Bane - Lyrics Sample

Sleeping with my demons,
I won’t rest until you’re dead
Bane is my religion,
And evil’s what I spread…

I can’t think straight for a second,
Now my eyes are turning red,
My aim is your conclusion,
I am what’s in your head

Smiling to myself at night
Neither sleeping nor awake,
Rape your own reflection,
Love the demons in your head.

I’m burning up in ashes
Every time I close my eyes,
My mind’s a cemetery…
It buries me long before I die.
(I love these two lines!)

This taste’s that’s in my mouth
Gets so familiar nowadays,
Living on illusions...
I’ve lost belief in faith.

Angry with myself is
Not the way I want to be
Stumbling down the pathway,
Only darkness can I see.

Note: Work-in-progress. I don't mean to brag, but this one has the potential to be a really good one. The song I mean. With the music. I'm taking it slow with this one. Exploring. Discovering. Certainly a topper on my self-expression list. Don't worry though, I'm fine. No e-mails please asking about my health and shit. Hope to see everyone in the summer. Hopefully...

Music will be the death of you....

“Welcome to the jungle baby!” Those were the words which Michael said to Ron just before they got on stage. The big stage; a chance to get a foot in the door. Their manager, Brian, was sure they’d nail it. The important thing was that they believed in themselves. They weren’t just any band playing “run of the mill” music.

Life in this kind of business was tough. They had clung on by the skin of their teeth for over a year. Now they had waded out of troubled waters onto uncharted territory. Kind of like “getting out of the frying pan and into the fire”, but not quite. They were starting to take one thing at a time and live for the moment.

“Remember, only fools rush in”, Ron’s father had told him about his decision to drop out of school and join a band. “I have a gut feeling about this dad. I know I can make it. College is a lost cause anyway.” His dad had just shaken his head and said, “Your music will be the death of you….”
But it was more than he had bargained for, to say the least. They’d almost thrown in the towel. Record companies could be a real pain in the neck. Brian had stood by them through the ups and downs, hard as a rock. Now he’d got them their big break. It was time for some action.

Even though they were almost totally blinded by the bright stage lights, Ron could distinctly feel hundreds of eyes watching them. This was the moment he’d been waiting for all his life. However, they weren’t really greeted by a warm round of applause. The delay in setting up their instruments didn’t make things any better. On the contrary, to rub salt into their wounds, the crowd started booing and passing nasty comments.

Finally the wait was over. They were ready to begin, ready to embark on a wonderful journey which they knew would take them places. As the others launched into the song, Ron felt the confidence and energy surging through his veins. The time had come. This was it. The reckoning day. The moment of truth. Words at the tip of his tongue, Ron reached out to grab the microphone.

He was buried the next day. A technical snag had caused a short-circuit in the wiring of Ron’s microphone. He was electrocuted on the spot; no chance of survival. They say only the good die young. Ronald Evans. He had a heart of gold. Music was the death of him.

Note: This was an exercise we had in my Writing course which required the use of as many cliches as possible in writing an entirely fictional story. Could've been better I guess, but word limits can be a real pain in the ass. There you go again. Cliche! Hope you enjoyed the nonsense!

South Indian Metal God

“I don’t wanna go.” Nikhil. “What??? Why don’t you wanna go?” We, in unison. “No. I mean I don’t feel like it.” Nikhil. “C’mon, don’t be a spoilsport, let’s go.” Me. And everyone else, in turn. September 2004. We were in Mumbai, participating in a “Battle of the Bands”. Just a few hours back we’d lost out to technically sound and better prepared bands. And so our friend was pissed.

Half an hour passed before his next outburst. Walking with his eyes fixed on the ground, he kept muttering stuff. Finally, after ample helpings of “Who needs friends like you…” and “…take me for granted”, endless swearing and a twenty minute walk to a pub, Nikhil decided he had had enough. He started marching back. Anurag, his elder brother, who had accompanied us on the trip, yelled at him as he walked away. Ten minutes later he was back. “I need directions.” We laughed really hard. That was the first and last I saw of his near-psychotic behavior, ever. As we sat in that pub, eight of us at a table for four, Nikhil joined us in our bid to out-sing Axl Rose on “Sweet Child of Mine”. He didn’t drink. He only started to a few months later...

Nikhil kept staring at the girls as I bombarded him with questions; about the music he liked, bands, musicians, etc. At times he took a “break” and patiently answered all my questions. After six months in a school I’d already started to hate, I’d finally found one person who shared the same passion as I. Music. He was a walking-talking “Rock-‘n’-Roll” dictionary. That was Annual Sports Day at school.

