Kudremukh – The murder of a whole community.

By Prof. Srinivas R., Dt. 23.10.2015.

Back in 1913, a young geologist of the Mysore Geological Department, rode a mountain pony over some high mountains and ridges of the Western Ghats. It was unexplored forest teeming with wild life. There were only horse tracts which needed the hardiest ponies to negotiate. The young geologist, Sampath Iyengar was working on preparing a Geological Map of the erstwhile Mysore Kingdom. He was my great-grandfather.

As he crossed one of the ridges surrounded by high peaks, he found that his horse’s legs were appearing to stick to the ground and he could feel the horse making an extra effort in lifting its legs up. The ground was not wet or sticky. The geologist realized he was on top of a large deposit of Iron which had magnetic properties. The iron Horse Shoes on the hoofs was being attracted by the rock of the mountain. This was Magnetite Quartzite with a formulae of Fe3O4– yielding the highest amount of the metal when the ore was reduced. Sampath Iyengar was credited with the discovery of Kudremukh. He completed the geological map of Mysore – identifying the various schist belts which had extensive mineralization of several important minerals. He eventually rose to become the first Indian Director of the Department and also Head of the Geology Department of Mysore University. His successors – B. Rama Rao, BP Radhakrishna and Pichamuthu confirmed the extant of these deposits and kept recommending that they be mined.

But it was finally only in 1969, that the Kudremukh Iron Ore Corporation Limited(KIOCL), in a joint venture with Canada Met-Chem started operations. At the outset a plan was conceived which have minimal effect on the environment around. The main ore body was on the eastern side of a ridge just two miles long, and extended to a depth of only a 100 meters along the mountain slopes. It was in the form of Banded Magnetite Quartzite, with alternating bands of Magnetite, Silica and Clay. It was soft enough to be crushed in a mill and the Magnetite separated using a Magnetic separator. The mine was located in mountainous region and to build a road to ply heavy ore laden trucks on would be an ecological disaster. Besides Mangalore Port, the end point for the ore to reach was within 100 kms away and also over a 1000 meters below. So, it was decided to flush the ore and other materials down a pipeline as a slurry where it would flow by the force of gravity. To prepare the slurry, a steady supply of water was needed and for this a dam was built to collect, store and supply water. This, being one of the wettest places on earth, there was no dearth of.  The dam itself – the Lakya Dam, was constructed entirely of the “tailings” – the non-ferrous silica and clay left behind after separating the ore. The dam’s height was allowed to grow as the “tailings” were generated. This is why, at Kudremukh, there are no unsightly mounds of tailings and overburden as in other mines. Much of the overburden rocks were utilized to build up the township which grew around the mines.

The mines continued to work till 2005, when the KIOCL Company finally lost out to those determined to kill the industry. This was a period when various NGOs held several projects to ransom. Many of these NGOs had hidden agendas and were being funded by foreign agencies which were interested in holding up India’s development and progress. Recently such activities by Greenpeace, Ford Foundation, etc have been exposed.Besides, the Forest and Wildlife Conservation Departments too wanted to increase control of their respective turfs. While the ruling Political Party at any time would like to keep the mines going, the opposition would gang up with these NGOs to close it down. The irony would be that when the opposition party came to power in the next election, there would be a volte-face in their ideology and they would prefer the mines to keep going – mainly due to the lucrative incomes they provided – both “above and below the table”. The demand worldwide for steel kept fluctuating and so did the interest in running the mines. Iran, which was to be the primary importer of the ore in slurry or pellet form, had its own internal problems which led to cancellation of their orders. The Canadian Met-Chem partners pulled out due to sheer frustration. The Supreme Court ordered the mines to close down.

Now, all mining towns eventually become “Ghost Towns”. Most mineral deposits are isolated and limited. Eventually, the lode runs out or becomes too thin to be exploited profitably anymore. This has happened at Oorigam, in the Kolar Gold Fields ever since the mines were closed down after the yield and economics proved unviable. The western US states of Arizona, Nevada, Colorado and California have several such mining Ghost Towns. Several of these have been maintained as tourist attractions and many have been used as settings in Hollywood movies. A few of these towns like Phoenix and Denver grew into large cities – not centered on mining, but manufacturing activity.The mining business created Las Vegas too – that capitol of night life, entertainment and gambling casinos.

The tragedy at Kudremukh is not the cessation of mining, but the cold blooded murder of a thriving community. In the 30 odd years that the ridge was mined, about 50 % of the ore had been extracted – indicating the mining could have gone on for 30 more. The mining colony was at its peak, residence for over 5,000 families, including several foreign engineers from Canada, Germany and Australia.  The KIOCL had built over 2,500 dwellings – all with at least two bedrooms and all modern amenities for a full family. A supporting colony of non-KIOCL community of shop keepers, barbers, laundrymen, auto mechanics, domestic helps,etc. came up and thrived. A fifty bed hospital with all medical equipment, two dozen doctors including specialists and gynecological facility was built – several hundred babies were born here over the years. A large Kendriya Vidyalaya (Central School) with nicely built classrooms, halls, library and sports ground provided good education to every child in the community up to High School. A separate recreation center with a very large auditorium was built in the late 1980s and named “Sampath Bhavan” after my great-grandfather.

It was to this “Sampath Bhavan” where I had headed to last week to pay homage to my ancestor. Sampath Iyengar’s large portrait was displayed prominently. I was surprised to know that almost everyone had heard of him. I got the “horse shoe sticking to the mountain” story from the local barber.

But what I saw of the project depressed me greatly. The School had closed down and now weeds had started growing over it. Over 90 % of the very well built houses were unoccupied. The well landscaped gardens had given way to weeds and the forest was moving in rapidly. The roads, without maintenance were potholed. Being a very wet place, with heavy rainfall, grass had grown and deteriorated the concrete roofs of the structures. In fact, most of the 80 odd families that still live there occupy ground floor flats. The Hospital has just one doctor and one nurse. The Sampath Bhavan is mostly locked. From 2005, the whole place has been closing down, the existing KIOCL personnel’s task is to wind down the whole show. At the mining head, all the structures are being demolished – the crushing plants, the magnetic separator and any heavy engineering materials are being disposed to scrap.

