I cried when Michael died

I’m not a big music aficionado; don’t have music Gods, hence never really worshipped Michael. But when I read the news on June 25th, 2009 that Michael is dead, I was shocked, like everybody else. The entire day I was restless and kept going through every possible online newspaper and blog to re-confirm. But the news stayed firm. Michael Jackson was gone.

I watched his public memorial service on TV, on July 7th, and with my eyes on Michael’s face I thought…was he really him? There was a constant notion inside me that this entire death episode was a hoax from the press guys or a premeditated move from Michael, given the child-like self he is. I felt he would spring back to life and say “Hey World, I Scared You, Didn’t I.” But alas, he lay fixed on his bed. As I watched his farewell that night, I cried buckets, as if a family member had died, as if Michael was a part of my life.

I was never a very big fan of Michael but I have been listening to him since my school days…I had him in my Sony Walkman, I saw him dance on MTV and Channel V. “Thriller, I am bad, Billie Jean, Scream, Remember the time, Black or white, They don’t care about us”…I loved all of them. But beyond listening I didn’t do anything more. I don’t think I even bought a single CD! Now when I reminisce, I see that I was fascinated more by Michael, the larger-than-life, eccentric black man turned white, rather than Michael, the King of Pop.

I think I listened less to him and read more about him. I read about how his face and color had changed over the years, how he was attached to his three children and how he wasn’t their biological father. I read about his Neverland Ranch, about his relationship with his estranged father, about his ex-wives, his probable affair with the nanny of his children, his gay lovers, about how lonely he was, about his doctors and his addiction to prescription medicines, about how dissatisfied he was with his face, about how a boy from Norway resembles Michael and could be his fourth child, about his ambitious ‘This Is It tour’ and how he was required to do 50 shows, and everything and anything on him.

It’s been four years now. Yet I am seeking him and somewhere deep down, I still believe his death is just an illusion or a strategy for a holiday spree in a faraway land sans the paparazzi. Someday, I wish, he came back and surprised everybody.

I am waiting, Michael.