15 December

We’re late, Ludo and I.   :P

Sookie has been calling and the rest are already at the airport. Fortunately the office rush is not too bad today. The trip from Ruby to the airport takes 15 minutes. We meet Rahul, Sookie and Ronnie. There’s the usual good-natured joshing and leg pulling when we reach, together with the usual scramble for the coffee counter and last-minute cigarettes. But we can’t get enough as our Jet Airways flight shows as boarding. We dunk the scalding coffee down our throats and make a dash for it.
As we get to security check, it looks like everyone’s already boarded, because they’ve got a bunch of ground crew looking for us. We’re hustled through and seated in record time, ignoring the usual drivel about cell phones, safety belts, oxygen masks, and emergency exits. And then, with sick, stomach churning certainty, we’re on our way.

We’re headed to play at beautiful Shillong and from there to Tura.

I fall asleep halfway through the flight and am rudely awoken by the impact of touchdown at Guwahati airport. We’re received by our vehicle which loses no time in getting out of the depressing industrial dust and heat of Assam’s capital. We pit-stop at Nongpoh to wash down the dust and grime of the journey with tea and a quick lunch. And then the beautiful and gentle climb to Shillong starts. The roads are excellent and the journey quiet, except for the occasional tasteless joke, to which Rahul takes grave exception. We pass the breathtaking Barapani dam (photo courtesy theshillongtimes.com) at sunset and the rays of the dying sun reflect like blood on the calm waters.

We reach Shillong, in the darkling dusk and check into Centre Point. We are to play at Cloud9 the following night. The evening is spent in leisure – the air is chill and fresh, so we run out for a quick shopping spree, coffee with Sweety Pala at the local CCD, a run-in with a lady whose husband is two-timing her with a 20-year old, rum, whiskey and momos at Rahul’s old haunt, Hong Kong, and back to the hotel for dinner.

16 December

The next day after breakfast, we spend a leisurely time visiting Wards Lake. (photo courtesy headlinesindia.com) The fish seem not to be interested in the moori that we liberally besprinkle on the water. We then catch a cab to St Edmunds, Rahul’s alma mater, and explore the grounds. It is a sprawling facility and my only disappointment is that we couldn’t visit the Christian Brothers’ church which boasts some excellent stained glass work.

On our way out, Rahul informs us that we are close to where the Wallangs stay. After much scouting around and some wrong calls, we finally find a gate marked Springboard, which is Springboard Surprises, Keith Wallang’s event management agency. We are pleasantly surprised to find both Rudy and Keith in their home studio. Rudy is the guitarist and sings in the band Soulmate with the beautiful Tipriti. We spend a pleasant time with them, warmed by their hospitality and genuine pleasure at being called upon. Keith kindly offers Sukanti his Roland blues cube as we are unsure about the sound system being provided at the gig that evening.

Ludo and Sookie head back to the hotel with the amp while Rahul and I head to meet Rahul’s old hoodie, Mup, for a bit, and then we head back ourselves. There ain’t no sign of the other two when we get back so we head up to Cloud9 which is on the top floor, to scope out the joint and kill some beers.

Then Ludo and Sookie arrive. We grab a quick lunch and have a meeting, while drawing up the set list for the evening. The sound people arrive at 4 and we set up the drum kit and start miking it. By the time the rest of the guys set up, evening has set in but the sound on the PA is muddy. Ronnie does the best he can and we hope things will improve when there are some people in the audience to absorb the low end.

Unsatisfactory sound check done, we head back to our rooms to change. We head back up at 9. There’s a bunch of people sitting at tables and drinking. Cool, we think. Let’s get this show on the road. So we mount up and play Dashboard Confessional's Vindicated. Polite applause. Heh? Okay! Let’s try REM. Polite applause. One request for GnR. We’re like, wtf? Okay, no more mista nice guy. We play Stay. Two babes come up and slow dance to it. We’re like totally fazed now. What’s this all about anyway? We change tack and try Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door. W00t! Definitely more interest and applause. But that’s the only classic rock song we do. What next?
Fuckit all. Let’s play Satyr9. Halfway through the song there’s this babe who goes all loony toons. She comes hurtling down the room going “Yayayayayaya”, treads all over a horrified Sukanti’s guitar processor and hangs on to his guitar and neck, all the while still yelling. We’re happier now, coz we think like mebbe this is some version of a mosh goin down. But the bouncers come in and carry her off, while all the time she’s still yelling “Yayayayayaya”. We’re nonplussed. But the sound has improved. We’re enjoying playing despite no audience participation. So, we’re like fuck the set list, lets play some more loud obnoxious stuff and go get drunk afterwards. Which we do.

After we’re done, the DJ comes on as gives us a load of attitude about how we’re going to blow his speakers playing this shite. So we’re like, hell yeah, blowing speakers is what we fuckin do best. :P

The DJ plays Vengaboys. And behold, the audience comes to life, mass fuckin exodus and they’re all on the dance floor. We can’t stop laughing. So we head back to the newly vacated chairs and proceed to down some beers and enjoy the view. Some music lovers come up to us and tell us that they really liked the music, but what in heaven’s name possessed us to play at a disc like Cloud9? Who knows the answer to that one?

We got a heavy day ahead so we crash early.

17 December

We’re packed and ready. The day promises to be a long one. We drop off Keith’s amp. He’s not at home, but we catch Rudy on his way to church. We tell him what transpired the last evening. He assures us that open air concerts are the thing is Shillong. Heartened, we bid him a fond farewell and blow town.

