i shared my room with two people when i grew up-my brother and that man who stared with an icy stare,dressed in a black shirt and white jacket,the black man with super fizzy hair.the man in that poster behind my door.these were the days when "western music" had started infiltrating the impermeable membrane of rabindra sangeet around my family.
it was infront of this stare that we tried the moonwalk and failed terribly.those days international albums were sold for a princely sum of Rs 125.i had seen my brother walk to college and save up for the cassettes.
Dangerous was a song i was allowed to hear and dance to whenever i had been a good girl.
that poster was taken off when my room got painted.and my brother left for mumbai.
that man in the poster lost his fizzy hair and his skin colour.and the media said stories...
i remember having called up my brother and telling him that i am learning odissi,the same dance featured in the video of Black or White.he confused it with the malaysian dance,ofcourse.
they called him a pedophile,they called him anti-semitic,they called him a monster...but that man,for me,was a part of my growing up.and today he went away-taking a huge chunk of my childhood.
he could've been the peter pan of his own neverland...he could've always remained that little Illinois boy whose father whipped him with a belt each time his moon walking feet falter.
maybe,he wanted to dance like that little Illinois boy forever but the world couldnt let go of its whip that tried whipping him into perfectness each time his steps faltered.
you have been a hero to a generation which saw no heroes before you.