There are in fact, two tragedies at Kudremukh. One is the human one of such a significant community being displaced and the other is the wanton waste of infrastructure which cost crores to build. There is an urgent need to revive the township and find a use and a resident population for it. The healthy mountain air provides an ideal rest-cure location for senior citizens and convalescents. At present, Lakya Dam is serving a useful purpose – providing drinking water to Mangalore. It is indeed a pity that when housing is in a shortage, so many houses are being allowed to be unoccupied and deteriorate. The entire township could be used as a training school for Police, Paramilitary or Army troops. A Resident Educational Center – even a University can be set up – especially for courses in Environment, Forestry and Wildlife Conservation. The whole KIOCL area can be converted into orchards for exotic high altitude flora and fruit. The alpine meadows which cover the peaks provide the best grazing grass to produce organic rich milk, while the dense sholas in between provide medicinal plants and herbs. The mining could even be restarted and while it reached its own end, alternatives could be phased in and the mined areas re-greened systematically. One of the important by-products is silica – as “manufactured sand”. Supply of this – which can also be flushed down the slurry pipe, and will eliminate the rampant illegal sand mining on the rivers of the region.

!972-73: CULTURE VULTURING AND ALL THAT Extract from my autobiography: No Sex, Some Drugs and a Lil-bit-o-Rock ‘n Roll.

!972-73: CULTURE VULTURING AND ALL THAT

Like some retiring Tata / Birla Tycoon, Shekar had decided that as we were no longer students, the mantle of ROT Magazine should pass on. Shabbar, Pervez’s younger brother, was selected to edit and publish the college rag which we had started.

Both Shekar and I had taken up jobs in the Advertising Profession. Shekar joined a fledgling Ad Agency promoted by the state Government – MC&A. I joined Aiyar’s Advertising. Both of us initially joined as copywriters but we both branched away – Shekar into Print & Production – his experience in printing ROT had helped. I went into Media & Research.

In 1972, the entire Advertising Industry had just been born in Bangalore. About 20 small units mushroomed, almost all in small two-bedroom houses, to fight for about 25 Crore Rupees of “Billing”. It was Bangalore’s “Cottage Industry”. Not many who were in the job actually knew much about the subject. As I told my daughter years ago: “Why do you want to go into Advertising? It was for guys like Shekar and me who had no other talent than Bullshitting!!” But she retorted: “I will make the money you did not and I will achieve the fame you did not!” Well, eventually she did.

In those days, smoking tobacco was not barred anywhere even in Offices. Executives in the Ad business were expected to be a harassed lot – relieving their work tensions with Cigarettes and Strong Coffee in frequent doses.

The new Ad agencies were even more liberal. Not only was Tobacco Smoking accepted, so too was smoking Grass (Marijuana). Copywriters, Art Directors, Photographers, Research and plain commercial artists and all such creative scoundrels were expected to use “Grass” for their so-called creative output.

That is when Shekar and I met Vijay Issac. He was the Senior Copywriter at MCM, another Ad Agency close by. He would be found walking slowly around the office, dressed in outlandish clothes of his own design, wearing a pair of dark round rimmed glasses, deep in thought and forever either rolling a “Joint” or smoking it up. We only had to follow our nose to reach his office.

It was really the quintessential time of the Ad Agency Business. MCM was handling the newly set up Bangalore Diary, which, besides delivering Milk had a whole range of Milk Products to be publicized and sold. Vijay Isaac’s brilliant idea was to paint up a Mobile Marketing Van like the bus in the Beatles Magical Mystery Tour. So, the bus finally arrived in bright psychedelic colors. The Minister had been invited to inaugurate it.

He was quite perplexed by the color of the bus. He was more perplexed by the Slogan Vijay Issaac had coined – “MILK – THE GROOVY FOOD”.

“Maariya, (Friend)”, the Minister asked his aids around him, “Ithu Yennaiah, Entha banna odedidheyah? (What is this Color Scheme?)” The aides turned enquiringly to the MCM executive, who had the presence to reply “Sir, this is Modern Surreal Art”.

“Aamelai (then),” continued the Minister, “Ithu “Groovy” Yennu?  “Groovy” ge yennu artha?” (What is the meaning of “Groovy”)?

Vijay Issaac was, of course, in Shekar’s place having a “boom” with all of us. So we were startled when a convoy from MCM landed outside the gate in “Government of Karnataka” cars!

I do not know how Vijay explained the word.

We were all in an actively cultural society. There were plays in English and Kannada. I had the opportunity to watch the best of Girish Karnad. There were Seminars / workshops and mock conferences – one of which “Mythri” was a huge success. RETORT, the magazine that we launched ROT against, had with the help of Rotary Club and other social organizations, put up a mock – UN Assembly. Some of us took part as the delegates of Columbia, Venezuela and Bolivia. We had a single point agenda we spoke about – Legalize Marijuana.

Of course, the Chod Gang and Rot magazine did not want to be left behind. For a start, Shekar thought up a “Variety Entertainment Show” at the Ravindra Kalakshetra. It could seat 1,500 and had a large stage. The booking fee was only a few hundred rupees. There was no sound or lighting this had to be done by hired professionals. It was at Karnad’s play – Hayavaadahana, where we met Paresh & Srinivas, two budding Theatre Enthusiasts who had specialized in Stage Craft. They had divided the stage into two parts – a front stage and a “shadow projection” back stage. There were no props, but by sheer stage lighting all the panoramas like cities, villages, rivers, winds etc. were created. Paresh and Srinivas offered to contribute the whole Stage Lighting and Sound as it would be a learning experience for them.

The event was christened “Nutshell” with the bye line “Come on NUT, shell out five bucks yaar”. This meant that at Rs. 5 there would be a maximum gate collection of Rs.7,500 only. Every cost had to be met within this. Paresh had created the Shadow Screen stage. Shekar and I watched with interest and admiration how the team set up – working through the night and most of the next day. There were no computer controlled light mixers those days. Behind each spot or flood light sat one of the team – manually operating it and changing the color filters.

The show opened with a closed curtain. Muthu, the Bob Dylan man, came to one side of the stage to sing “Blowing in the wind”. Shekar had half an idea of dressing up in a Gorilla Suit, Monkeying across the stage and grabbing Muthu off his seat, mid song and dragging him across to the other end of the stage. This part of the script was not supposed to be known by Muthu. But it did not happen, perhaps we did not get the Monkey Suit. Or perhaps, we did not want to offend the future Ambassador to Uzbekhistan.

The curtain lifted to a pitch dark stage. A deep chant of OM followed by some Sanskrit slokas came on as the Dawn sun appeared on the screen. As it got brighter, it revealed the silhouette of the most lissome Renuka Rao, then all of a blooming 19 years old. She sat in a classic yoga pose. As the forestage also got brighter, it revealed another young group seated also in a yoga pose. The girls were Meera, Pushpa and Smitha. The guys were Bal, Sam and Parvez. Suddenly, the music changed to a fast disco beat and all got up to dance and jive to the music. Renuka Rao, danced behind the screen, her sensuous curves highlighted by her tight jump suit, Paresh’s Team creating multiple, multi-color shadows of her body swaying – larger than life.

