Are you a bathroom singer?
And as a bathroom singer I know what ails our kind: We are passionate creatures. Born to sing. Born to sing like donkeys. And donkeys don’t have much of a foothold in the music industry.
No, everywhere you hear there’s that frigging Arijit and his band of playback cronies. Much like beauty mags and the Indian film industry, the Indian music industry sets insidiously high standards which are utterly impossible to achieve.
Vocal Shaming it’s called.
But us Social Justice Warriors, we know better:
We know that Fat people aren’t fat, they’re healthy.
We know that Disabled people aren’t disabled; they’re physically challenged.
And that Physically challenged people aren’t physically challenged; they’re differently abled.
We know that Lies aren’t lies, they’re alternative facts.
But what a lot of us still don’t know is this: besura singers aren’t besura we’re differently sured
That is why on this day, the 10th of May 2017 I reach out to all you bathroom singers with a call to arms!
Besure log, UNITE!
We want to sing our hearts and lungs out without being shamed. We want singing rights for the Differently sured: this is radical self-love’s next battleground folks!
And guess what? Sarhad pe already hamare jawaan tainat hai.
And as for you playback singers, beware you entitled pricks, beware! We’ve got Mobile Assault Vehicles. No peaceful demonstration, this.
Manning the MAVs are our very own shudh desi Band Baja frontmen.
I mean, this is toh obvious choice only! These radically rad Ahuja Mike wielding Band wallahs (Or Mic wielding? Hop on this raging debate you incorrigible Grammar Nazis, you!) are known for their impassioned renderings of sundry lewd songs on burly columns of an Ahuja public address system. His minions work on finding the most blood curdling combinations of highs, mids and lows on an Ahuja Equalizer, loud enough to make Zeus’s thunder sound like the kind of elusive ‘pin drop silence’ the khadoosest of convent teachers yearn for.
“lagta hai jaise saare sansar ki shaadi hai” -Mohammed Rafi
Full disclosure: This post was sponsored by Ahuja: Pioneering cacophony since 1940
So yesterday, I was asked to be a baraati. One of the many portfolios held by a Ladke wala. Naturally, I couldn’t keep myself from swooning when I saw one of these stalwarts in action. And I wasn’t disappointed. The guy was a heroic champions of our cause, no doubt.
Our guy had pizzazz. He had the Oomph factor. Donning a super wicked cap emblazoned with the words SONI BAND in a 300 point Times New जो मन, all caps (A dash of dynamism!), he belted out one garbled song after another. The rest of his garb gave him the illegally acquired aura of a sexily bedraggled Matador (A sprinkle of panache!), ready to take on an entire horde of bullish baraatis by their horns.
And his voice! Man o man his voice!
I stood frozen, spellbound, as the fruits of a carefully cultivated ineptitude graced mine ears:
“Lagave lu jab lipistic , hilela Arra district
Zilla top lage lu
Komoriya kar lopa loap, lalipop lagelu”
It was love at first sight.
Love to bathroom singers and the Soni Brass Band,
Jai Mata Di let’s rock!