What do you say to girl-band survivor? What’s tattooed, what’s pierced, what’s not? Something has to be. What’s a Popstar without mistakes? Dreary, arid, a doppelganger.
Here’s
someone with a million: one Miss Anushka Manchanda
Cadillac of a girl, with a hell of hug – dangerous
like a designer drug, holds you like a lightening bug, and never leaves you.
There was
an epidemic in the early Two-Thousand years, Modern Rock and other
bullshit. But people stayed awake. They didn’t miss the moments; the winks,
pinks, inks, at all the wrong places. People falling in love; the girls wearing
white on white, like ghosts. Their beautiful eyes just glinting, glittering,
ear rings like chandeliers, fruity shampoos, eye-liners, toes and twinkle,
Armani Code, heels, wheels, banana peels, goodbye stainless steel.
It was a time of new beginnings; coffees,
late nights, and clubbing, like U2 was somehow back in Berlin. Girls of 17
playing in bands, waltzing with Umbrellas.
And somewhere midst the new tenderness,
Warren Zevon was dying. The last of the first Sha la la la ls's were
dyingly whispered.
Maybe she did get a tattoo as a souvenir
from 2002. And maybe it’s acting like a map providing scales in kilometers. I
want to see what’s under her clothes, like really see her naked. Find that
tattoo. But journalism is dangerous these days. It’s a day and age of
tragedies, nip-slips, and malfunctions. What happens when people
malfunction? Suicides baby.
Every generation needs a Kurt Cobain to
die young and decaffeinate the bloodstream. So we made a little pact, she and
I; we’re learning how to lift, great weights and each other.
This essay is my way of back-massaging
Anushka Manchanda. She’s a girl after all – deserves the pampering apart from a
list of little things: shoes, pillows, mo-bikes, bikini wax, Grey’s Anatomy,
The Wonder Years, U2 records, TV, Scrabble, soap, beer, salad, fine-dining,
Glastonbury, spa dates with contemporaries and arch enemies, remote controls,
and a madshit writer keen on sweetshit living.
The Popstar that she is; reminded me of
her lateness issues. She read the blog – the Meghna Gulzar interview. Lucky
for me, madam doesn’t scratch her nails on a blackboard.
And even though the insides count – here’s what she’d got on the outside: lips
like Steven Tyler, hips like a Spanish dancer, standing like a Cadillac – all
dressed in black. She’s got the constant danger from a handgun, pretending
to be a devil having fun. The headline might just read: “Shot dead accidentally,
mistaken for Thor’s brother Loki”.
But her
kisses haven’t killed anybody yet.
"Drop
out"… her aunt’s idea.
Filled a vacant spot in an all-girl
band. She called me a little post mid-night; was busy working on her new
record: come back, bare back, backless, strapless, electric, sugar, loud,
whispers, guitar riffs, romanticizing in different cities, Jimmy Hendrix, used
vinyl, mainstream, underground, and vanity.
Good
evening. Or morning. Which do you prefer?
Good Evening.
Sound better.
You’ve
been married what four times now.
Three
and a half. (Laughs) But I don’t see them anymore. Except for Pratichee
(Mohaparta). In fact, one of the girls lives very close by to where I’m at. But
we don’t meet. We're all very cordial.
Is
“Cordial” girl slang for something else?
No no.
(Laughs)
Let’s see how adventures you really are. Want to celebrate your 19th tonight?
Well I
pretty much do that every night these days. (Laughs) We went out tonight. I’m
in Goa right now. There was this Retro Band playing stuff
like “Mustang Sally”. My younger brother walks in and he’s looking for younger
people. Somehow my girlfriends and I didn't count. Little shit. He plays in
my band. We had a big laugh.
Want to take
a minute and sing Highway Star to a
mirror or something?
(Laughs)
No. I haven’t sung that number in years. And that bio needs to change. I know
where you got that information from. The thing is they wrote it when I was
still 23. Even my website, have you seen it? It screams Popstar. I like it. But
sometimes it gets too much for me to even look at.
I was
gesturing at your past. But let’s debunk the All American Girl-on-Girl classic
here.
Oh no.
I know
how bad girls get. What happened when you all washed your faces? Got rid of the
kohl and the lipstick.