Renuka Rao was the ruling Diva of those days. Tall, dark, with flashing large eyes, sharp features and a perfectly proportionate figure. She often wore Jump Suits as she rode a very masculine 250cc Jawa Motorcycle - usually at 100 kph. To the male population of Central, St. Joseph and other colleges, she was known as “Dynamite”. She was formidable. And she still is – if you have not worked it out, I refer to the Most H’nble Member of Parliament, former minister, present firebrand, TV show favorite – the still formidable in both size and personality – Mrs. Renuka Choudhary!

The curtain abruptly closed – in fact the whole event was rather abrupt surprising the audience at each turn. There was no MC. Next Babu Joseph and Ramesh Shottam – the two Human Bondage members who were around, came on to do a few songs with an acoustic guitar and a Jew’s harp. They played a kind of Ragaa-fied fusion version of “Route 66”.

The curtain opened again to present Prasad Bidappa’s Fashion Show. Today, crowned as the Sultan of Style, Prasad was at that time just stepping into his Fashion career. He had been told there were no funds for clothes, make-up and models, but Prasad had got a dozen of the prettiest girls from Jyothi Nivas College, trained and choreographed them to come on stage and model – their own clothes. He even helped with their make-up. The girl’s Green Room was placed “out-of-bounds” to all the rest of us and we had to enviously watch an androgynous Prasad Bidappa freely flitting in and out of the girl’s Green Room. Later Prasad also convinced all of them to give these same clothes to the boys to model them in the “Mock” Fashion Show! Prasad also played a part in my “Multi-media” version of Herman Hesse’s “Siddhartha”.

The interlude between the two Fashion Shows were two local Anglo Indian Bands which played, fancifully named “Slaughterhouse Rebellion” from Tannery Road and “Fatherland Front” from the City Station Railway Colony. They almost did not play with one band accusing the other of stealing their drum set, while the other rebutted that they had stolen their drummer! Shekar & I solved it by telling them to both play the event on the same gear and break each other’s head after they got off stage. The show ended with all the hairy guys wearing skirts, minis, hot pants, bikinis etc. in the “Mock Fashion Show”. Dressed in full “drag” and drawing more gaffs from the houseful crowd. It was a true ROT success – totally meaningless and pointless!

Vijay Issaac, who had seen the show was very impressed with the enthusiasm and organizing ability of Shekar and the Gang. He wanted to embark on his own project. At that time, all of us culture-vultures were on a literary fad. Aldous Huxley, Herman Hesse and Ayn Rand were judiciously carried around in our bags, if not actually read. Vijay and I decided to present and produce Hesse’s Siddhartha. We went to my mother to tell her our decision. As a MA in Literature, we expected her to have heard of Hesse.

“It is an obscure book from the 1920s when Europeans were groping with the concepts of Eastern Spirituality. Hesse got all the character names mixed up between Vedic and Buddhist epics. Why don’t you do something traditional like Kalidasa?” But when we explained that the whole book would be narrated on stage in Dialogue, Monologue, Music, Dance and Stage craft, she promised all the help we needed – starting with the entire multi-media screen play and script.

But Siddhartha was a rather long term project. The Script had to be developed for each media – even for the Stage Craft team – in which again Paresh and Srinivas and their Team helped us. Music had to be composed and recorded. Dances had to be choreographed. And, there was casting and practice for a rather long period. Besides, our immediate energies had to be diverted for ROT’s “THURSDAY”.

Gurdeep Singh came from one of the prominent Sikh or Sardarji families of Bangalore – prominent Auto Tyre Dealers. Very impressed with “Nutshell”, Gurdeep wanted to organize a Woodstock like Festival with several Bands playing. It was to be open air. At first we objected and told him. There was no suitable ground unless we were prepared to de-weed and clean an open space. Notified grounds were charging the moon. You could not price the entry fee more than Rs. 5.There was really no sound of the power and quality we needed for such a show. But he insisted and told us, “Never mind, I am putting in Rs. 10,000 for you all to get things going”. So we did. Tragically, Gurdeep died in a road accident a few years later.

We selected a small hockey field, which belonged to St. Joseph’s College. There was no shade, it was dusty and dry. But it was just off MG Road and very central. On a slight rise at one end, I could put up a stage and the PA Systems. I picked up all the available 12” Speaker Boxes from Ajantha, Mercury and two more sound hirers from Chandni Chowk in Shivajinagar. These I arranged in two huge pyramids 12 feet tall. They were powered by a dozen Valve Tube Amplifiers of World War Vintage. The Pyramids of speakers rattled and swayed dangerously when the volume was turned on, I had to prop them up with bamboo poles!

Shekar had called the event “THURSDAY” after the day of the scheduled show. It was the only day the School / College did not play Hockey. As the day neared, it became clear that there was a lot of excitement among the bands. All wanted to play. The Spartans and Human Bondage wanted payment and special time slots. We did not want to get entangled with all this and decided to appoint outside “officials”. I went to IIT, Chennai and got Kichu / Krishna as MC. My sister Pinny, then in Jyothi Nivas College, was appointed PRO to the Bands, and her totally sober friend, Solomon was appointed Program Director.

The day before the Event, the “People” a truly avant-garde hard rock band from Mumbai, landed up. They had come with an exotic Drum set, imported guitars, several stage amps, and percussion instruments and players. And, the Band had landed up with a huge quantity of very good Hashish. My sister received them and guided them to their accommodation at Friend’s Rest House, near Brigade Road. One of the Band pulled out a small alter and lit up a few incense sticks, before lighting up the first “Chillum”. By the third pipe, my sister had gone fully asleep and abandoned her PRO duties.

The arrival of the “People” was indeed fortunate. Now, we had good gear on stage. The band was led by Neil Chattopadhya, half-brother of Romulous Whitaker, the famous herpetologist. Neil had told me, “Chod I’ll be dropping an acid trip before I start playing”. All the Bands turned up. The only one missing was Nanda from Delhi. We had sent him the cash too. But, instead he sent us 10 doses of LSD. A dozen of us had our first “Acid Trip”.

Through the 12 hours of “THURSDAY”, from 10 am, the bands kept playing. Our MC got too high too soon and retired, but Solomon kept the show fully in control, ruthlessly slashing out even a prominent band. At about 2 in the afternoon, I noticed it slightly waning. Everyone was huddled wherever they could find a little shade from the blazing sun. I heard a snake-charmer passing outside on Primrose Road. He was a familiar figure in town, I knew he was from Saharanpur in UP. I collared him on the road and asked him to come in and play his “been” or pipe which is somewhat similar to a Scottish Bagpipe. “No money and don’t take out your snakes on stage” I told him.

He came and filled up a good part of an hour – even jamming with Neil and the “People”.