We hung out a lot during our school years. He would play the guitar and I would sing. After school Nikhil moved to a University, a good four hours’ drive away. Naturally all plans of forming a band went down the drain. I hated him for that back then. But he made me see a side to him which I hadn’t seen before; someone driven by priorities.

After his Mom took a job in another city, he would stay at my place whenever he came to town. His brother thought my parents were as good as his in-laws. My Mom loved him because he wasn’t fussy about food and was always tidy. We would stay up late to watch TV, listen to our favorite bands, or just discuss “life” in general and in depth. He is the only person I know who can fall asleep in ten seconds flat, if he wants to. He considers himself lucky.

When our band needed a second guitarist, he reluctantly stepped forward. But he was taking an active stance in everything very soon. He rarely practiced. Yet he led the way when it came to ultimate output. Some people called him a “Metal God”. He said he was a rebel. Unfortunately, to prove it, he once decided to wear onstage an outfit that seemed straight out of a 40’s Hollywood movie.

Nikhil always says “In life you must prioritize.” He used to skip trips back to town, often for months at a time, to keep up with readings and prepare for exams. He never exuded maturity. He chose to use it selectively. He was good at advice but he never imposed a decision on me.
Nikhil Rao used to call me “Munna” (“kid” in Hindi). He has a great sense of humor. Everyone said he got it from his Mom. When Nikhil was very young, his Dad passed away. He never spoke about it much. I never heard him complain about a difficult childhood. He was happy with whatever he had.

When I decided overnight to come to Canada, he was shocked, and bombarded me with all kinds of questions to find a justifiable reason. He couldn’t make it to town to see me off when I finally left. He had exams. He still writes long, weird and absurd e-mails which invariably leave a big smile on my face. He says he’s found new “in-laws”.

I never told him, but he was more than a best friend; he was very much like a second brother to me. There are only a few people in life who leave everlasting impressions. Nikhil is one such person in my life. I met the “Metal God” from South India on Annual Sports Day, January 2001.

Note: Anything said about you is never enough my friend.

"Relinquish" is a fancy word for "Lose"

Fall 2004. Average results at the recently concluded Inter-University Youth Festival had left the professors disappointed and us, the music club’s senior members, frustrated. That the drama students had fared better didn’t make things any better. Suddenly, the name of the club, “Harmony”, seemed very inappropriate. It was around this time that our professor in-charge came up with a brilliant idea.

Perhaps, the best way to boost our reputation would be to host an entire musical event in the college itself. Not only would it mean some much needed publicity for the music club, but with the home support, it would enhance our chances of success. It sounded like a good plan. On paper, it was. We got to work.

We spent the next couple of weeks notifying the rest of our members, organizing meetings, collecting suggestions, finalizing dates, and trying our level best not to panic. Our professor wasn’t very keen on letting non-members in, and she didn’t trust the juniors enough to give them any ‘real’ work. So it came down to three of us- me, Chintan and KD. Post-Graduate students would’ve struggled with the work load that was thrust upon us! Wait a minute; weren’t we supposed to be the musicians, the performers, the competitors? Oh well, what the hell…this was going to be fun! Or so we thought.

We met with a professional event manager to get a glimpse of the reality that was ahead of us. And we were not amused by the revelations. The next day, our Principal called us to his office to talk about the proposed event. He told us that the college’s reputation was at stake, and that he expected only the best out of us. Suddenly, we were under pressure. We told our professor in-charge that we needed reinforcements. This time she agreed. Help came in the form of classmates and people whom we knew could work. And organize. And manage. And not panic. Because that was something we were increasingly getting good at.

The new guys were smart and a bit more experienced at managing events. Soon they were handling about fifty-percent of the work. I had heard somewhere that “‘Relinquish’ is just a fancy word for ‘lose’…” We found the quote to be very true. With each passing day, we grew weaker and they grew stronger. They called themselves the EMC. The Event Management Committee.

Very soon they were dictating terms, and even though we were frustrated and often irritated, we knew they had earned every right to do so. They had contacts and were consistently hauling in sponsors, which of course translated into funds. We were now reduced to the role of mere spectators. To top it all, the EMC consisted mostly of close friends, which made matters complicated and intensified simple arguments and disputes. The EMC was now at the peak of its activities. We, at “Harmony”, were left reflecting on how we had relinquished control of our precious event. Or maybe, we had lost it.

