In the mid 60’s or thereabouts, I heard a group of pop singers who went by the name of ‘the Jackson 5’. Many years later when I had the facility of a video player I saw them in action live. The youngest among them, was this chubby cute little fellow with an extraordinary voice and a body that for his age and countenance, moved exceptionally well. I found out his name was Michael – Michael Jackson.
For several years thereafter, we did not hear him or of him; the Beatles had invaded the music scene and the entire universe had adopted them as their own.
It was around the mid 70’s that lightening struck and from it emerged this grown up version of Michael Jackson, singing, moving, dancing like he was from some other planet!
Mesmerized by his brilliance in each and every department of music and performance, he changed the very psyche, of not just the kind of music he was making, but also the psyche of the listening audience. Nothing compared to him. He was just this incredible perfection that God could have possibly created in his mercy.
His body moved like a wound up toy machine. Every conceivable action of rhythm and style was incorporated inside his diminutive form, without any blemish. The exhilaration that he provided became synonymous with the ultimate. He was the impossible.
With the greater advent of modern technology and its rather slow percolation into the developing world, we would only get to see or hear him, through great effort made by those that had the privilege of travel. These, purveyors and bringers of good tidings, would carry with them his music and his videos from across the seven seas into our lives. And we the possessors of such rare material became the idols of great attention, simply because we had in our possession, a video of Michael Jackson.
Time passed by. Our own travels became more frequent and we started becoming proud owners of his CDs and videos. They became our most prized possessions. Those who did not get an opportunity to be in similar circumstance looked upon us with awe and gratitude when we would play for them, somewhat reluctantly, MJ music and video. Everyone wanted to dance like him, dress like him, BE him. But no one came anywhere near.
Soon after my accident in 1982, I went to the United States of America for recuperation and consultations with the medical fraternity there on my post- operative condition. It was while I was in New York that we came to learn of Michael Jackson on tour with one of his many concerts that he was performing in. The next one was to be in a city called, oddly, Jacksonville Florida. The show we discovered was on the next day. It was an opportunity we just could not miss. So we boarded a flight and landed up in the morning at Jacksonville, without knowing a soul, without any hotel reservation and without a ticket to the concert. Moving from one location to the other with a friendly helpful cabbie, we landed up in the same hotel that MJ was in, only to be shown the door because the entire hotel and all the floors had been taken up by Mr. Jackson and his massive entourage. Begging and pleading with the management for some space, the kitchen, parking lot, a bench in the lobby, we finally managed a small discard in the corner somewhere, where my brother and I, he accompanying me on this escapade, rested our bodies before we undertook the other more important ordeal – tickets for the show!!
By the afternoon, we discovered ourselves loitering around this massive football stadium, with no clue whatsoever where and how we could get inside this cavernous enclosure to see THE MJ perform.
The walk about seemed endless. After consuming tons of ice sticks and the fizzies in the hot and humid atmosphere, and witnessing countless groups of fans in ecstatic gear and temperament; one particular individual standing out in his peculiarity by trying desperately to warn visitors NOT to go inside, because MJ was the devil incarnate, we finally, minutes before it was gearing up to start, met our savior – the ever reliable tout!! An exorbitant bargain was struck and we were racing up the galleries even as the first strains of the colossal audio system started up.
Our seats were well…comfortable. They were made of cement and were not individual in nature, just a long endless strip that ran around the stadium in uniform fashion. The air was fresh and I thought somewhat cooler than where we met Monsieur Tout and we soon realized why. We were in the last row of the tier at the very edge of this monstrous construction, looking down upon a mass of almost a 100,000 humanity, requiring most definitely, the assistance of a parachute in case we wanted to make an immediate exit!!
With a bit of shoving and pushing we finally were able to seek deliverance – the space to finally rest our posteriors. This unfortunately lasted just a few seconds, for, a huge bang of music almost immediately, tore our eardrums away and a blinding light from the stage on one end, accompanied by the most decibel led roar from 100,000, got everyone on their feet again !! And that is how we remained for the next three hours!! For almost 45 minutes the build up kept us in hungry anticipation and then… almost by magic… He was on stage… NOTHING WAS HEARD THENCE, NOTHING WAS SEEN THERAFTER, NOTHING BUT UTTER... UTTER... HALUCIGENIC MADNESS!!
That was my first introduction to him in person. But it was not the last!!
In the early 90’s on another private visit to New York, the door bell of my room in the Helmsley Palace Hotel rang, and I sauntered up to open it. There as I stood in the doorway, across me, was Michael Jackson! He looked a little surprised as he turned around to those he was accompanied with and in his now well known soft voice gently spoke up – “Oh! Excuse me! I think I have the wrong room!”
I have no recollection of what I said in return, whether I said anything at all, how long I remained in that state and when I closed the door to come back in. But that was him and he had come to the wrong room!!
Later the next day, my friend Mohan Murjani, who was perhaps working with MJ on some project and staying in the same hotel, set up a meeting for me with Michael Jackson and we met and laughed at the previous day’s incident and exchanged pleasant conversation. He was soft spoken, very humble and most polite. Introduced me to his Mother who accompanied him and then I was out of there!!
I never saw him again but when he came to perform in Mumbai at the Andheri Sports Complex, Prateeksha, where I live, shook the entire night with the vibrations of all his most popular numbers booming out from the venue.
An exceptional artist has gone…Someone that created an almost outer world experience for all of us with his art.
When I get back I shall pull out an old birthday party recording of 7-8 year aged Abhhishek, dressed like Michael and dancing to ‘Thriller’.