The next day it became clear that the show was indeed a total financial loss. About a thousand audience had come – about half of them gatecrashing over the very porous boundary. Gurdeep could not be repaid. We did not even have funds to send the “People” back to Mumbai, who had by now, blown up all their own cash.

By evening, the situation had become acute. The band had, in fact, been very good with us. Someone suggested: “Why don’t you go somewhere up Tumkur Road and see if any Lorry will take them to Mumbai?” We collected a couple of cars loaded the “People” and all their stuff. At a Dhaba (Roadside Eatery for Lorry Drivers) we found a group of three Lorries heading for Mumbai, we got success.

“Kitna paise deyenge? (How much will they pay?)” asked the Lorry Driver. “You’ll get your cash at Mumbai, but till then you can smoke all the “Charas” (Hashish) you want!” I told him.

A few days later Neil called us to thank us for the lovely journey he had with the Lorry Drivers who plied them with food and booze along the way and did not take anything from them!

It took me months and lots of expense to get “Siddhartha” going. Hesse’s original book had to be shredded into different parts. There were long boring soliloquies and monologues which had to be divided into two. We had decided to have two Siddharthas – one forestage and one behind the shadow screen. One was the individual and the other his alter ego! At each stage, my mother helped me develop the script. I had decided that Suresh & Ramesh Shottam with Babu Joseph – the core of the Human Bondage would compose all the music. The music was recorded at the FEBA Studio – a Christian part of an American Broadcasting Agency. Half way through the recording, the Human Bondage dropped a bombshell on me. They wanted to fly out immediately to Mumbai to Jam with Jimmy Page and Robert Plant of the Led Zepplin. I had no choice but to buy their Air Tickets – which cost me a fortune. But it was Prem Naidu of Hot Rain who actually got to jam more with Page and Plant at the Raspberry Rihnorsorous a disco as he was already there for the Simla Contest Finals.

Next came the casting. All the part roles and “extras’ fell into place easily. Meera was to do a cameo of “the girl at the well who tries to seduce Siddhartha” to some exotic lighting and a five minute flute composition by the Human Bondage. It was perhaps, the first “item number” on stage. Meera drew all the ooohs and aaahs for this performance. Parvez got to play close friend Govinda, Pandu played Gautama, Siddhartha’s son from his liaison with Kamala, the courtesan. Prasad Bidappa was Vasudeva, the old boatman, who ferried people across the river and gave them “bol-bacchan and gyan” (a lecture in philosophy). Ozzy Prakash – the only Anglo-Indian we knew who did not carry the typical Anglo-Indian accent, was to be the Narrator. But like any Bollywood production it was the lead actors which presented complications.

Uday Mitra and Ravi Rao, both from Centrals, were selected to play the two Siddharths – both were tall, handsome and had almost the same low baritone voice. But the decision was – who would be in front and who would be behind the shadow screen? Uday, being slightly more photogenic was awarded the front, but many felt it could have been reversed – especially Ravi Rao’s fans of the band – Void – the band that lost (unfairly, according to Void fans) the Estrella Beat Contest the year before. (My band Stoned Package had won a couple of consolation prizes)

Vijay and I knew that Renuka Rao was seriously gunning for the role of Kamala, the courtesan. As Director and Producer both of us were apprehensive. I was quite intimidated by her ever since she gave me a “lift” on her 250cc Jawa motorcycle to Centrals – ripping at 100 kph. The role went to Azra, a very beautiful, fair girl who had never been on stage. In fact, she had only come with a friend who had offered to do Kamala’s costumes. Vijay spotted her, decided and convinced her to do the role.

It was at that time that the movie “Siddhartha” had come out. It had Sashi Kapoor and Simi Grewal in the lead roles and the movie also had some steaming hot sex scenes, where Simi became the first Indian actress to do a “topless” role. One of our friends (I think it was Akumal Ramachandran) had got in touch with Zul Velani, the director of the Movie and told him about our project. Zul visited us at our rehearsal and also came for the Show.

The rehearsals were held in the old hall of The Brothers of the Holy Cross, a Seminary just next to Bishop Cottons Girls School. The Irish Brothers there were the most liberal kind, allowing many youth groups to use the hall and turning a blind eye to the young people’s small indiscretions – like smoking Grass. Earlier, the Pace Setters used to practice there. In fact, it was Bairam, the Bass player who got us the permission.

After the show, Zul Velani congratulated us and said with all sincerity: “You guys did much better justice to the script than us. We had to commercialize it a bit and do it in a Filmy way.”

“But what about the fuckups, Sir?” I asked him, “There were at least three when the whole audience went up in derisive laughter?” But Zul assured us that this was bound to happen considering we were doing things for the first time.

The first fuckup was in the “love scene”. In our version, Kamala leans back on an ornate “Diwan”, in a state of reasonable undress. Siddhartha moves in slowly, leans over her and freezes in to what appears as a deep kiss, while the Human Bondage’s music and Paresh’s light play go into a three minute long orgasmic frenzy of song and mood lighting. Shekar and I had scoured the whole city of all antique shops to get the “Diwan” – the only prop we used - till we found it and conned the owner to lend it to us free: “There will be photos of it in all the newspapers next day”, we promised him.

The daily practice of this scene had taken its toll on Uday Mitra. “What shit torture is this Chod? I’m supposed to just lean over her and not kiss her!” he told me, “On the final day, I’ve bloody  well decided to really smooch Azra good and proper at the show”. In the actual scene, it started off well enough, but instead of freezing into a pose, the couple were seen struggling, Uday pinning her down firmly, Azra struggling and flaying her legs – only part visible to the audience. Many in the audience had caught on to this departure from the script with great amusement. As the scene dragged on with the 3 minute music piece, several giggles started, then more guffaws, then gut holding laughter, till the audience were rolling in the aisles as the (actually very good) musical interlude reached its orgasmic climax.

When the curtain came down finally after the three minute musical interlude, a furious Azra stormed off stage. It took two joints and five minutes of cajoling before she went back on. But after that she went back onstage and acted like a woman possessed; which also impressed Zul.

The second fuckup was the “boat”. Paresh had in fact, advised us that he would create the illusion of a boat and travelers moving across a river, but Shekar thought we must have something more realistic which could also be used for practice. We got a large door and put large Ball-bearing wheels on it. It was supposed to be pulled by ropes from either end of the stage by two helpers. On stage, it was a disaster. The Stage Help - Stage Right pulled when he should have left, the Helper - Stage Left – did the opposite. The Boat did not synchronize with the projection of a real boat which Paresh had projected on the screen. The apparatus moved in violent jerks till it made both Parvez and Prasad tumble off drawing a huge laugh from the entire audience.

