Chopra：紀念我的朋友傑克遜

來源：MJJCN.com翻譯：QWency
作者： Gotham Chopra



Deepak and Gotham were also Michael Jackson's friends.
 

Deepak Chopra and his son Gotham Chopra
作者是傑克遜多年的家庭朋友

當我上中學的時候，我的朋友傑克遜邀請我與他一起進行巡演。他整個夏天都在歐洲為他最新專輯《危險》做當時最大的巡迴演出。我祈求父母讓我去。那時我們認識傑克遜已經很多年了，並且逐漸建立了友誼。他曾經來過我的位於波士頓郊區的家中，並且在那裏待了好多天。有誰能夠忘記那段時光，他早晨就笨拙的將他的床放到了客廳裏，試圖給我媽媽留下印象，這樣他可能會再次被邀請？還有他為我和姐姐做的那頓糟糕的早餐，我們在喉嚨裏難以下嚥，但他在仔細的看這我們，我們還要強顏歡笑？撇開他是這個星球上最出名的明星不說，他更是一個可愛善良的傢伙，所以最後我的爸爸媽媽答應讓我去參加。

用一個詞來描述：那是不可能的，因為一個詞是遠遠不夠的。作為一個十七歲，同時是這位世界上已知的最偉大的明星的朋友，真的很難用語言來描述他。我們去過巴黎、羅馬、倫敦、慕尼克、雅典甚至更多的地方，我們所到的每一個城市都關閉了為的是招待他。邁克爾所到之處，都有成千上萬臺攝像機跟在後面。，嗡嗡聲一直回響著，他那名望的光芒照耀著他。我能感覺到那種光芒的力量，他經常會帶上軟呢帽、那標志性的墨鏡，穿上那華麗的夾克。百事為我們提供了私人飛機、員警護送、行軍士兵（這是MJ的一個無法解釋的愛好），傑克遜享受著他的名望，特別開心，因為這比他已經做過的事情都要重要的多。他開玩笑，說我可以在我喜歡的任何時候與他一起坐前排。他知道我是他的替身，他對此非常開心。

在演出前到達體育場後，當他進行精心的演出前例行事務，並且給服裝部開會的時候，我漫步走上舞臺，在那裏有一堆人在舞臺上，許多錄音師、工程師、場務在搭建巨大的舞臺，為演出做好準備。每一場演出前四五個小時，都會有上千的粉絲簇擁上前，想等演出開始的時候盡可能離MJ近一些。甚至在演出之前，四，五個小時，成千上萬的粉絲會盡可能地簇擁向前，盡可能接近MJ。相信你在錄影中看到了那些瘋狂的粉絲，有脫水眩暈的，所以忙碌的醫護人員不得不把他們抬出了人群中。我親眼近距離看到過，甚至是粉絲被許多人壓在了下麵，這種情況出現過 一兩 次。

在演出期間，有時我會徘徊在舞臺周圍，觀察傑克遜的殺傷力。這樣一個男人知道如何表演，就像是一個默念，只需要被證明一樣。有時，我會在更衣室附近，給九個人準備糖果，橙汁和遊戲機。

表演結束後，傑克遜也退到更衣室，然後不得不尷尬的站在那裏會見貴賓，名流，贊助商還有那些取得後臺特權的人們。很容易看得出來，他在100,000人面前唱歌跳舞的時候比和一群人社交要舒適的多。

在那些例行公事之後，我和他回到他的酒店，那裏有全市最大最高級的套房。傑克遜幾乎總有那麼一個放映老電影，放置糖果和橙汁的地方。甚至當上千仰慕他的粉絲在下面的街道上反復叫他的名字，我們也還是會聊音樂、電影、電視游戲、女孩，偶爾也會聊聊人生的意義。

但那時一些意想不到的事情發生了。那種敬畏感對我來說消失了。不管你信不信，我當時對在那件大套房裏只與MJ坐在一起感到厭煩了。於是我感到幽閑恐怖。我當時才17歲，在那個讓人憎厭的歐洲，我的周圍圍繞的是搖滾樂團、性感的舞者，我想像著他們能以各種形式彎曲身體，給能唱八音度的歌手們伴舞。他們喜歡在每個晚上表演完發脾氣，然後在第二天公開的談論他們的英勇成就。不久，我鼓起勇氣問邁克爾，是否他介意我像其他一些人一樣在他演出完之後離開。

