Dec 02, 2023
Dec 02, 2023
They called him an eccentric, a crazy man right on his face; a man who had no dressing sense, no social-civic sense - he hid his emotions behind those sweet smiles, must have wanted to cry out loud but he had no one to turn to, no shoulder to lean on rather all around him were running after him as the hunting dogs chasing a quiet little rabbit looking out for a burrow to hide himself in.
Every time he felt he had found a friend, a confidante to confide in, he was backstabbed surrounded by not one but innumerable Judas. He became a recluse, as they called him; for more than a decade not giving interviews nor talking about himself to the people. Finding no solace anywhere, he had no choice but to go back to those wolves in human skin and getting torn up bit by bit every moment of his life.
Having had no childhood of his own, as he often reminisced with tears in his eyes, he tried to compensate for the lost time, in the company of the little children. He had a beautiful grand amusement park and a lovely zoo built up inside the compound of his own home. Weekly tours were organized for the children from all parts of the world, especially taking care of the terminally ill children for whom he even had special rooms with all the medical facilities. He loved the children, he often quoted. Surrounded by children, he relived his childhood which was snatched away by destiny. Bringing smiles on the faces of the sick or underprivileged children made him feel as if he was living his own childhood, the one he could not live as a child, he never failed to mention every time he talked about his love for the little ones.
At the age of three, he started working, performing on stage and by the time he could realise what he was missing, his childhood had long gone by. Spanked and rebuked by his strictly disciplinarian father, he would often hide in his room, locking himself in at the very sight of his father. Thrashed and tortured on refusing to perform, on wanting to play with the kids of his own age, he never got to live the life of a normal child. The days when the other kids were playing on the roads, swinging on the swings in the parks, he was busy practicing, recording, peforming or travelling for the shows. Earning at a tender age pushed him into the limelight when he should have been studying and enjoying a carefree life. He was famous. But he yearned for the little joys that were to be missed forever, throughout his life.
Everyone saw the glint of the crown but failed to see the gloominess, the loneliness, the yearning for love, the pleadings to be understood in the beautiful black eyes that lay hidden behind those lovely curls of the tresses that often fell on his face as he shook his head. He had learnt to live with all that came his way but deep inside was heartbroken and shattered.
In the interviews, nobody talked about the great work he had been doing, about the achievements he had successfully achieved, about the great artiste that he was; rather they interviewed him with the only purpose of humiliating and belittling him by putting the most embarrassing questions they could making him shudder at the very thought of the lowest levels of their mental standards. 'If I got to meet Michaelangelo some day, I would have talked to him about his work,' he hinted in one of the interviews.
The rumours were too many to be handled by the sensitive heart. They pricked and stabbed like poison-laden arrows from all sides as the enemies were numerous. But who were ‘they’? As Socrates said in his last speech, ‘they’ are the ‘invisible enemies’ whom the individual has to fight but ‘they’ often win. His pure heart and lonely soul misjudged people and he trusted them too soon. Perhaps, that’s how it is when one is stuck in between those who overtake every aspect of one’s life and who capture all the thought process and the person no longer is allowed to think or act, live or enjoy according to his own wishes because every word of his, every act of his is used to dig money. That’s the price one pays for all the success and fame that makes him what he is.
The children with whom he spent hours laughing around, entertaining them as their personal guide, showing around his home, the amusement park, the zoo; those whose medical bills he paid for the treatment of their serious illnesses; whom he showered all his love upon; when they accused him of sexual abuse and misconduct, he was crestfallen. He had failed again to recognize the people. Of course, he trusted them. And, as usual, was betrayed again. But this time, something in him was broken forever, never to be mended again. A pedophile would never announce to the world how much he loved the kids, rather he would hide his love if he had evil intentions. His innocent trust on the world threw him in deep waters. He still forgave all, but the world never accepted the kind hearted man in his purity.
The money-digger parents of the kids extracted a huge amount of money from him. Though the court proved him innocent and acquitted him of all charges, the damage had already been done. His life was never going to be the same again suffering the greatest setback of his life. He cut off from the world, left his home, shut down the amusement park, closed the zoo and confined himself to his own shell.
But they did not leave him alone and continued to humiliate him at every possible occasion. He was lonely and they made him feel lonelier. He left the country, but was convinced to return, making a comeback on stage for which he reluctantly agreed for he was in need of money. All that he wanted was to live for his three little children whom he loved more than anything else in the whole wide world.
But they, the ruthless ones, never thought about those little angels when they eventually killed him in cold blood a month before he was to set out to travel for the last tour of his life –‘THIS IS IT’.
(The narrative is based on a real life story of the 'King of Pop- Michael Jackson'.
The title of the narrative has been inspired by the name of the Last Proposed Tour of Michael Jackson- 'This Is It' which was to be held from July 2009 but was cancelled as Jackson died in June 2009.
The narrative is a humble tribute to the King of Pop on his birthday- 29th August.)
More by : Dr. Giti Tyagi
|Thanks a lot to the Editor for adding the photo (with the narrative) of Michael Jackson's beautiful eyes that had a lot many stories to tell.|