Ozzy Prakash, the narrator, had been dressed in a white dhoti and made up with a white flowing beard. It was made of cotton and stuck on Ozzy’s face with spirit gum. He had to come to the extreme front corner of the stage and read out his parts. None of the actors used mikes – the acoustics of the hall were very good. Paresh from the lighting crew had wanted that there were scenes / parts in total darkness. This left Ozzy with no light to read his script. At the last minute someone gave him a Tea Saucer with a Candle on it. Ozzy had to hold his script in one hand and the burning candle in the other.

“HEY OZZY!” came a shout, suddenly, from the topmost corner of the upstairs balcony, “HEY OZZY! YOUR BEARD IS ON FIRE MAN!”

Without batting an eyelid Ozzy shouted back “THANK YOU MAN”, pulled off the already flaming “beard”, threw it down and stubbed the flame out with his bare foot. Then he turned to his script and continued.

But the uproarious laughter from the full house drowned him out completely.

Ghost, Funny Stories and Plain Tales from the Cabaret: Extract: No sex, some drugs and a lil-bit-o Rock ‘n Roll

Tale 1: THE LEGEND OF THE SMOKING GRAVE:

Lourd Raj and Noel Welcome were Cult figures right far back from the 1970s. They were the “Nawabs” who had their own “Durbar” like “Mehfils” – a circle of friends who got together to smoke “Ganja” (Marijuana). Lourd’s “mehfil” was on the Parade Ground just above the old M.G. Road. Today, the scenery has changed, thanks to the “Bengaloru Namma Metro”. Noel Welcome’s “mehfil” was in the Austin Town Park. At each of these, their respective followers would land up measuring up to two dozen each. Every Evening. Putting in their attendance even better than they would at their jobs, college or school. In full swing, there would be as many as 3 “chillums” going round 20 odd smokers, with the “Nawab” sitting ruling the “durbar” like an Oriental Potentate.

My friends and I, of course had our own “mehfils/durbars”. There was Barry’s Garage and Shekar’s Place. But we often went to join Lourd’s “Mehfil” on M.G. Road, It was just opposite “3Aces” a restaurant / night club and the newly formed “Human Bondage” Bangalore’s Iconic first Band were performing there. The “mehfil” was accessed through a rough hole in the hedge and barbed wire fence. There was negligible noise from the traffic on M.G. Road in those days and we could hear the Band perform right across the street without having to buy our way in.

Noel Welcome was in Clarence School with me, one class junior. But every Friday, Noel, Tony Prakash & I were regulars on the weekly “caning” line up for corporal punishment dished out by Mr. Flack, our disciplinarian Australian Principal– we three always accumulated the maximum black conduct marks in a week. Later, Noel took up to music had a Band for some time and eventually joined the Cabaret Hotels. He had a long history of Marijuana and Alcohol usage and eventually passed away due to cirrhosis. I got to take Noel’s job in Revolving Hotel when he had become too sick to play.

Noel’s “mehfil” had around a dozen regulars who all hero-worshipped him and called him “Maam” in Bangalore Slang which loosely meant “elder uncle”. They still met up in their old adda, mourning him with booze and grass. One evening, a month after the burial, the gang decided to visit his grave close by in the Hosur Road Cemetery. They assembled around the grave solemnly exchanging their stories of Noel over drinks and smokes. Just as they got up to leave, one of them suggested:

“Let’s leave a boom for ‘Maam’.” So, with deep devotion and affection, the prepared a clean “chillum” of Ganja, put a “Saafi” or filter cloth around the mouth, and stuck it into the grave, which was still just a mound of earth, the gravestones yet to be placed.

Early morning, next day, one of the guys had gone to the Grave. He must have been “turkeying” for an early morning boom. He arrived at the grave and found the chillum still stuck into the mound with the “saafi” still intact, but the “chillum” was empty – only a bit of silvery ash remained at the bottom. “GHOST!!” He though in terror and ran to inform the rest of the gang – who first accused him of bluffing and smoking up the “chillum”, and when he denied it accused each other of doing the same, till it became clear that none were involved.

“Let’s all go today evening too and keep another “chillum” after swearing on Noel’s grave that none of us would smoke it. We all come back together at the earliest tomorrow morning and check this thing out”. They did and returned next morning to find the “Chillum” smoked again without being moved from where they had put it! The story had spread and another friend decided to conduct an experiment without informing the others. He went to the grave and planted a filled “Chillum” and then covered it with twigs and dried leaves in a random fashion, but which he noted and remembered. Next morning, when he returned, the twigs and leaves were exactly where he had placed them – but the “Chillum” was smoked clean!!!

Now, I do not guarantee the veracity or truthfulness of this story which was related to me by Ramesh the Drummer. Raju (Napoli) tells me that Ramesh is a great fibber and most of his stories are fiction. I am quite sure the next one about Raja (Shorty) Fernandez is also a big fib, but they are all too good not to relate.

Tale 2: STOVE-BUCKET RAJA:

Raja is a naturally very likeable person. He had the natural jolliness of the short and plump. On stage he was a great entertainer always in a prankish banter with the rest of the band, the Dancers and the Customers too. The dancers particularly liked him.

Dancers, were unlike the musicians, on three month contracts and were rotated between other cities having Cabaret – Hyderabad, Mangalore, Pondicherry, Chennai and Kochi. Raja had a spare room in his house in Gun troop Colony. He would offer this to one of the girls as accommodation for the period of her contract in Bangalore. The girl would probably come with just a suitcase, so Raja would donate to her some basic living gadgets like a Stove, a Bucket and a Mug and a few utensils. When the dancer had finished her contract and was leaving for the next, Raja would give her the Stove and Bucket telling her “I’m sure you’ll need it when you reach the next place.” The girl would, of course, gush with gratitude and even more affection for Raja.

In a few days, he would again give the room to the next Dancing girl from the new batch. Again he would give her a Stove, Bucket etc. for her use. This had happened several times and one day, Raja asked Ramesh the Drummer to the market to a shop.

“The usual,” Raja told the Shop Keeper.

The stop keeper took out One Stove, One Bucket, One Mug, One cooking vessel and gave it to Raja who paid him. But he also asked Raja, “What is this Raja? You come regularly every three months and buy these things. What happens to them?”

From this incident Ramesh the Drummer named him “Stove Bucket Raja”.

  

Tale 3: INDIA’s FASTEST LEAD GUITARIST

One day, I ran into Ramesh the Drummer just outside Sound Glitz on Brigade Road, This was a few years back. He was with another, a Bengali much younger than us. I recognized him from the Posters which had been displayed around the music Store, featuring “Parineet Gosh – India’s Fastest Lead Guitarist”.

Ramesh introduced us: “Parineet, this is Professor Srinivas – he is one of the senior Guitarists of Bangalore”, and then to me “Chod, this is Parineet. He is India’s fastest Lead Guitarist”.

