Week 2: In which the writer's maternal instincts surface, and a new Venky is born

Remember I said something seemingly premature and presumptuous about how this competition isn’t going to be pretty? You thought I was kidding, didn’t you? If you weren’t there, you should’ve been.

No, I’m not writing about Venky, so you’re not going to hear a long-winded syrupy discourse on the wonders of Venky; especially not about how he makes such a beautiful little Jim Morrison. He and his cigarette politely spurned my musically-inclined advances on Wednesday, when I begged him to take part, so not a word about him. Pattooee. I spit on you.

I am not going to speak about Venky, because the times have changed. This season, ladies and gentlemen, Neville is the new Venky! I tell you. All these young boys come and sing with these big old fluffy voices. You’ve got to understand you can’t repeatedly do this to us. Women my age not only find it immensely disturbing that we are, indeed, old and past our prime, we also begin to see thousands of hitherto concealed advantages to being The Older Woman.

Then there was Adarsh who drifted on to the stage in all his skinny glory, whiskey and cigarette in hand, proving that men can, in fact, multi-task. What’s more, he sang a song that, in the vast ocean of alleged love songs, actually does something in that area. Adarsh did a decent job of Romeo and Juliet, and I clapped loudly and his whiskey smiled at me.

There was Barry with one of his mad magic mixes, which was probably the highlight of the evening. Barry alone is a stageful, but when little Jordan Menzel decided to join him on stage it was a little too much to handle. I think my womb sort of leapt on to my lap and did a little jig to remind me of my dormant maternal instincts. Mrs. JJ came back with another ironed shirt and a far better performance. Don’t Look Back In Anger suited him just fine, although he didn’t make the cut. Come back JJ! We’ll all go rounding in your car!

Then there was an overload of deadly voices, at the end of which my soul was writhing on the floor begging for mercy. Ravi with a classic rendition of Roadhouse Blues was another Jim Morrison heart-stopper. I personally think it was a little shocking that he was shown the doors. Ravi, please come back next Wednesday. I think you like, totally deserved to make it, y’know, and the fact that you didn’t, is, to quote Avril Lavigne, like so whatever.

While we’re on the topic, I think another person who should have sailed through, was Remya. Remya, you sang absolutely fantastically, and I will eat my non-existent hat if you don’t make it next week. So come back.

There was Rooshad next, and Mark Rego, who both did songs they’ve done before. There’s an obvious reason why they picked the same songs. Rooshad does a brilliant Save The Last Dance For Me. Almost makes you want to do as he tells you, if you’re the dancing kind. Mark, besides doing absolute justice to Billy Joel’s You May Be Right, also pulled off some questionable moves with a very terrified microphone. What a man. He’s got booze, brains, Billy and a belly dance.

The three who made it this week, are Neville, Mark Rego and Rooshad Garda. From what they pulled off on stage, I can’t wait to see these three in the rounds to come. But I just want to mention again, that I can’t wait to see Ravi and Remya back either. And that I’m still not talking about Venky.

Mamma’s Boys

Yay! I have so many!

Barry
I just want to say that men may come and men may go, but Tam Brahm Software Engineers will go on forever. Especially this one, with its strange mutation that hadn’t surfaced in our Tam Brahm till he came by: talent AND sex appeal. I don’t care what people say, you CAN touch this.

Jordan Menzel
The only non-singer from Wednesday to make it to this list. Jordan, I hope someday your parents show you this. I have a very weak heart, and if adorable little babies like you keep being adorable, I might just not make it through the season. You are lovely. And, err, alarmingly young for someone with so much talent.

Ravi
I’ve already said everything I want to say. Come back.

Neville
Ditto. You will, of course, be back.

Chickies In My Pen

Remya
You’re the only chickie in my pen this week. You sounded absolutely lovely. I can’t think of one reason why you didn’t make it, except, perhaps, three. The ones that made it. Still. Waiting with bated breath for you to prove my point next week.