The Name is Khan. King Khan.

While our biggest superstar did enough to spice up our Independence Day afternoon, and while the rest of the country is busy wondering if this was yet well-crafted celebrity stunt by our Badshah, Roger learns about quite an interesting interrogation that went along in Newark Airport. Oh, the script was passed on to Roger (by somebody who has chosen to be anonymous) while the Badshah was busy giving 45-minute-interviews to every single national channel in India (and 20-minute-interviews to every single regional channel in India). Well, we know he didn't have enough time to wish us a Happy Independence Day during those interviews... but well, we can certainly forgive him for that, can't we? :-)

(Actors: IO = Immigration Officer; SRK = SRK. Naam to suna hoga?)

IO:        Name?
SRK:    The name is Khan. King Khan. Naam to suna hoga?
IO:        King...? Like Billie Jean King? 
SRK:    No I am Sher Khan. They call me the King. 
IO:        ...they?
SRK:    My people.
IO:        Your people? 
SRK:    I mean my fans. 
IO:        Oh I see. What do you do Mr. Khan?
SRK:    Hey Guddu, you dunno who I am? 
IO:        Your passport doesn't say anything Sir. 
SRK:    So why are you questioning me?
IO:        Mr Khan, we have information that you are 'most wanted'. Police from 11 countries are actually after you...
SRK:    Oh yes dude, I was the Don, and....
IO:        Yes that's what we understand. Who else works with you, Mr Khan? 
SRK:    Oh, Mona, Narang and many others. But hey, its a mistake. Don was a movie. I was the star of the film. You know Bollywood? Slumdog Millionaire? Jai Ho? I am the King of Bollywood. I act. I dance. I run quiz shows. I run cricket teams. 
IO:        Mr. Khan, but we don't play cricket here. Nor do we like to run quiz shows.... what brings you here? You are going to dance?
SRK:    Ah, err, umm... well... I usually come to US for films...
IO:        You had been here earlier Mr. Khan? For a film?
SRK:    Yes dude. Last month. With my friend K-K-K-Karan. 
IO:        That's the name of the film?
SRK:    Of course not. My name is Khan. 
IO:        Yes we know that. But could you tell us your film's name?
SRK:    Yes. My name is Khan. 
IO:        Mr. Khan, we can very well see that in your passport. But could you please tell me the name of your film? 
SRK:    Abey ghonchu. That's what I told you. My film's name is 'My name is Khan'. That's the name of my film. Like 'My name is Cruise' or 'My name is Hanks'...
IO:        We don't have films of that name. 'My name is Khan'? What sort of name is that? Is it a documentary by the way?
SRK:    No dude, its about Muslims getting harassed in airports. Like I am getting right now...
IO:        Mr. Khan, did you just say we are harassing you? 
SRK:    Dude, dude, hold on hold on. That was last month. I am not here to act now... geeee..... cool man... cool cool ....
IO:        So what is your purpose of visit Mr. Khan?
SRK:    Oh dude, I am here to dance. 
IO:        Dance? Where would you dance Mr Khan?
SRK:    Oh many places. I would dance in Dallas. I would dance in Chicago, in New York, in LA, maybe in the Grand Canyon... all over your country you know...
IO:        You mean everywhere in US? But why? 
SRK:    Dude, we are here to celebrate the Independence Day!
IO:        Mr Khan, Independence Day was on 4th of July. This is August. Are you telling me... ?