But then he took me aside and said:

“Chod, ivannukku romba sooth kolluppu. Nee thaan avanai shooth adikonom” (Chod, this fellow has too much head weight. Only you can set him right).

So I told Parineet that I would like to hear him play. We went in to the Music Store and connected up a Guitar and Amplifier.

Parineet took off on a long riff, playing around 240 notes a minute. It was in Key but meandered between arpeggios and chromatics rather without connection.

When he finished, I told him, “Parineet that was very good and really very fast.” Then I added:

“Parineet, do me a favor. Can you repeat what you just played – same notes, same riff – at half the speed you did just now?”

He was first non-pulsed by my request, but any way bravely took up the guitar. He started, fumbled, stopped, started again and finally gave up, when I told him “Doesn’t matter, It’s OK”.

Once outside Ramesh told me: “That was good Chod. I owe you a gift.” Unfortunately, at that time I was not drinking or smoking.

Tale 4: AYUDHA POOJA AT OMAR KHAYYAM

Every business, Every Hindu –owned Business as well as many Non-Hindu Businesses celebrate Vishkarma / Saraswathi and Ayudha Pooja on the Ninth day of Navaraathri or Dusserah. It is a day to worship your business and all the implements, the devices you use and even your work place.

Even a Cabaret Hotel like Omar Khayyam on Brigade Road had to have a pooja. It was owned by Mr. Ranganathan, but had the backing of the former Don Muththappa Rai. Both were devout Hindus.

With so many businesses and domestic houses wanting to do the same thing and buy the same provisions, everything was at premium – sweets, coconuts, flowers, fruits, Banana Leaves and Stalks, vegetables too. The biggest shortage was Brahmin Priests or Poojaris who could recite the necessary Sanskrit / other slokas and perform the rituals.

Mr. Ranganathan was worried. He called us together at the end of the Cabaret Show and asked for help.

It was Ramesh the Drummer, who immediately responded “Sir, our Chod – Srinivas is a Poojari – he knows all the prayers” (which I actually did not). He agreed as there was no other choice.

“How will you do the Pooja?” he asked me, “What will you need?”

I asked for a sheet of paper and a pen and started noting down a long list. As Mr. Ranganathan watched the list grow in length and expense, he remarked “Now, I can see you are a real Poojari” (which I was not).

I have always been “Ritual” if not Religious. I recite the Vishnu Sahasaranaamam as often as possible. I find that it is an excellent exercise in Vocalization, Melody, Meter and Diction – very useful for me as a singer. I also have a book with several poojas and slokas, which I use to read the necessary ones on Ganesha, Saraswathi Pooja, Krishna Jayanthi and even Aavani Aatam which coincides with Raksha Bandhan and I change my Brahminical Holy Thread every year. (The old one would qualify as the dirtiest length of yarn).

I reached the hotel on my cycle with a bag and a small bunch of grass (No. holy grass - Darbai). I had decided not to do a “homa”. I found that all the items had been arranged on the stage, flowers, fruit, two lamps and even a low “mannai” or stool for me. I had bought my 9 yard “Panchakachcham” Veshti, and I retired to the back room and had a bath, put on my namma and draped the Veshti in orthodox style. The mike, the same which we sung through every night, had been put in place so I could squat and read the slokas. Everybody accepted the incongruity that the same stage, where women gyrated and stripped just the night before, was the venue of the pooja.

I did the pooja with a Ganesha sloka, a Lakshmi Stotra and the Sahasaranaamam. At the end I took the “Aarti” plate – with burning camphor around all the assembled guests.

All the Dancers of Omar Khyaam and many from all the hotels on Brigade Road – Chin lung, Basco, Sona Greens, Night Queen had landed up. They had heard that I was doing the pooja. I distinctly heard one of the women tell another:

“Paar Di, Ithulaiyun thaan Rock & Roll” (See, even the slokas he is reciting like Rock and Roll.)

Most of these wonderful ladies of the night would not have gone for such a pooja if they could avoid it. When the “Aarthi” plate came round, they would throw in only a few rupees or coins nominally. But when I took it around, they had decided “after all, our Chod / Srini only”, and I was showered with Fifty and Hundred Rupee notes. I collected around Rs.1, 000/-.

Mr. Ranganathan was there too, with all his patrons including the Don’s henchmen. He was very happy with my performance.

“So, Poojari Sir, “he asked, “What is your Gurudakshina? (Payment?)”

“Sir it’s normally only a Hundred and one Rupees and a Dhoti”, I told him, “but you can forget the Dhoti and give me Beer instead”.

Mr. Ranganathan was dumbstruck and dumbfounded!!

Tale 5: CONFUSED MOVIE STORY

Johnny Stanislaus is another very nice friend from this period. With a very nice voice, Johnny would usually open the show with his melodies, before the band took over for the “Blues”.

So he had another job when he used to sing in Omar Khayaam (not there today). The old Opera Cinema Theatre (still there) was just next door and Johnny had the job of Projector Operator. He would load the Projector with some reels and as they ran he would come down the steps from his projector room and pop across the wall in to Omar Khyaam and do his few songs and go back to his post.

It did not always work out very well. The Opera screened mainly B-Grade movies, mostly Malayalam with lots of titillating scenes. Each movie was packaged in more than a dozen reels in Tin Boxes, with their serial marked. Johnny usually spliced together 4 / 5 reels and loaded it on the projector. But sometimes, in the darkness of the projection room and his hurry to go down to Omar Khayaam for his singing session, he would mix up the reels.

Now these B-grade and other movies which were screened in Opera, had complicated plots with lots of characters and sub-plots. At the end of the show, you would see the audience coming out fully confused, shaking and scratching their heads, wondering where the story started or ended and what was the middle!!!

Tale 6: REVOLVING HOTEL:

Perched on top of a drab 5 – storied Building on BVK Iyengar Road, just across from Napoli was Revolving Hotel. When it was first built in the late 70s, The Hotel actually revolved. The guests were seated on a round turn table that turned a whole circle in about a half hour. The building, was at one time, one of the highest structures and the hotel offered a panoramic view of the city. But in time, the revolving machinery broke down, the glass paneled windows were replaced by plywood and two rows of seats – much like a Spanish bull ring, encircled the circular stage in the center.

The stage had been remade a bit so that a Bank of lights illuminated the dancer. The lights were mostly “Black Light” or U/V Lights. These hid all the blemishes on the dancer’s skin and even her true skin color while highlighting the garish make up, sequins and decorations on whatever little costume she was wearing. There was a small wall fan near the top, with a switch.

