Friday, 9 November 2012

Disc- Jockey, Rupa, whatever

Life is a bunch of weird and forgettable experiences. And I had a specially weird one recently.                      

It's called DJ Nite.

DJ Nite  /ˈdēˌjā,nīt/
Noun : A modernistic cultural program led by a person, standing on a high podium with a torture weapon
           called 'turntable', who uses it to repeatedly and mercilessly assault on the fragile eardrums of victims
           who have fallen prey to the tyrannies of electronic music, and calls himself/herself DJ

If you have attended these earlier, you might have spotted an overwhelmingly awkward person staring cynically at the rest of the swaying humanity around and simultaneously doubting the reason of his existence there. Well, that's me.

So, this DJ Nite, (Yes, it's Nite, not Night, because Nite is cooler as it looks 75% like Lite) I am talking about, was so jam-packed with zombies swinging in simple-harmonic motion, that my lungs had to extract O2  from CO2  to avoid asphyxiation. (On a historical note, Hitler's concentration camps were nothing but only-Jews-get-the-passes DJ Nites, conducted in ill-ventilated halls.)

The crowds here are a pervert's paradise, because, the delight of a pervert joyously making a way through the throng, is comparable only to the ecstasy of a child who is lost in a chocolate-cloud, with Pokemons and Doraemon circling him, in Noddy's car, driven by Harry Potter.                                                                              

And this is also a problem for the righteous souls because this high density audience here, may lead to a person catching AIDS, merely by trying to keep his head from fusing into the neighbor's armpits.

Now, coming to the music- I have always, since infancy, fantasized about hearing a robot rape a piano, tuned to high bass in a loudspeaker. It seems, they have now given a name to it. Skrillex. It's almost an aural holocaust, hearing the same tune being played over and over again until your auditory neurons, thankfully, break the loop and you end up deaf. In fact, amputating and stitching together totally unrelated songs seemed more justified to me after hearing this insanity called 'Electronic Dance Music'.

Anyways, to camouflage myself in this musical apocalypse, I desperately tried to dance and ended up looking like a polio patient showing his moves, after being overly inspired by watching Step Up 3D, three times. Then, I slowly disappeared from the place displaying my amateurish ninja-skills and later poured coolants in my ear to dissolve the atrocities faced by it before.

And finally tried my last chance at luck to regain sanity by listening to Coke Studio.


  1. Concentration Camp analogy... Imba _/\_

    PS: Step Up 4 has released on DC