Taste of Acid, Myth of Hope ************************ The news is almost laughable these days ý especially when the terror level has been heightened from yellow to orange. I call it almost laughable cause I shouldnýt be laughing at such grave matters of security. Nevertheless, after what I experienced last Thursday night, the alert of terrorism sounds absolutely ridiculous to me. A week before we decided to go to ozzfest, my cool-junkie friend had asked me about the status of security. Apparently, he wanted to bring some fresh ýtacosý from up north. I warned him honestly saying that there were security checks even in trains with those vicious sniff dogs. ýhmmmý he had motioned. He was too cool a junkie to let go of nirvana due to some heightened security. His ýhmmmý itself was very profound. Anyways, when we saw swarms of police officers outside the venue, my warning was justified. We had been so paranoid about the whole scenario that we didnýt bring any bags, cameras, or gadgets like other folks. But it was only momentary. After that, everything fell into place. There were no security checks. The only check was for the authenticity of the tickets. The guard who went over my body, distinctly felt the cell phone in my jacket. He didnýt even bother to ask what it was. For a sold out concert with approximately 25-30 thousand people jampacked for the whole day, this to me was incredible. It even angered me a bit. But it was ozzfest after all. What was I complaining about ý fest that defies everything mainstream. Soon, I found myself screaming in unison with thousands of other screaming fans. Amidst what I would normally call weirdos, psychos, and white trashes, I found one implicit truth. This was the mecca of music. Noone really gave a damn about someone setting off the trigger for the bomb or the gun. The only thing I saw getting triggered were lighters to set off their bongs, pipes and ciggies and everyone achieving their utopia. At the heart of the electrifying ear deafening metal music, a security helicopter hovered past the ampitheater. A man, perhaps in his sixties, who had come with his entire family, including his two teenage daughters raised his middle finger to the helicopter. If u r an orthdox person like me whoýs not too much into the cult of music, but not completely out of it, this would seem absolutely uncalled for. Rebellion is perhaps the soul of heavy metal, but even within this rebellion, they refuse to yield to or live in paranoia like thousands of us go through in this great country. If this were some other place, even from distance, me and my friend would only fit the profiles that FBI do random checks everyday. Here, noone moved an inch ý noone even gave me a look like they did in Connecticut especially when I had my French beard growing. This sixty year old even passed his joint to my friend. The only thing that prevented me from accepting this gift was my microbiology class. Even in that intoxicating lethal blend of music, beer and smoke laden lawn, my mind was using its rationale to find that divide, row and the rift that exists in the world today. Suddenly, I came to the most outrageous conclusion. I wondered scholars, political pundits and worldwide leaders who seek to end terrorism and bring peace to this world are the very culprits who help to fuel the world with hatred, anger and cause that irreparable rift with one another through their very work of scholarly acclaim, indepth research and twists and turns of facts into subtle messages of fear. That was the only thing that made sense to me at the time. Even after the show having to spend 5 hours in the cold train station for the morning train, noone bothered us. If 25 thousand or so junkies donýt see any difference among us and shout in unison and follow what they enjoy, why canýt we the conscious-educated-peace seeking creatures embrace peace and live in harmony. I donýt know but I couldnýt hold back anymore. I raised my fist and made that gesture of index and little finger up for ozzy succumbing to their satanic cult. If the very dark frenzy of music can unite people together, this gesture to me was the sign of peace and hope. That was the most gratifying feeling I have had ever since my venture into the west. If someone were to look to ozzfest culture than just from the perspective of mayhem of drugs and appetite for destruction of the junkies, thereýs a lesson to be learnt ý perhaps a very important one. Kudos to slayer, judaspriest and black Sabbath !!They rocked.