Although Shillong and Tura are both in the state of Meghalaya, there is no direct connecting road within the state. So we drive 3 hours down to Guwahati, switch vehicles, and begin the 7-hour drive to Tura in the West Garo Hills. We had expected it to be tiresome and dreary, but we’re driving through some of the most beautiful countryside we’ve ever seen. If any of you reading this can make time to do the trip, I promise you it will be worth your time. The scenery whizzes past in a blur as we have to reach Tura before nightfall due to the social unrest in the form of insurgency and ethnic aspirations in this beautiful part of the country. We pass tiny villages nestled in backdrop, and see young people sitting with guitars and singing. Sometimes with a harmonica. Sometimes just singing. Awesome. Music never dies.

We reach the outskirts of Tura, Meghalaya’s second largest town, as night falls. The people of the town take the festive season seriously. The town is bedecked. The churches are decorated and lit, and the trees are strung with lights. As we check into the Rikman Hotel, I see one of the most awesome sights of my life. It is a procession of young people. They’re walking four in a row. The oldest must be 16, the youngest 5. They’re all dressed in ankle length gowns. They all hold candles. They’re singing Christmas carols softly. Row after row, they pass. Their voices come in waves, breaking upon me as I stand open mouthed in wonder. Some 400 of them walk by. And then it is over. I continue to stand for a while, alone in my turmoil. For all my cynicism and negativity, they touch something in me I thought was lost long ago.

I head up to our rooms. The endless tea and coffee orders are already well underway. Ludo is applying himself to Peter Scott. Our event organizer, the lovely Lipika drops in for a bit to update us on the events of the morrow. We take a walk around town, but it is largely deserted by this time. So we head back. I’m a little wasted by this time, so after dinner I fall asleep, propped up against a wall, in the middle of a conversation Rahul, Sookie and I are having. I remember waking up once when Sookie asks me to lie down like a human being instead of a chingri, and covers me with the blanket.

18 December

We’re to sound check at 12. We visit the venue with our equipment and begin the set up. Lipika introduces us to Shekhar, who is providing the sound and lighting systems at the gig. Over the next couple of hours, Shekhar proves to be a man of infinite resource, patience, and a wellspring of smiles and encouragement. He leaves Ronnie to his own devices at the soundboard and goes off to efficiently head his team in the hundreds of other things that go into making the son et lumiere of an event a grand success.

We’re done. The sonics are kickass. We head off to lunch at a nearby dhaba and enjoy some cool pig and goat curries with rice. On the way back, Ludo, Ronnie and I discover the infamous DaTura Special. These are neat Burmese cigars to be bought for 3 bucks or 5 bucks depending on the quality. Back to the hotel to change. Backstage, while the youth organize a fashion show.
It’s our turn and the mood is upbeat as we provide entertainment par excellence. There’s no one hanging on to Sookie’s neck today as he rips into bone crushingly heavy riffs. Rahul entertains the crowd with some cool hiphop, impossibly fast raps, and evil growls. Ludo’s hair is wild all over the place as he grins at me, his face shining with honest sweat as I take on the toughies at the back of the auditorium. Damn, its good to be alive. We even have head bangers up front, I remember one in a Slipknot tee that Sookie was paying special attention to. We wait for the audience to disperse and then head back to the hotel for some celebrating. Shekhar and his lovely missus, with Lipika, drop by post dinner and I offer them some kwai. Shekhar invites us for a ‘quick bite’ in the morning before we head back to Guwahati for our ride home. It’s a long night as we play Flash or teen patti in the hotel room till 4. We’re due to drive at 7. Stakes that are high to begin with, get even higher. I manage to get away before the losses get too heavy.

19 December

Its 8 and Lipika is already waiting in the lobby with her cute girlfriend who (drool) drives this cool black Gypsy with alloy rims and radial tyres. We convoy over to Shekhar’s beautiful home. The ‘quick bite’ lies on the table, a feast fit for a king. Tomato and ham sandwiches, sausages, Chinese, homemade cake and pots of tea. Stuffed, we waddle off to the waiting cars. Au revoir. Till we meet again.

The drive is made mostly in silence, partly due to Rahul’s diktat against profanity in enclosed spaces, partly from the afterglow of a trip well made.

Its past 10, and the 5 hours down to Guwahati, before the flight at 4 makes bad math, factoring in pit-stopping for lunch and numerous teas. We make it in good time though, even with Lipika’s sudden urge to get her car washed. Guwahati airport has a cool smoking room where we descend like a plague, rudely disrupting some semi-comatose smokers. A wastebasket and an empty cigarette packet provide us a few minutes of enjoyment and random wagering. Not an easy task at 10 metres. Those damn cigarette packets tend to swing away while in flight.

Our call comes through. Kingfisher this time around. I’m glad to see that they’ve dispensed with the antics and Yana does it better on the little screen behind every seat. Rahul breaks his headphones within 5 minutes and promptly asks for another.

The flight home is uneventful. A dark depression settles over me as the plane descends into the grey murk that we breathe in the city every living moment. Ronnie, Rahul and Sookie share a prepaid cab as do Ludo and I. Our throats burn and eyes water as we readjust to the city pollution levels. I call home to let the folks know that I’m back and find out that we’ve been having power outages every evening. The cabbie wants more than the prepaid fare. Ludo and I squabble over who gets dropped first.

Lmao…

We’re home for sure.