THE LAST LEAR OF GIR
May 2003. When I walked to the front door of the typical sprawling hauz khas house, space was an illusion. I stepped into a cramped up space where I could cartwheel twice to map the entire length of the room. On one side were three boys struggling with some graphics on the computers, and a long haired man in his cotton harem pants on the phone, who signalled me to sit. I looked around and found no place to settle down. So I clutched my knapsack in my hand to avoid crashing into anyone or anything, tapping my foot impatiently. The other side was occupied by a man with flowing salt and pepper hair, a smoke perched between his fingertips going furiously at his laptop. He paused, and looked at me amusingly, and smirked. “Tomorrow, 4.30 pm, Mezz. Be there.”
I almost choked out the words “What for?”
“Menwhopause are playing. Come and figure it out and write me an article for the next issue.”
I think i looked perplexed because he pushed his hair back nonchalantly and said “Ure wearing an AC DC t-shirt and holding your profound vomit of work in your hand. You’re not carrying a guitar so i assumed not a musician, *shrug* must be a writer.”
And no he wasn’t being condescending. He was just fuelled on passion, belief and taking chances. I first met him when I was 21.
Amit Saigal had dared to take a chance and a leap of faith in something he loved, believed and cultivated – music. This man, literally single handedly struggled for and created a haven for indian independent music ‘scene’. I would go to the length to say he’s a revolutionary of sorts, for constantly pushing the barriers, making exceptions, and providing a wealth of support to struggling musicians . Today, independent music is a flourishing scene, but Saigal gave this country its first music festival – the Great Indian Rock (GIR) in 1997.
Amit created a platform when there was none, he got bands gigs when there were no sponsors, he made collaborations happen, he encouraged original music, he was a friend, a toker and an occasional father figure to the aspiring musicians, he created a community that lovingly and aptly called him Papa Rock.
RSJ is truly an era. I’m not even sure when I boarded that train and when and if I ever got off it. I never ended up writing for RSJ besides that one article, but Amit had created something so pure, fresh and beautiful, which was like a little bubblebraid of music strewn all across the country in pockets where you could get together and celebrate music. It was almost a decade back and incidentally an entirely different generation, but it seems like yesterday , serpentine lines outside Hamsadhvani every January for GIR, randomness and ownage on RSJ forums, watching the bands grow from RATM covers to original setlists, 100 bucks an entry to a TC or Mezz gig (it was 50 at some point *chuckle*). Every single kid in that phase that got associated with RSJ, felt like they belonged with it, and shared the magic with one strong underlying sense of celebration – music .
This afternoon when I heard about Amit’s sudden demise, it felt like a wave crashing over asignificant period whose existence was threatened.And if you experienced that period, it just sucks the O2 out of you and creates a vaccum! It still seems surreal, the time travel to the fourth GIR , where AFS played for the last time, Themclones played with their initial line up with RJ as the frontman, and some 30 kids against the barriers wearing the same Kurt Cobain T shirt that they all probably bought at Pallika Bazaar *chuckle* It all comes back. I remember the RSJ forums – no holds barred explosive banter, GIR, Jazz Utsav, Pubrockfest where you wore your love for the music and the people on your sleeve, my first music documentary n a lot of other randomness. Lots of friends made, lots of bands came, played and disbanded, lots of different style of music emerging, growing, expanding. It was an addiction.
Somewhere the addiction wears off; you grow out of your phase, get preoccupied with your banal lives and trade your passions for a career. The friends I made here were also lost somewhere along the numerous crossroads . And today, while remembering Amit, all those moments, countless gigs, the madness, the rush of energy at GIR, the smoke of mary jane rising on either side of hamsadvani comes right back, as do some forum names – guitarsmash, sweating bullets, namesake, megadeath, GForce et al. ;)
Amit and RSJ represented, what we have forgotten and become oblivious to along the way. To take chances, to live in the moment and to just fucking LET GO. Most importantly, he dared to disturb the universe.
Most of you who haven’t been a part of this beautiful madness that Saigal created would think this to be juvenile, but this is what sucks the most about it. There won’t be another generation who would ever experience that again. Also it’s no longer a struggle or a revolution. Bacardi, Chivas, JD, Absolut have all joined the bandwagon. There will never be another day when the bands would go without a penny or a drop of alcohol. Dog days are gone. Sponsors in da house. The downside, it wouldn’t be the same anymore anyways. The romance has worn off. The brotherhood is jaded. The intimacy is lost.