SRK:    Dude, that's in US. We have the Independence Day tomorrow. In India. 
IO:        India? You mean India's got Independence Days too?
SRK:    Only one. 15 of August. 
IO:        Wow! That's cool I never knew that. India's is surely picking up! 
SRK:    He he... we have a Christmas too, and a New Year. We have Dusshera, like you have Halloween... he he... see, all same? India-US... can I go now Sam?
IO:        My name is not Sam. My name is Tony.
SRK:    My name is Khan. Sher Khan. 
IO:        I know that Mr Khan.Tell me, if its Independence day in your country, what're you doin' here?
SRK:    (face turns to a Bengali 5)... I would dance. 
IO:        You'll dance? Independence in India and you dance here? 
SRK:    He he... you see Sam....
IO:        I am not Sam !
SRK:    Sorry, Tony... you see I dance in front of NRIs..they celebrate Independence day.. I get dollars... he he he ...
IO:        Dollars? US Dollars? 
SRK:    US Dollars sir, only US Dollars. No Australian Dollars. Australian Dollars in Australia. Singapore Dollars in Singapore. US Dolla....
IO:        Mr Khan, we have to check whether receiving money like this is in okay with US laws. Whether you pay tax in US.
SRK:    Come on dude, I have been in US so many times... I make movies...I can show you... KHNH, KANK, K3G...
IO:        Not these Mr Khan, we need to see W2. And also 1040 and if possible 1099.
SRK:    (Confused). What are these? Fighter jets?
IO:        Mr Khan, these are US tax return files.
SRK:    Sorry dude, I meant Kal Ho Na Ho.. my film ... in New York... on Brooklyn Bridge... 
IO:        You'd been to New York? When was it?
SRK:    Well let me see... we planned to go... ur umm... towers fell in 2001.. next year.. 2002. Yes ! It was 2002 !
IO:        (panic in the Interview room. Everybody is suddenly alert) Mr Khan, what do you know about the twin...? 
SRK:    ...Twins? No, I didn't know them. I know a triplet though. Farah Khan has them. 
IO:        Another Khan? What does he do?
SRK:    Its a 'she'. I dance. She choreographs my dances. 
IO:        What do you know about the Twin Towers?
SRK:    Sorry, they fell before I met them. 
IO:        You know other Khans?
SRK:    Oh yes, plenty. I know Saif Khan, I know Salman Khan, I know Fardeen Khan, I know Kader Khan, but I don't know Aamir Khan. Please don't ask me about him. I know he is in US though. 
IO:        Mr Khan, do you know anybody in US who could vouch for you?
SRK:    Err, umm... I knew Michael. He danced very well. In India we have lot of people who try to dance like him. But Michael is dead. We were supposed to dance together in London. 
IO:        You mean MJ?
SRK:    Yo man. Yo ! 
IO:        Come on Mr Khan. There must be other people in US who can vouch for you?
SRK:    Oh yes, of course. There's Sam. Sexy Sam. 
IO:        (sits up) Sam? You know Sam?
SRK:    Oh yes. Always in a colourful suit. Always with chics. Posh apartment in NYC. Yo man ! He is my idol !!
IO:        He's our uncle !! How'd ya know Uncle Sam, Mr Khan?
SRK:    Oh, I thought you knew that already. I ran off ...err... married his daughter-in...(gulps) I mean I married his daughter (once). 
IO:        Mr Khan, our sincere apologies. Why didn't you tell us you were the son-in-law of Uncle Sam? (turns back and yells: Bill getta database updated!)
Welcome to the United States Mr Khan !!!

