The Cynic

Over the past decade, a transition in India’s music scene has led to a never seen before madness and fan following for international artists. We are as much in love with these ‘stars’ as the people of the west are. So much so, that any international gig is bound to grab more attention, attendance and money than any other desi Hindi or Punjabi singer’s concert. Unfortunately, though, for us Indians, these gigs don’t come by easy. Sadly, internationally our reputation as a country still remains stereotyped as that of essentially a poultry market which forms a necessary frame for any movie shot in the Middle East—there are a couple of angry, abusive men in white kurtas, a couple of harassed women in black burkhas, a few hens fluttering dangerously dropping feathers here and there, and a general sense of congested chaos. Inspite of the beautiful image we seem to enjoy abroad, when the heavy metal headbangers Metallica arrived in Delhi for their first ever concert in India, boy were they w

A grin spread across Aliya's face as she settled into her cab and disconnected Ankit's call. They had been engaged for seven months now, and marriage was on the cards. The cab's driver, Ravi, greeted her as she sat, and she greeted him back--she had known him for two years, he'd worked at her company for quite some time and had often dropped her home when she worked late nights. Aliya slumped into the back seat of the car, and re-read Ankit's last message. Smiling to herself, she thought of the day when, a few months later, she would be his bride. It was to be a big, fat Punjabi wedding. Lots of food, stunning clothes, flowers, music, and too many pujas. The pujas, ah. The smoke from the havan always hurt Aliya's eyes and they watered. Just like now.. * Aliya awoke with a start. Looking out the window, she realised that the drive home was another 45 minutes, and it was already 10:30 PM. Aliya told Ravi to hurry up and drive a little faster, and he nodded slu