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Every Mother's...

L to R: Amit, Vikrant, Sameer and Arunabh

"Oh I'll take you, you are mine.

Got the nerve?

That's for you to find

You're a man of God

He may be on your side

But now evil rules, while the goodness dies"

"Usually, my lyrics are very different. I talk about everything around me. I never write love songs. They turn out too sad or too angry, they're on the dark side and that's funny, because I'm basically a happy guy," muses Vikrant.

They fuel their practice sessions with what they laughingly call "our beefing sessions" at Hauz Rani, while the air turns blue from rock talk and the wafting smoke from kebabs on the spit. They get goodwill and a deaf ear from their generous parents who allow them to get together and play in one another's homes.

Inconsequentially, Arunabh adds, "The first time I went to Ankur's place, I drank vodka and puked all over." On such things is solidarity built. Sometimes they spend six hours a week -- especially when Arunabh and Sameer were busy swotting for their exams. "If we are doing a new song, then we spend 12 hours or more jamming. Usually we get so involved when we are preparing for a show, we don't really notice how much time we are putting into it," says Amit.

Unlike most other bands, Every Mother's Nightmare has no qualms about performing in the off-season, January to August. And now that both Sameer and Arunabh are out of school, they are likely to play at every opportunity. But they draw the line at playing genteel music with no muscle -- even if it is a more dependable source of money.

"We were to audition for this hotel. But, somehow, when we were in that genteel, hushed, enclosed atmosphere, we froze. We just couldn't do it." Certainly the management couldn't have considered decibel level when they decided to audition a heavy metal band!

They feel that given the iffy status of rock in Delhi, their future as a band depends on their own strength and cohesiveness. "It is very rare to find five people who get together and have no ego problems. Other people take a band as a band, but we are not just a band -- we are one family." The true emotion with which Sameer says this dissolves in the good-natured boos that greet his analysis.

Tilting his chair back, Amit adds a sober note, "It's true we have no attitude problems. And that is how a band survives. Look at Parikrama. They have been together for six or seven years now and they have a professional, dedicated and very good stage act." This leads to a digression that moves from the sublime to the ridiculous...

Arunabh: "We don't talk to the crowd, that's the problem."

Vikrant, indignant: "I do talk to the crowd."

Sameer, pouring oil on troubled waters: "It'll come with time."

Arunabh in retrospect: "We'll slowly get more confident. Can't expect that much (in reference to Parikrama's polished performance) when we are an opening band."

Ankur, uncompromising: "It's not eight months or eight years, you either have an act or you don't."

Sameer: "We need gimmicks. Parikrama uses pyrotechnics and they jump around a lot."

Vikrant in justification: "I have to concentrate on my singing."

Arunabh, in parenthesis: "Look at this," running an anguished hand through his hair, "how can you play rock with such short hair?"

All five have few illusions about earning their bread and butter with rock. Sameer has started teaching music at Vasant Valley, one of the more progressive schools in Delhi today. "The kids enjoy themselves, even the little guys in prep get a kick out of singing nursery rhymes. I guess because I'm just out of school myself, I identify with them and have built up a good rapport."

Vikrant has undertaken a correspondence course in engineering while he continues with his B Sc from Delhi University. As if that were not enough, he also took the entrance exam for a course in mass communication at Jamia Milia University. "To please his girlfriend's parents," quip his companions. "To make some money," he says, trying to keep a straight face. He almost makes it. "Maybe I can do music videos," he muses. "They are all dreams. If nothing works out, I can go and sit at a shop in Sadar," he adds wryly.

Amit is studying political science at the university and currently doing a course in multimedia. "Bahut sare (Very many) media," his pals chorus on cue in a Thomson and Thompson routine.

Ankur has a busy plan, what with chartered accountancy from Indira Gandhi National Open University, a three year course in software engineering from NIIT and a hardware and networking course from ET & T where he might shortly have a part-time job.

Arunabh is resting content, with the last big hurdle only just past. He says wistfully, "If I was really rich, I'd have a good guitar." He's a jump ahead of the others who are just shaping up to earn a living! Besides, he has other things on his mind, "You know, I've run away from home," he says with disarming candour. "And my girlfriend is really angry with me."

I volunteer a cautious "Why?" not quite sure if I'm being played for a fool.

"Because she can't ring him up," says Ankur succinctly.

"What will you do now?" I ask with a touch of concern. "Oh, I'm going back tomorrow evening."

Whatever they plan, it all comes back to music. "It's been flying for us. We started playing for fun. We got a little money, got a little fame," says Ankur. They got a little ambition and now they're hooked.

What is it about rock that hits the teens of any generation? "It's all basically raw," says Arunabh who started playing the guitar when he was in senior school in Kuwait.

"It's speed, noise, it's highly technical," offers Ankur.

Sameer comes to the heart of it, "It's a state of expression, when you put your emotions into music."

"Hey, I'd like two days away to a place

No one has ever known

And in a state of mind

That I could call mine

That only I could own

Where I can hum a tune

Anytime I choose

- And there is no such thing as time -

Where I can feel no pain

Just calm and sane

Oh what a place for one to find"

And they continue to vitalise their performance with lyrics like the above -- taken from self-composition titled I Wonder. "All of us have improved a lot. There's been a drastic change in the way we play together," says Amit.

They are anything but deluded about their chances in the real world. But if faith can move mountains, what's a little rock?