Indians love Michael Jackson.
My dad, who turns a shade of red that’s brighter than a cherry when asked to sing or dance, has no qualms about showing his moonwalk. (And he does it surprisingly well.) My cousins, who barely know a thing about American pop culture, know the words to MJ’s songs. And my uncle, with the help of a bottle of Royal Challenge whiskey, can imitate entire song/dance sequences from his Beat It concert DVD.
I was in India when Michael Jackson died, during the summer of 2009. The entire country entered a period of mourning. And the mourning-period was followed by a tribute-period as magazines and newspapers devoted entire sections to MJ and clubs and malls played his songs on repeat.
Two years later, Michael Jackson’s music is still extremely popular here. Clubs still play his music; cars still have Michael Jackson decals. My uncle still pulls out his concert DVDs on a regular basis.
We watched part of that DVD today. I’d never realized how incredible MJ’s dancing was. I’d never realized how fanatical his fans could be. (The DVD would cut from Michael’s face to scenes of sobbing fans every other minute.) His crotch-grabbing and pelvic-thrusting and moon-walking were smooth and refined, and he executed everything perfectly.
He was a true artist.
Michael Jackson completely transformed music and dance. Usher, Lady Gaga, even the craziest Bollywood item-number: everything just seems like a watered-down version of Michael Jackson’s antics.
PS: It rained again as I came home from work today, but this time I didn’t get wet. I seem to be learning something.
-June 8th
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