright © Prakash Subbarao (E-mail: info@datadubai.com)
posted by Prakash Subbarao's Blog at
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