Update: This blog was published in the  January, 2006 edition of Just Like That (JLT); a Mumbai based youth magazine...

Our universe, most agree, was once a small dot. An infinitesimally small point, which existed in a region, we have not yet managed to define or understand. Within that dot were all the energy that we experience and all the matter that we see today. The result of having such a large amount of energy and matter within such a constrained space, was what, today is widely acknowledged as the Big Bang. In reality, there was no explosion, as the term inspires us to imagine. It was merely the beginning of an expansion. To better accommodate the contents of that point...our universe. And the expansion marked the beginning of time...i.e. t = 0. And of space...i.e. S > 0.

In it's formative first minutes, there was no specific structure to the universe. Just a vast, endless space of energy and "unstructured" (not composed of atoms), matter.

A basic and well-accepted concept in physics is the theory of "tendency towards complexity". It means that, our universe has a craving for complexity. It has a life of it's own and is continuously expanding. And as it expands, it becomes exceedingly complex. So, haphazard energy and unstructured matter were transformed into more meaningful entities. Energy became matter and matter metamorphosed into energy.

In this way, the first stars were born. And as our universe grew, the first stars died out and formed the first planets. And the various forms of matter came together, attracted by the influence of energy and formed complex cosmic systems.

According to the law of conservation of energy and mater, we recall, that matter and energy are interconvertible and cannot be destroyed or created. Which simply means, that our bodies are remnants of stars that shone bright and proud several million years ago.

This is well known physics.

Recently, I came across literature that connected this theory to philosophy. And God. It stated that the "tendency towards complexity" is simply our journey to God. The universe is moving towards a state of final and binding complexity, and we have known it all along. This final complexity is God. And we search for ways to accelerate this journey. Every single one of us. And we all have our own unique ways of doing it.

Which brings us to music. Definitely, a factor, which drives us all to a level of complexity higher than the one below it. And music, I must declare, rather mournfully, has, due to circumstance, been perceived merely as a medium of entertainment. We must all make a conscious effort to realize that music is much more than just entertainment. It is a purple horse that is driving us all towards God. It is an energy that, like all other forms of energy was contained in that tiny dot, which was our universe, before time began it's infinite knell.

And we must acknowledge it for what it is...a force capable of transforming us into beings greater than ourselves, an energy which allows us to converse with God.

Another popular misconception, that I admit, all of us, at some point in time harbor, and sometimes take with us to our graves,  is that music is an art. It most certainly is not! It is, in reality, an amalgamation of various human characteristics. It is a combination of talent, love, hate, disparity, haplessness, expression, emotion, blood, tears, heartache, temptation, admiration and obsession. All, in a way, gifts of God, Almighty.

DISCLAIMER: This is my first attempt at writing a personal blog. If you hate personal blogs or cannot bear nostalgia induced internet literature, please refrain from reading any further. Thank you, in advance!

I always claim that I was born and brought up in Bombay. And, I confess today, that it is not true. In 1990, my father was posted in Panjim, Goa  and I accompanied him there. We spent a short period of five years there. I was seven. And in a way, Goa and it's immeasurable beauty will forever remain in my heart.

All my fond childhood memories are set in Goa. In a way, it is justified. Because when we came back to Bombay in 1995, I had already hit puberty. The fondest memory I have, is of walking down the sleepy lane that led from Miramar beach  to Tonca Caranzelem, with my father, convinced that I was old enough and knew enough about this world and dicsussing the Gulf war  with him. I'm not quite sure my father even remembers this.

It seemed to my young mind, that we lived in magical times. I played magical games and I had an imaginary floating friend with whom I indulged in long, intense conversations about an imaginary chocolate factory that we co-owned and discussing new potential flavours. I can't for the life of it, today, seem to remember the name of that imaginary floating friend.

Even at that age, I was a hopeless romantic. I fell in love with every girl who spoke with me. Shabana, Diana, Shasha, Natasha...the the list is endless. And I stayed dangerously away from them. As if I would blow up in flames if I went near them! If any of you girls is reading this blog entry, you know now!

I remember this playground we called "the field". It was a huge, empty, unnaturally square, green piece of land. It was below the level of the area which surrounded it. In the monsoons, it filled up with water and we called it "the lake" ! And pretty, pink lotuses would spring up, which urchin kids would pluck and sell around "the lake".

Rs. 3 a piece.

In the summer vacations, on his way to work, my father would drop me at the Central Library. I would read from 9:00AM to 1:00PM. Life was all about Tintin and Amar Chitra Katha and Tinkle and all the Enid Blytons a pre-pubic boy could desire. My mother would come by at lunch to take me home. She generally packed a small lunch. I remember waiting for the bus back home, sipping chilled, home-made lemon juice that my mother would pack with the lunch, every day.

Oh, how I miss my childhood in Panjim...

A lot of people have asked me; why Led Zeppelin, why Pink Floyd, why Jimi Hendrix, why The Doors, why...?

Why am I not able to find an exit to the 80's and the 90's? Why am I musically stuck in the 60's and the 70's? Sure, there is some awesome stuff being composed today. We have Coldplay and Norah Jones. We have Zero and Parikrama. Others are just spinning out shit. So, we'll let them out of this box.

Why?

Can a Norah Jones or a Coldplay play a Stairway... for me? Can a Zero or a Parikrama play me a Soul Kitchen?  Can we find solace in Yellow like we did in Hey you? Can we be liberated of color and creed with a PSP 12 " like we were with Purple Haze? Can we rub our smitten, tearful eyes at a Coldplay concert like we did at a Pink Floyd concert? Can we obsess over Chris Martin like we did over Jim Morrison?(!!)

Is multi-layered yet one-track, dimensional yet trival, simple yet complex, subtle yet inspiring, adultrous yet motherly and perverse yet sacred music being made today?

That's why...

I was a stark-raving-lunatic once upon a time. That wasn't so long ago. Just around six months back. Long disheveled hair. Rough, long beard. Black Ozzy tee. Always smelling of booze and lot's of other stuff too (wink wink). That was my college look. And that was me at my enigmatic, crazy, untidy, flamboyant, frightening, spectacular best! My day began on the cracked, smelly, naked, cold floor of my friend's rented flat near college. On such mornings, my mouth tasted of last night's vodka and whisky, my stomach felt like it was in shambles after the innumerable time I had puked in the night that followed the booze and other things that make the world go round and my head felt like the thousand pipers that appeared on the bottle the night before had suddenly transformed into masons and were hammering away in a mad, futile effort to fix my messed up brain.

I graduated. With, what i would call, good grades. An above average academic record. Some beyond excellent programming skills (I don't believe in modesty!) . An analytical mind. A good sense of what the world had to offer me. And landed a job. In one of the celebrated American Software companies.

And I changed. I don't know why. I preached an anti-corporate doctrine to my drunk friends in a drunk frenzy all throughout college. But, I turned out gray. I was suddenly a sellout. And I did go through a rather small period of denial. But, I realized that it's all about waking up and smelling the fart. Someday, I'll write about it here. Not today.

Anyway, I work now. I have short, neat hair. I shave everyday. I wear neatly pressed business formals. I wake up on my own bed, in my own house. I drink, but only socially. I don't do other suff.  However, one thing has not changed, and that is my musical taste. I still am crazy about music. I still listen to the same old bands, feel the same old goosebumps when I listen to Stairway to Heaven, or Floods, or Even Flow, or High Hopes.

But, I'm a different person.

This is the same old blog...