We soon realized that we were not built for this stuff. Organizing and managing was not in our blood. We were desperate to salvage whatever little pride there was left. A month before the actual event we ‘officially’ quit, resigned to the fact that this was a lost cause. Surprisingly, none of the EMC members made fun of us. They told us we needed to practice well now. They were the home support. I knew we had made the right decision.

The date of the finals was December 17, 2004. We played well. Afterwards, I thanked the EMC on behalf of the band. The professors didn’t like the gesture. For some reason we were not supposed to acknowledge the organizers’ efforts. I didn’t care. It was worth it to see the small crowd of EMC faces cheering and waving wildly back at us. We won the “Best Band” award. I smiled and thought, “Well, they did their job. We did ours!”

P.S. This assignment was on writing about a job experience....Yeah, right!!!

When getting to class late is good

During my entire first year at H.L. College, I was a nobody. That of course implied that I didn’t know a lot of people either. I was an introvert by nature. About halfway through my second year, things changed.

It was the first week of December that year. 2003 hadn’t really been amazing. I was turning twenty in three weeks. That’s all I looked forward to. Maybe I’d have better luck next year.
“Ronny! You’re late again!” My mother. She said those four words everyday before I left for college. And I tried my best to keep up this “tradition”. My mother just sighed. In Ahmedabad, the bus service wasn’t great. I always opted for an auto-rickshaw. We didn’t have a second car and I wasn’t allowed to drive a two-wheeler.

I fumbled for change as I got out of the auto-rickshaw. Shit. Shit! First lecture was Economics. And the professor wasn’t particularly pleasant towards latecomers. I had begun to wonder, after one and half years in the discipline, whether commerce was really what I wanted to do. So what if I missed the first lecture. I’d catch up. Maybe I didn’t even need the classes. Look for the money. Hurry. Hurry!

At H.L., students had to get inside the main building by 12 p.m. The college authorities locked the front entrance after that. Classes started at five-past. I didn’t even try for the front gates. There was a back entrance which would remain open for a few more minutes. I could still make it. I half walked-half ran to the back. Good. I was almost there.

“Excuse me……..” Who the hell? I turned around. The guy introduced himself as Karan. His goatee accentuated the weirdness of his smile. I knew him from before. He was one of the smarter and academically blessed people on campus. And he was a good drummer. I’d seen him playing at the previous year’s college festival. I admired him. At that instant though, I was screaming “Stupid senior!” in my head. These people were always on the look-out for junior prey, trying to get them to join clubs, help out with the annual festival, etc. “I’m getting late for class, dude.” I said that to him nineteen times. Again, in my head.

“I was wondering if you sing…?” What kind of a question was that? And yes, of course I did. Mostly in my room though. No training, no experience. “Why?” He got to the point. The guys at the music club were thinking of going a bit further than instrumentals at the cultural festival. They needed a vocalist. He’d seen me wearing a couple of my rock ‘n roll tees to college.
“No way man.” “Hey, you could try for the solo event too.” Yeah right. I sang for fun. Not for other people to make fun of me. “Auditions are tomorrow at 3 p.m., upstairs. I’ll see you there.” “But…..?” I was nervous. I was reluctant. I said yes. I made it to class a couple of minutes before my professor did.

I knew I’d forget lines under pressure. And I did. I messed up. I had to start over twice. The supervising professor said I had a good voice. I hated myself. Karan said the rest of the music club was impressed. He said practice would make perfect. Hah! The final gig was in a couple of weeks. I didn’t know whether to be terrified or excited about my first gig. We worked hard. The night before the gig, we practiced on the college grounds till six in the morning. Karan slept in his car because he had to rehearse for another event at 8.30 a.m. We played reasonably well. But the gig was very well received, largely because we were the first complete “rock ‘n roll” act in H.L. ever.

Over the next year we won competitions, played to entertain students, and had a lot of fun. Me and Karan even formed a separate band, outside of college. We made wonderful friends, who shared a common love for music. Karan always encouraged us and inspired us with his energy, his pep-talk. When I look back, I feel glad that he coaxed me to come to that audition. And that I met him partly because I was late for class. I still consider that day to be a major turning point in my life. I started breaking down the walls I had built around myself. Karan made me believe in my abilities. He always said I could do it. I simply believed him.
When I left India, Karan gave me a note which said, “Distances are only present in the physical state.” That’s him. Champion drummer. Philosopher extraordinaire. Friend for life. Karan “Olly” Dangayach.

P.S. Thank you Olly. For always being a friend, and a brother, in need.