Well,
everyone was so head strong which pretty much made it that much more
frustrating. No one was taking any shit. There wasn’t a couch to sleep on.
There wasn’t a couch. Everyone had their bedrooms, you know what I mean?
(Laughs) Literally. Now the thing about that band was that we were under
contract. And we got sick of each other. I’ll tell you how bad it was – we
lived in a terrace garden on the 5th floor, facing a beach. It
was a beautiful apartment. It was really big. And we only threw one party in
over a year. Got a little cramped. One of the girls had left. The contract was
coming to an end. It was a time of new beginnings. We even wanted to drop the
name and still play together. I remember having to go for a wedding. And I woke
up to a phone call from an RJ friend who asked me for a quote. He had the News
of our disbandment. I didn’t have a clue. It was in the papers. The entire
morning was spent making calls. We had to counter-quote. But I made it to the
wedding. (Laughs) And well, we did have some great times. It was fun, no doubt.
When you
said Marco, what said Polo?
A little
book. The stationary that was given to us…
And right
then, her damn phone died on us.
“Maybe she’s a session
player”… I say to myself.
Or like a
shrink you pay by the hour – and I was expecting a bill for this conversation.
But that’s life: batteries die; signals fail to bounce off the ionosphere. In
our last conversation she told me the chips inside her head were frying; her
Geldof moment.
Maybe what the girl needed more than this interview was a pair of
suspenders, a café latte, some slow roast, sunsets, beaches, Palm Trees, ice
cold beer, a joint, maybe two joints, an Eric Clapton record, an Eric Clapton
tribute band, sun tan lotion, bikinis, Coca-Cola, Mascara, a white flowery
skirt, a cassette copy of “Honey I shrunk the kids”, and a land-line as against
her cell-phone.
But I
called her cell-phone anyway.
Her
dialer tone was an old Shaggy song called “Mr. Boombastic”.
Shaggy.
Really? (Loudly)
Yea.
It’s one of my oldest favorite songs. Has a story to it. Dad used to watch MTV
grind. I picked it up there. I hadn’t heard it for a while. So when I did, I
was more than happy to keep it around. So I picked up my cell-phone, punched in
a few numbers: Yeh gana copy karne
ke liye star daba kar … (Laughs)
Did you
do that voice-over? Such a familiar voice.
No.
(Laughs) But I have done a lot of other voice-overs. Don’t you watch TV, or
listen to the radio? Or are you one of those anti-establishment people?
No. No.
No, no, no.
You’re
just weakening your own case. (Laughs)
(Laughs) So the
diary?
Ah, yes.
A friend of mine came over. She was looking for a job. I was encouraging her in
every possible way. And we got down to discussing career options. Suddenly I
knew there was so much I could do. So much. I was opening up my Rolodex for her
so to speak, listing out people I knew who could help her. It was on that
stationary. And it’s funny because a few days later I got a job as a VJ.
Were you
girls ever playing for keeps?
I don’t
think so. We were just pushed. Look, it was human nature. Room-mates fight. But
we weren’t just roomies. We had to go to work together. That’s never easy. I
think we would have survived it had we lived separately. Thing is we were
really good. You know, on stage. It was great. The performances were getting
better and better. By the time the second record came up, we were super.
Everyone was feeling that energy.
Do you
want to discuss the past at all? Bono said “You only glorify the past when the
future dries up”. If it’s wet, I’ll step on the clutch and we’ll start from the
first.
Sure.
The past is boring. I’ve done this many times you know. This story came up a
lot. But it hasn’t so much in the last few years. The future looks good.
A person
who creates out of obligation is an artist. Do consider yourself to be one?
I
started feel to feel more strongly about this only in the last two years. I
never really nursed that desire. I played piano when I was younger. I played
drums in a band in school. (Laughs) There was no one else to do it. I think
everything led to everything. I was in class 12, and we were supposed to move
to the United States. (Chuckles) Okay, this is a little morbid. My dog bit my
face. I had these intense operations. Reconstruction surgery. The rabies shots
came in cycles. And if that wasn’t bad enough, then came 9/11. They beefed up
the security there. And I would have almost been quarantined – rabies threat. A
cyst was formed under my upper lip, like a little ball. Mum said we’ll postpone
moving by a few months. Then my board exams were around the corner. Then the
show just happened. My friends talking me into it. Dad told mum it would give
me the confidence I needed. They just let me go. I let go. But that was then.
