Stigmata’s Indian Saga of tragedy, triumph and more tragedy – Part 1

The SAARC Band Festival; one band from each SAARC country, a 3 day carnival of sound and rhyme from the 30th November to the 2nd of December 2007 at Central Park, Connaught Place, New Delhi. It was one thing to represent Sri Lanka at this hallowed festival… it means a lot more to know that the ONLY artiste representing the country was to be an Extreme Metal Band. We were also the ONLY Metal Band on the entire bill. Obviously all the mediocre, predictable, count by the numbers replicates of post alternative glory along with all the anti-metal and anti-Stigz hoards must have a whole lot more to be pissed off about with us.

Lovely B)

Stigmata is known for its share of triumph not without uncomfortably basking in the shade of tragedy. So come the 30th of November and the plan is simple; our flight is at 3pm from Colombo to Chennai, after a 3 hour transit then we are off to Delhi; our destination. Once all is packed, padlocks are bought and we are ready to roll… we bid farewell to our trusty entourage of friends and metalheads and first decide to head out to a printers to collect some corporate literature of the Bands’. First strike’s here… the printer’s late and he’s yet to arrive from his workshop to the office.

Calls keep arriving with final words of encouragement to whoop mega-ass, and after what seemed to be eons the stuff arrives, we watch as it is sliced to perfection by a large manual cutting-machine and then we rush and the time must surely be close to 1pm.

After one cigarette stop (insisted by the smokers in the Band) and another pit-stop to grab something to eat we make it to the airport in the very nick of time. Emphasis should be drawn on ‘nick’. The Indian Airlines counter is closed for the day and after some enquiry a lady comes hastily along with a rather energetic (but evidently annoyed) chap who check us in, in lightening speed reminding us that we are very late. After a close shave with disaster we board the plane and are on our way to Chennai.

Now here’s where the Spinal Tap meets Stephen King episodes begin; hark the herald tragedy!

In Chennai we realize that we are stuck in transit and viewed like a pack of wild animals. It ain’t bad enough we have to wait for 3 fucking hours, but after the tedious and irksome wait we are informed that the flight is delayed a few hours. So we wait. It’s Coffee, juice and humor and when we hear there’s few minutes more to go for check in – we stumble upon the horrific realization that Andrew’s suitcase is missing. It’s been flicked for sure, and the best part is no one is willing to help us locate it. We are told to put an entry in the nearest Chennai Police Station – just as if that would have helped anything or anyone – when the Chennai airport ought to claim full responsibility for all luggage processed, vandalized and lost… fat fucking chance of that ever happening. So things are pretty clear… no luggage, Andrew and Vije are missing who’ve gone to locate the missing luggage and the queues to Delhi are filing up. Only then do we discover that the flight to Delhi has apparently been cancelled. So boo fucking hoo… I venture forth to meet the Duty Manager; who within minutes is swamped by angry and bashful hoards of passengers demanding to know what’s to happen to their flight… For a brief moment or two I seem like a grasshopper amidst some very angry lizards and before the verbal abuse and physical carnage begins I waltz out of the Duty Manager’s office and join the rest of the merry (or not so merry) pack. We watch as large sums of people scream, go hysterical and look like they are ready for a Royal Rumble all on their own; such amusement.

So after a great deal of effort I finally convince the organizers (who are stationed at Delhi and claim there’s nothing they can do) that we need to crash somewhere for the night. So our flight is scheduled for the next morning, we have about 3 or 4 hours so we are checked in to a posh sounding place called Mount Haera. Posh my arse… it was straight off a Stephen King (Or James Herbert depending on your cup of tea) novel for sure as the receptionist – one of many as we would soon discover – can’t speak English and speaks to us in Hindi. After what seemed like a hysterical caricature of ‘Give us a Clue’ we check in… decent rooms that mask the reality that:

A) These rooms have not been occupied in awhile by man or beast.
B) The toilets have been flooded with so much detergent you can feel your brain melting inside.
C) The food was downright terrible.
D) They bring Hot-water (for showers) in flasks!?! :crazy:

After a very uncomfortable haze of light slumber we are up and ready to hit the airport early morning. We get to the airport, things seem ok… and we are on board to fly to Delhi. Everyone’s weary, tired, hungry and wondering how much rest we’ll get before our sound check. We hit Delhi, clear our gear and then we try getting through to the man in charge of us; ringing but no answer. So we call the organizers and after awhile some guy calls us and starts yelling in Hindi. We try talking to him in English and Tamil; to no avail… and by a great stroke of luck we find a strange looking chap holding a folded SAARC Festival poster (which he’d folded to the point of anyone just seeing SAA)… They call it spontaneous delivery we call it the ‘I’ Factor.

After a long drive (we keep asking the driver questions and he just keeps driving with no expression or response) we finally reach the Gandhi Dharshan; a fantastic complex ala sanctuary built in the memory of the late great Gandhi… like a mini-Peradeniya of sorts. A place that offers the lush rapture of nature, it’s 6-7 degrees in the mornings and it’s an architectural opus. Awesome place… so far…

We check in; get 3 rooms… Andrew and Jacky in one room, Tenny and Vije in the other and then Me - all by myself. Nice tripped out place… there’s a heater in every room, an empty perfectly functioning fridge in each room and a tiny stool in every loo; which even a Smurf couldn’t stand on. We don’t get much rest; how can we… we are wondering when or at what time we’ll hear from the organizers, what time the sound check will be along with a zillion other things.

So I get a ring from one of the main organizers saying that we have a one hour sound check as previously agreed but that Stigz must stop at a leading club in Delhi to be interviewed by MTV. We are guaranteed that we’ll have our own changing rooms and we’ll have time to prepare for the gig.

You see many presume that playing in a Metal Band is just about getting inebriated to the point of no return and then to play as diligently as possible while looking like a set of jungle fowl in mating season… not quite so… this isn’t hip hop… sorry…

Playing what we play demands a lot of physical resolve, fitness and focus… we have to be psychologically rigid, emotionally tuned in and spiritually liberated. It isn’t about going and playing technical/challenging stuff but to play it to perfection, to make it look bloody easy and to have a blast rippin’ and rollin’ on stage…

That’s why so many people hate us. That’s why so many belligerent, incompetent excuses for human flesh sacks waste their precious hours and time visiting our personal web pages and blogs hoping to stir some shit so they can coil around their silicone thrones & sleep at night. Sleep easy… piss easy. We have a powerful and strong brand with us… we’ve created value for it throughout 7 years of hard work and perseverance. We know what we can and can’t do… We know we kick ass and never compromise. Here’s the fucking lowdown… WE believe in ourselves and have grown from strength to strength. Musically we’ve been able to keep pushing the envelope of sound, nuance and design… lyrically we’ve managed to touch upon issues that are surrealistic, honest, personal, social, realistic but all the more relevant to not just us but our listeners. Artistically it’s to give birth to something that stimulates and seduces the senses with no mercy… And to find therapy and ritual in giving our 101% every single time… just food for thought you know…
It never ceases to amaze me how many people waste their time visiting private blogs so they could shag some words in the form of insults and have a go right at us, our friends, our peers and our friends. Rather cowardly if you ask me… but then, it’s second nature for cowards to fire blanks.

Back to Delhi – So we have a wash, change and grab a quick something to eat (a mouth watering pro-vegetable meal that rocks) and wait for our transport to arrive. It comes late and then off we are to a joint called @ Restaurant where Music Television is waiting for us.

Stigmata are wet, tensed and ready to seize the day and show India what Sri Lankan Metal sounds like and how much of a bite it packs.

The countdown has begun… And a whole lot of people are gonna be Sweating Bullets.

To be continued…