... Your Legend Ever Will

In the summer of 1987, I relocated to Calcutta. From a small town in North Bengal and getting enrolled to the most populous school in the world -- it was straight into the frying pan -- the highest I could score in Hindi in the first six months was 6 (out of 25) -- academically speaking, those were the most trying days of my school-life.

My early days in music-listening had always been a manifestation of a Debabrata, a Kanika, a Hemanta. Oh yes, thanks to my father, Rafi kept singing in our house too (but only a few Nazrul Geetis... no Hindi music mind you). While I was quite a late starter in Hindi music, my new school-mates were already on the fast track to the George Michaels and the Springsteens. When given a solitary chance to listen to any bit of Western music, this just-landed-in-Calcutta-tabla-player had no idea what Springsteen was crooning on the tapes -- I was quite content with my newly-found heroes... Shammi Kapoor, Dev Anand and Rajesh Khanna ... under the strict tutelage of my cousin sister (who still remains a maestro as far as Hindi film music goes).

I think it was at Akash's residence in Golf Green sometime in 1988 that I listened to MJ for the first time. Not that I didn't hear MJ's name before. He did read about him in news snippets in Aajkaal - the only newspaper that entered our house throughout my school-life (till 12 that is). I did know that this guy had won so many Grammys and all that stuff -- but had never heard him sing. No question of borrowing any tape from my school friends since I didn't have a tape-recorder in my house. Besides, I was too shy to admit in school that I never heard MJ (!).

My first experience of hearing Jackson sing went over my head actually. I understood that he was furiously asking us to Beat at something - I had no idea what it was - but the music - the electric guitar got me on. I went from one song to the other, with Akash mumbling "Eki, etao shunish ni?" Later on, my favourite song in that album turned out to be the one which no one had much admired - P.Y.T.

I clearly remember it was a Sunday afternoon at Deepu's place when I saw him on a VCD. Holy Molly! With a jaw-dropping performance like that, how does he retain the energy to sing at the same time? How does he dance like that, defying several laws of Physics? What sort of dance is it, in the first place? I am sure those questions popped in a million minds, the first time each of them watched him.

Another MJ fan was born instantly.

My Thriller and Bad experiences were mainly confined to listening them at my friends' places because the only three music-emitting objects we had in our house was a Deltron radio, a HMV record player and my tablas (not sure if you hear me play you'd call that music). But as they say: Rakhe Hori Mare Ke -- enter Saswata a year later -- his father (would you believe it) was a great record collector and among his great collection donned an LP record called Thriller, the cover of which showed this guy wearing a glistening white coat (!) I remember exchanging 5 Tintins (I could have done with even 10) to bring home MJ for three full days. I literally memorised (with mostly incorrect lyrics in that non-internet era) every single track in that black vinyl disc during those 3 days and thanks to that non-cellphone-phone era, I managed to disappear from the scene for an additional 2 days to make MJ my most-coveted guest. Only MJ knows -- that during those 5 days he was worshiped in my house with far more grace than the Durga during the annual-5-day period in any other Bengali household.

Needless to say, the first ever poster to don my wall was the BAD poster. Well, it did come with its considerable share of "what-sort-of-poster-is-this" statements from my father as well as several "deoaler-rong-kharap-hoye-jaabe" (you are spoiling the paints on my wall) from our landlady -- but who cared? -- BAD never felt so GOOD !

Meanwhile, struggling to keep up with my English-affluent friends, I was already on my musical highway, riding on the Jackson-fever. I failed to (read: didn't want to) look beyond him for quite a few years and bluntly disregarded any other pop/rock singer's album I came across. Just like the archetypal comrade who'd kill to prove that the greatest politician to have ever walked on earth was Jyoti Basu, I had transformed myself into one who believed that MJ was THE greatest. Period. Cliff Richard was sheer mediocrity. Kishore and Rafi had taken the back seat long while ago.

No one has yet been able to capture the impossible suaveness and outwardly nimbleness of a dancer as Jackson did. His moonwalk completely rewrote the definition of male sexuality in music. However, I believe his biggest achievement in the world of music was to completely redefine the demographics of western pop music. Mind boggling sales in every possible corner of the earth, to drop the jaw of the avid pop-music listener, to pop the eye of the avid pop-music hater, raise every single hair of the fervent Mozart-worshipers and of course turn the head of most of our Shashtriya Sangeet performers. He did it all. Boasting of a fan club ranging from the rickshawalla in Mumbai to the US President, he was the perfect globaliser long before the globalisation balloon was floated. Its a feat, nobody... neither the Beatles nor Elvis or any other legend MJ was compared with, was being able to achieve. A living industry as he was, creating a number of Prabhudevas and Mithuns all across the planet, and ample material for the likes of Johny Levers to perform the same crass jokes on Maike-ayle again and again on stage, he wasn't without the numerous parasites around him.

Michael wouldn't be having them around him now.

And as our desi poet Javed Akhtar observed the other day..."Men are remembered for their work. When we read Shakespeare, we don't care to know how good a husband he was, how good a brother he was or how good a son he was.... we just read him... and then we conclude, that he is the greatest - sublime and ageless."

Michael, we know you led a life narrative worthy of Shakespeare's finest tragedies. But when you were on stage, you'd have made Shakespeare shake his leg as well.

Salutations!