Once, when Joshua Alexander (Joe) was playing, there was a senior Dancer who gave a lot of trouble to the Band. The Band could not do a thing as long as she had a relationship with Malhotra, the owner. She would saunter on to the stage, usually late with the music already playing, preen herself and switch on the small fan before reluctantly starting her dance. Joe fixed it by opening the fan’s cover and bending the four plates flat so that it did not actually blow any air. The Dancer never figured why the fan did not cool her down – especially when Joe would launch into the most punchy, fastest song and make her sweat!

Joe also fixed the one elevator in the building. He slowed down the speed at which the elevator ascended from the ground to the fifth floor. In the event of a Police Raid, we were quite sure no Bangalore Cop had the physical energy to storm up five flights of stairs like a commando. No, he would take the “lift”. The lift doors would close leisurely, the lift would ascend slowly – slower than even the first lifts of the 19^th. Century. At the top floor, the door would open as lethargically as possible. Now, on the Ground floor, we always had a “Watchman” in uniform to guide customers in. In one corner was a secret switch on the floor, which the watchman had to press with his foot. Upstairs, in the Dance Hall a red light would start flashing for two minutes. This was our signal that a Police Raid was on! The girls would disappear into the back rooms, we would stop the music and put down our instruments and go and sit in the customer gallery most innocently!!

At Revolving, the Band consisted of Joshua (Joe) Alexander on Lead, Yadav on Drums, Johnny Stanislaus on Vocals and me on Bass. We were all appointed with regular salaries (pitiably little) with various small benefits – like Employees State Insurance and also had ID Cards endorsed by the Police as we always came back very late at night. The ESI Insurance came in helpful when the Cabaret closed. Over 3 months I collected Rs.10 a day from this scheme.

The other member of the Band was Vineesh Venugopal. Joe used to be often busy in recordings and other gigs – with Steve and the Unknowns, so we had needed a substitute. Primarily, I liked him because he grew and maintained the long hair of the Rock Guitarist – like me. Vineesh is one of the best Rock players I have met. I learnt a lot from him too.

At that time, I was playing in another Hotel too – Napoli for the newly added 5.30 PM Show. As the whole Cabaret business was heading towards its final demise, many Hotels had decided to milk the last dregs and added extra shows. Robert, who had a day job in Reynolds, could not get away till at least 6.00 pm.  Manuel, as Band Leader in Napoli, put me in as a substitute for the 5.30 PM Show.  In fact, this was my second opportunity to substitute for Robert. He had had a small accident and fractured the last two fingers of his left (fret board) hand. Manuel insisted that I would be the substitute and for the three months I substituted this period, he helped me to get confident with any music – especially Indian music. He helped me accompany Ms. Aruna Srinivas, an expansive large singer for her Telugu Songs and Siddaraju the male singer for the Kannada Songs. Kuppuswamy, the bass guitarist would also help me along. He helped me learn to play “Mehabooba” from Sholay Movie for the Oriental and supported me in all the Western Rock Music I played.

But at 6.50 PM I had to leave for my regular job at Revolving. If Robert had arrived by this time, I would hand over the Guitar to him. If he hadn’t, I would give it to Manuel who would continue the song in the same way Shorty Anand did when I came across him in Bosco’s three years before. Manuel would give me Rs.25. It was my substitute payment. I would leave Napoli and go down the stairs – to a cubby hole wine shop. There I would buy a “quarter” or 180 m.l. of booze, pour it all in a glass, pour in an inch of water and glug it all down in one long “Glug. Then I would cross Kempegowda Road – even in those days, the traffic was heavy – to Revolving. Reaching leisurely in the slow elevator, I would find the whole band waiting. “Come on, Let’s Start”. But instead of heading to the stage, all trooped into the kitchen to smoke a “Chillum”.

By the time we got into the second song, the booze would hit me, by the fifth song I would be sweating it out and by the last song I would be stone sober, wanting to put down another drink in the short break.

Tale 7: HORLICKS HASSLE

Inevitably, all this boozing took its toll. I collapsed one evening. On stage. I remember, I was singing “Two Princes” by the Spin Doctors, Joe and Vineesh were on Guitars. An old duodenal ulcer I had suddenly burst – the sound came out clearly over the PA. Johnny picked me up and rushed me first to a doctor then home. Next day I had to be operated and spent a week in the hospital.

I was in Hospital for about a week. One day all the dancers from the hotel came and visited me – after making sure my wife was not around. They brought fruits and flowers and I was quite touched. After two weeks, I was back at my post in Revolving.

A little later, one of the dancers fell very sick and had to be hospitalized. The whole band went to see her. We found her family had also come. I asked her mother if there was anything they needed. Her mother told me the girl was very weak and needed Horlicks.

Those days our household provisions came from a nearby shop where we had a running account and used to pay once a month. I went to the shop and took a One Kilo bottle of Horlicks and gave it to the dancer’s mother.

The next day, my wife had gone to the store to pick up a very small bottle of Horlicks. The shop keeper told her “But, you husband picked up a full kilo bottle just yesterday”.

When my confronted me I had to tell her. She was livid quite convinced I was having an affair and Joe had to come and convince her that it was just a bit of misplaced kindness on my part.

Next Chapter : The end of Cabaret.

No Sex Some Drugs and a lil-bit-o-Rock,n Roll: extract:1990 to 1996: THOSE WERE THE BEST YEARS OF MY LIFE:

1990 to 1996: THOSE WERE THE BEST YEARS OF MY LIFE:

Though a drummer, Manuel had the best musical ear I have ever known.This was how Manuel used to tune the guitar.

“Daai, koodu da guitar, (Give me the Guitar),” he would tell me on stage, “Maair madri irrukai. Tuning”(Your Guitar is out of tune, sounds like pubic hair).

Then he would take the guitar and tune the six strings softly humming the notes – “Nee (Low E – 6^thstring). Amm (A 5^thstring@440hertz - exact) Aaa (D- 4^thstring) Koo (G – 3^rdstring) Dhi (B 2^ndstring) eee (High E- 1^ststring)”.(Translates into one of the most vulgar profanities possible in Tamil slang). This would, of course, come strongly over the PAstartling the audience and the half undressed dancer on stage. Without missing a beat through all this he would hit a shattering loud “rim shot” on the snare and admonish her “Nee yenna dee paarkarai? Soothe attandi podi” (What are you looking at? Shake your Butt).

Manuel’s foul mouthed vocabulary was not exceptional – it was rather inherited from the locality he grew up in – Gun Troop in Ulsoor, Bangalore. Basically a slum, the Locality had a long history, dating back to the Third Mysore War of 1791. Some structures even dated back to that period. Most of the populace were Tamils. There is a football field adjoining the colony and Gun Troop has produced some of the best football players in Bangalore. In fact, Gun Troop is the only place in India where you can see a Statue of that great Brazilian, Pele.