Now I’m creating music, sounds. I’m writing songs. (Laughs) Every time I go
home my rooms’ a mess. Mum keeps asking me to clean it. I keep telling her I’m
meant for greater things than cleaning my room. I have this sense of purpose.
I’m working on my first record. It’s amazing. It’s making me happier. I want
people to hear it. I want to create this really great sound that makes you go:
"Fuck Yeah". It’s not "Lets change the world". It’s far
simpler. But yes, I am an artist.
Was
playing in a girl band an experimental approach in retrospect?
If I
knew half the things I do now then, things would be different. I cannot tell
you how new that entire space was. It was waking up, going to the gym, vocal
training, dance rehearsals; studio work. It was non-stop. It rushed at you.
There wasn’t enough time to think of myself as an artist.
I can
imagine. You girls were confused on whether to eat or not.
Oh no.
(Laughs) That was a joke.
If I
wanted to torment you, all I’d have to do is play back those videos.
My eyes,
my eyes. (Laughs) I mean even the clothes we were wearing. I was in “Anti
Fit Jeans”.
Oooh.
(Making the sound) Do you still wear them?
When I’m
feeling Grungy. (Laughs) But I wear a lot of flares.
Do you
own a pair of Acid Washed Jeans? They’re the shit.
Yes. I
have a pair.
Do you
watch Grey’s Anatomy?
No. not
really. I’ve watched a few episodes when we did that song. But you can get
sucked into pretty much anything. But that song was easy. I researched quite a
bit. There was tons of information online. And they gave us a very clear brief.
Which made everything easier. But I mean so many people watch that show.
Anushka, why do you sing at all? What are you trying to fill
up?
Oh. Look
it makes me feel good. I feel intense euphoria. There’s a sense of power. To
create something. It’s very heady. I want to share this feeling with others.
There were a few arguments I’ve come beyond: making music that you like vs.
making music that people like. Sitting in a room playing a song vs. playing on
stage. I’m boiling it down to something simpler. Going out and doing something
that makes you feel good. I think it’s brave. You’re setting yourself up to be
judged. That's never easy.
I have a
feeling Gen Y is great at love-at-first-sight and horrible at letting go. What
were you doing in the 90s?
(Chuckles)
Gen Y?
We’re
Generation Y: born in the mid-eighties, grown up in the 90s. I shouldn’t have
said Gen Y. (Chuckles)
No you
should't have. But school, I guess. I was a topper in my class. I was one of
those girls. (Laughs)
Oh no.
We're taking turns saying "Oh No" - have you noticed?
(Laughs)
Yes I have. I was watching MTV – the request shows. You had some of those
horrible Hindi songs. But I opened a library where I’d rent books to people. I
love reading. You know, it was sneaking the car out, learning how to drive.
They had an umbrella lock. You know what that is? There was this boy in my
school, class 3 or 4.
Did he
say it? Did he say it?
No he
did not. (Laughs) You boys.
I was of course referring
to the evergreen: “I’ll show you mine – you show me yours”. We totally should
have done that.
Anushka
was still just a girl – down the neighborhood, some 1,400 Kilometers north. But
it was the same generation, and the same backyard. This was the
90s. This was hot wax, pillows and hair bands. Everything was that
much brighter.
Anushka: (Laughs)
I used to play pretend - radio shows. I once taped over dad’s copy of a
Metallica album. I can’t remember which one. He was so upset. But you know, we
tried cigarettes – Navy Cuts. The dirty stuff.
How Tom
Waits of you.
(Laughs)
I was seeing this guy. It was very dodgy. Mum laid a few rules; no entering the
bedroom. Dad used to follow me out of the house sometimes. So I’d hide. But you
know, I’m not that sentimental. I’m just emotional.
Are you
high maintenance?
I used
to think I wasn’t. I was convinced of it. But turns out I am. That’s what my
boyfriend tells me.
Poor
guy. So what does the basic Anushka Manchanda come with?
