Obituary

The King is dead. The King of Pop that is. None perhaps had dreamt during his heyday that MJ would die the way he did – embattled and embittered. Least of all Michael Jackson himself.

The man arguably created some of the best music the pop world has ever seen. His work also saw him catapulted to stardom that wasn’t probably heard ever before (ah, barring a certain Elvis of course). Records were broken with impunity by the Jackson numbers. His album ‘Thriller’ to this day perhaps holds the record for the highest sales ever. Dangerous and Black or White succeeded Thriller with super sales, albeit criticism that they weren’t as good. I remember all my classmates waiting eagerly for the release of ‘Dangerous’ in the late 80s with such infectious keenness, when I’d not even heard of him!

Michael Jackson’s personal life made more news than his music in the 90s. Or perhaps, his popularity resulted in so much media hoopla about his life. The accusations of pedophilia, the umpteen numbers of legal tangles, the loss of money and almost-bankruptcy filled the pages. While it was only his obsession with his skin-tone (and the hushed multiple plastic surgeries) and the rifts in the family were the only talk of the gossip mills earlier. A make-believe marriage to the King’s daughter, Lisa Mary, didn’t help things much. Lisa went on to reveal later that the couple never had sex (wasn’t that obvious?).

MJ’s death doesn’t come to me as a surprise. Possibly it’s a welcome relief for the wonder who created some of the best foot-tapping music coupled with equally mind-numbing dance moves. Hope his soul has found the solace it never had in its mortal life.

B'day

Expectation turns to trepidation 
The prospect of presents Doesn't excite either 
The eyes squint to see more lines Only to cause further furrows. 
"Party!" I hear the screams
 "NO!" I scream within 
Petrified by not the hangover 
But the clock thats ticking by
 Announcing my entry into the 

New Decade