Amit Saigal a.k.a Papa Rock. the era was magical, the legend will linger and thanks for rude reminder to take a chance, fly and let it go...once again and get on the crazy ride ;)
P.S: Some of you tagged i met through RSJ, some who've been dragged to GIR every year by me, some who worked on the documentary, and most i had lost touch with :) I just think THIS man definitely deserves a last GIR , done in absolute Papa Rock signature style – fully fantastic! Take a chance and make it happen?
I almost choked out the words “What for?”
“Menwhopause are playing. Come and figure it out and write me an article for the next issue.”
I think i looked perplexed because he pushed his hair back nonchalantly and said “Ure wearing an AC DC t-shirt and holding your profound vomit of work in your hand. You’re not carrying a guitar so i assumed not a musician, *shrug* must be a writer.”
And no he wasn’t being condescending. He was just fuelled on passion, belief and taking chances. I first met him when I was 21.
Amit Saigal had dared to take a chance and a leap of faith in something he loved, believed and cultivated – music. This man, literally single handedly struggled for and created a haven for indian independent music ‘scene’. I would go to the length to say he’s a revolutionary of sorts, for constantly pushing the barriers, making exceptions, and providing a wealth of support to struggling musicians . Today, independent music is a flourishing scene, but Saigal gave this country its first music festival – the Great Indian Rock (GIR) in 1997.
Amit created a platform when there was none, he got bands gigs when there were no sponsors, he made collaborations happen, he encouraged original music, he was a friend, a toker and an occasional father figure to the aspiring musicians, he created a community that lovingly and aptly called him Papa Rock.
RSJ is truly an era. I’m not even sure when I boarded that train and when and if I ever got off it. I never ended up writing for RSJ besides that one article, but Amit had created something so pure, fresh and beautiful, which was like a little bubblebraid of music strewn all across the country in pockets where you could get together and celebrate music. It was almost a decade back and incidentally an entirely different generation, but it seems like yesterday , serpentine lines outside Hamsadhvani every January for GIR, randomness and ownage on RSJ forums, watching the bands grow from RATM covers to original setlists, 100 bucks an entry to a TC or Mezz gig (it was 50 at some point *chuckle*). Every single kid in that phase that got associated with RSJ, felt like they belonged with it, and shared the magic with one strong underlying sense of celebration – music .
This afternoon when I heard about Amit’s sudden demise, it felt like a wave crashing over asignificant period whose existence was threatened.And if you experienced that period, it just sucks the O2 out of you and creates a vaccum! It still seems surreal, the time travel to the fourth GIR , where AFS played for the last time, Themclones played with their initial line up with RJ as the frontman, and some 30 kids against the barriers wearing the same Kurt Cobain T shirt that they all probably bought at Pallika Bazaar *chuckle* It all comes back. I remember the RSJ forums – no holds barred explosive banter, GIR, Jazz Utsav, Pubrockfest where you wore your love for the music and the people on your sleeve, my first music documentary n a lot of other randomness. Lots of friends made, lots of bands came, played and disbanded, lots of different style of music emerging, growing, expanding. It was an addiction.
Somewhere the addiction wears off; you grow out of your phase, get preoccupied with your banal lives and trade your passions for a career. The friends I made here were also lost somewhere along the numerous crossroads . And today, while remembering Amit, all those moments, countless gigs, the madness, the rush of energy at GIR, the smoke of mary jane rising on either side of hamsadvani comes right back, as do some forum names – guitarsmash, sweating bullets, namesake, megadeath, GForce et al. ;)
Amit and RSJ represented, what we have forgotten and become oblivious to along the way. To take chances, to live in the moment and to just fucking LET GO. Most importantly, he dared to disturb the universe.
Most of you who haven’t been a part of this beautiful madness that Saigal created would think this to be juvenile, but this is what sucks the most about it. There won’t be another generation who would ever experience that again. Also it’s no longer a struggle or a revolution. Bacardi, Chivas, JD, Absolut have all joined the bandwagon. There will never be another day when the bands would go without a penny or a drop of alcohol. Dog days are gone. Sponsors in da house. The downside, it wouldn’t be the same anymore anyways. The romance has worn off. The brotherhood is jaded. The intimacy is lost.
Amit Saigal a.k.a Papa Rock. the era was magical, the legend will linger and thanks for rude reminder to take a chance, fly and let it go...once again and get on the crazy ride ;)
P.S: Some of you tagged i met through RSJ, some who've been dragged to GIR every year by me, some who worked on the documentary, and most i had lost touch with :) I just think THIS man definitely deserves a last GIR , done in absolute Papa Rock signature style – fully fantastic! Take a chance and make it happen?
posted by NEHA DUTTA at 10:58 PM
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