Besides Football, Gun Troop produced whole generations of Musicians. Many were from Families of Patriarchs who played Music with Military Bands. The Joseph clan. Manuel. Steven and Babu are his sons, had over a dozen members in the Music Business – Playing, working with Sound equipment and even selling Musical Equipment.  Patrick, one of the clan who runs Jazz Musicals has been an important part of mine and other musician’s lives.

In fact, I was becoming more dependent on Music shops. I had bought my first guitar – way back in 1968 from Premsons – run by an old Punjabi Sikh gentleman. But his specialty was Military Band equipment and so I bought my next few guitars from Cyril Lewis of N. Lewis & Son, who hand made his guitars. All the Chod Gang members –Sriram, Nanda, Parvez learned and used Lewis Guitars – which were purchased for as little as Rs.50! Over the years, Cyril has been a close friend and many were the nice times we had together. In the recent past, I have been helped a lot by Sidharth Patwa of Sound Glitz.

Now that I was playing every night – some days in two different hotels, I needed at least three Guitars – one to leave in the Hotel, One for Practice and playing Key shows kept at home and an Acoustic I could carry round to the other Musician’s place to work out new songs. The one in the Hotel was usually the cheapest and least missed if it got confiscated in a Police Raid.

When I came to play in the Cabaret Hotels, the business was already on its own Death Bed. The government had initiated a policy of abolishing the trade into History, to a large extent, the trade had signed its own death warrant. There was a time, they say, before and even just after Independence, the entertainment and the music was sophisticated. Top crooners from all over India and Abroad performed each night. With authentic Belly Dancers, visiting European Dance troupes, The Cabaret in Bangalore could impress even those who had experienced the Moulin Rouge or the Follies Berger in Paris.

But then a period of stagnation and then decline set in. The foreign and imported dancers were replaced, first by local Anglo Indians and, as revenue and remunerations dropped, later they came mainly from a few villages in the backward West Godavari region of Andhra Pradesh. There was a decline in the Customer Profile too, which got seedier as time passed by. Once, Napoli, Talk of Town, Flora and Metro were visited by mostly travelers – many foreigners too. Mostly single men, they came to unwind after their working day with wine, women and song. Over 75% of the customers were floating population. The local Bangalorean was quite conservative and avoided the Cabaret Hotels. Those that did come, came as incognito as possible. But as time passed by further, the audience was increasingly from social troublemakers and from the underworld. There would be punters every “Race Day” at the Bangalore Turf Club. Those who had won money came to blow it up, while those had lost came to drown their sorrows.

This was the time I used to say “Thank heavens for Bribery & Corruption”. By far the most lucrative customers were corrupt officials on the “take” in their respective fiefdoms. Apparently, it was less risky to blow up their ill-gotten wealth than stash it away into properties. Even in those days, the Vigilance Department was reasonably active. All the Hotels had the “right of admission” which was displayed prominently. But as the Hotel owners became increasingly dependent on both the Underworld Dons and the Police Officials to keep their establishments going, they had no choice than to allow these elements to dominate them.

When I came to the Cabaret in 1990, there were as many as 13 Cabaret Joints functioning, but none of them had actually been given permission to run. They had all got “stay orders” to continue functioning by citing an obscure rule that stated that if the Authorities do not grant a License or reject it in 15 days, the permission is deemed granted. Now, 15 days is ridiculously less to expect Government Bureaucracy to move. In any case the simplest thing was to bribe one of the babus / clerks / officials to sit on the file long enough.

There had also been violence. Flora – one of the Cabaret Hotels got burned down in inter-cine gang wars. Metro Bar, just next to Sona Greens, where I started, had been shut down by the owner who found that just selling liquor was more peaceful. I had played for exactly a year in Talk of the Town, when it closed. The owner a conservative Brahmin Lady, who had inherited the business from two generations back, just decided not to even apply for License. Abruptly I had to look for another hotel – Revolving, where a murder had happened a few years before.

From 1990 in Sona Greens till early 1995, when Revolving and the other hotels finally closed down, I had by far the best time of my life as a Guitarist. I played almost every day and learnt from some of the very good musicians. I also had many joyous and hilarious experiences. But it was the very important lessons on the Show Biz industry in particular and life in general I learnt:

1.      Start the Show in Time and start well. The musician owed it not to his employer, not his band nor even what he earned, but he owed this to the poor sap who has paid to come and hear him – the audience.

2.      You performed – not for yourself, so perform what the audience / listener wants, and do it as best as you can.

3.      If listeners wanted I accepted all types of Music – Listening to originals, learning and working out the music in a couple of days. Those days, Telugu hits from Chiranjeevi movies were all the rage. We acquired Tapes / Sound Tracks – often before the Movies release and kept up with the Pop scene.

4.      I learnt that at age 42, I was going to remain a fairly mediocre Guitarist. I had too many drawbacks. I could not “Pluck” with my fingers, always have needed a Plectrum. I had not used my little finger for “Lead”. I had almost “No Upstroke” and was limited in “Speed”.  I realized that only by building up a large repertoire I would be able to survive as a working musician.

5.      I also learnt to truly respect the dedication and art of all the Musicians in the Cabaret Field. There was a lot they taught me, though I rather regret I did not fully utilize this opportunity – spending more time drinking the booze that was “flowing like a river.”

Raja Fernandez (or “shorty” to differentiate from other assorted Raja’s) had a real dedication to his profession. At TOT, he was both Band Leader and Drummer / Singer. At his house, I found that, instead of Gods and Christian symbols – there were just two portraits – of SP Balasubramaniam, perhaps the most famous Tamil singer and Elaiyaraja – the now world famous music director.

“You know, Chod” Raja explained to me. “These are our true Gods. It’s their music we perform every evening and earn our livelihood”.

It was Raja who inspired me to have my own attitudes – to women. Even though surrounded by all these “women of the night” and so much naked skin around, almost all Cabaret Musicians were a surprisingly very moral lot and there was no promiscuity at all. Almost everyone had already been in this field several years and all had quite stable family lives. Even those few who had any relationship, usually married the women and led a good Family life.

As Raja used to tell me: “If you work in a sweet shop, you don’t go around eating up the sweets!” The women singers and dancers became our important work colleagues – our mutual earnings depended on both musician and singer/dancer having confidence in each other. Sometimes I even visited their homes and saw that invariably it was circumstances that had made them take up the trade.

I resolved never to call a woman “Theivadiyaa” (Prostitute / Whore) or any man “Thalpudiki” (Pimp). The Prostitutes had become my working partners and their Pimps my good friends!

Next Chapter:

Ghost, Funny Stories and Plain Tales from the Cabaret.