Headphones, motorcycle –
a vintage, a Matt Grey Triumph motorcycle, mirrorball, black leather jacket
(Pauses). I can’t seem to list this out for you. Is it fair to say I come
with loyalty? I wear it. I’ve bagged a lot of love from home. I have the best
parents in the world. (Pauses) You know, this is a stupid
question.
No it isn't. But okay.
When we spoke last you said you had a lot going on. Why are you burning yourself out? What joy are you
getting out of not having time for creativity?
No no.
That’s not true. (Pauses) I work like a dog. But I’m happiest when I’m doing
that. I'm working on it. I’m trying to make time to catch up on reading. I love
reading. I’ve made some time. I remember I did 4 shows in a day last December.
But I’m not burning myself out. I work it out of my system. I attend these
Psychedelic Music festivals at least once a year. Its six days of letting go.
And I just explode. I dance and dance and dance. I love dancing. (ummfffhhh)
Note to
self. Makes sexual sounds.
(Laughs)
Parent’s
obsession with vinyl. Ever feel like locking yourself in a room with a
Gramophone and not taking calls?
Oh. Not
quite like that. My parents, they played the most fantastic music at the time.
Mum was an air hostess. Dad was sailing. They collected records. They jammed
their money; you know what that is right? They jammed their money and bought
this big ass sound system. It was great. I had those records for the longest
time. This Hendrix record, with the Gods behind him. It was something else. I
remember it.
“Bold as
love”.
What?
That’s
the record – “Bold as love”.
Is it?
It fantastic. I wanted to steal them.
Are you
your own worst enemy?
If I
listen to myself as much as I expect other people listen to me I wouldn’t be.
Sometimes I am.
How do
you remain organic with these industrial sounds around you?
I’m not
organic. The only thing organic is the feeling. Now that is very organic. These
sounds I’m working on are electronic. That’s the music. I’m processing so many
sounds. Getting creative with sounds, and textures. But got to tell you, it’s
very inspired.
You like
board games?
Backgammon.
What on
Earth is that?
You
don’t know Backgammon? (Laughs) How can you not know it? It’s an old people
game. I used to play a lot of Pictionary. Board game nights. Great stuff.
What’s
your wish-list like? Still want to sing "Dude looks like a lady" with
Aerosmith (Laughs).
Yes. I
would still love to do that. I want to work with artists whose work I think is
amazing. To learn from them. I’m teaching myself production. Putting ideas
together. It’s a process. I want the sound to be sex for the ears. But I want a
room with a view if you know what I’m saying. And I want my own Mangrove. I
don’t really day-dream. Not that person. But I get lost sometimes.
It’s very "Dory" from Finding Nemo. But I mean look at me
now. It’s late at night. My dog is sleeping out here. I have an out-door dining
table. Its covered.
Like an
Altar?
(Laughs)
No. What? Altar? (Laughs) I feel like I’m breathing. I’m free. I’m so alive. My
bike’s here. But it’s all greased up. My legs are killing me.
Why?
I can’t
sit and talk. So I’ve been walking all over talking to you.
Shit.
Nut. Are all your roads taking you home?
Where
else will they go? Isn’t that what gives you all the security you need? That’s
why you’re strong to go out.
What do
you want your epitaph to say?
"She
had a blast".
Now. No
bullshit. But I hope you leave behind a body of work and be remembered for it.
No creative goodbyes. Not a girl like you. Sleep tight, I’ll see you soon.
Aww.
Thank you. Good night yourself.
Goodnights are great
rituals, they farewell the white noise that circles us like vultures through
the mornings, afternoons, and evenings of days. So I said goodnight and
turned on the damn TV. They were showing "Vanilla Sky". There’s
a beautiful line in it: "Every passing minute is another chance to turn it
all around"… he says… "I’ll see you in another life, when we’re both
cats".
I guess Anushka saved me a re-birth. But cats are stylish. She's
busy these days: a new record – re-inventions, labor, birth, pain,
breastfeeding, sore nipples, R.E.M, running scared, crying, coping, lullabies,
Vodka Cranberry. She’s right; it’s a brave thing – going out, even to a
party.
Anushka called herself a seahorse in dire need of a line. That's
just bullshit. She doesn't need one. That kid's tapped into something else
- the powers of letting go. She’s sacred when she's naked. And I guess
she’s readying to have her baby – bet she's enjoying all the kicks.
Motherhood
baby.