他不僅同意了，而且還鼓勵我。當戴上軟呢帽和墨鏡，穿上巡演夾克，在最好的酒店裏訂了最好的位子，然後來到熱店的貴賓區，這樣討好當地的女孩子比想像中要容易的多。通常是我從當地的夜店回來，邁克爾會把我叫到他的房間裏，然後鼓勵我。我在他的套房裏講述著晚上遭遇的不幸給他聽，同時詢問發生在他身邊的那些流言蜚語。我確實沒必要誇張我的行為，但是至少我做了是因為我明白我讓自己做了一次替身，我也是很開心的。

如果說你高中的那個夏天是你生命中最難忘的時刻，那肯定是在陳詞濫調，而我想說，我的並不是那樣的。這些年，我一直戴著那年夏天的徽章，並且我大膽而不謙虛的說，我的許多成績超越了那一刻。當然，隨著時間的流逝，邁克爾捲入了小男孩的醜聞之中，在那個夏天發生的一切就像他的那個十幾歲的死黨一樣，沒有同樣的誘惑力。如今那就是一個恥辱，我珍惜一些東西，但是當然不會標榜。

許多年過去了，我和邁克爾的兄弟友誼也在發生著演變。我去NYC讀大學，住在住宅區，而他一年四季都住在市中心，我很容易就能見到他，與他分享我在大學的成績和奇遇。幾年後，當他成為一名父親，他邀請我去夢幻莊園看望“他最偉大的傑作”——他的兒子王子（Prince）。時間過得很快，我親眼見到當他由魅力十足逐漸的變得忍受著強烈淪落的痛苦時，他的孩子王子，巴黎（Paris）和毯毯（Blanket）讓他重新復活，然後他淪落的極大痛苦變成了一種陰影，連他自己都無法控制。

在他生命的最近幾年裏，我看到了他的創造力再次展現出來。我和他正在一起寫一本名為《命運》的小說。為此，他有一個宏偉的計劃。總有一天他要把它做成電影，讓史蒂文·斯皮爾伯格（Steven Spielberg）擔任顧問，令他喜歡的演員威爾·史密斯（Will Smith）主演。就製作過程而言，這是一個經典的MJ方式，有時激烈，斷斷續續幾個月的時間。這是一個搖滾明星因為他名望的極大痛苦而筋疲力盡的故事，用最不顧一切的方式，力圖發現他的巨星身份是“命中註定的”，不只是名望和財富決定的。當然，我最終意識到了邁克爾正在給我一個通向它自己寓言的視窗，而我也覺得非常幸運能幫忙記錄這一切。不幸的是，我們再也不能一起完成這部小說，剩下我自己來代替完成這部沒有合適結尾的怪異故事（注：我希望在邁克爾遺產委員會的幫助下，交付給一些有能力並且對它感興趣的人手中，我們總有一天會莊嚴的分享《命運》，同時邁克爾可以得到應得的報酬）。

如同《命運》一樣，我們從來對邁克爾的故事沒有找到一個恰當的結尾。相反的是，有一系列混亂的遺留問題，他的名望的奪目光芒閃耀在坍塌的大墓地上，在這裏沒有根據的變態陳詞圍繞在對他自己孩子的那種無限的溫柔之中。對我來說有趣的是去年的狀況，已經過世的邁克爾被許多同樣嘴臉的評論員們宣佈為正式的聖徒，他們在邁克爾生前是如此無情的詆毀他。他已經看到了那些冷嘲熱諷，並且給他們起了綽號——這些人像醉酒的水手一樣會罵人。

一天晚上，和他一起參加巡演，結束之前，我準備回學校了，回到真實的生活中去，邁克爾問我，是否我來這裏很開心，即使我不能整個巡演都呆在這裏。他知道我很難過，不能呆到真正巡演結束。但這仍然是一個瘋狂的問題，我是這樣告訴他的，“你是在開玩笑嗎？”我說。“我能與你在一起的每一秒都是無比榮幸的。謝謝你讓我坐前排，即使只有那麼一小會兒。”

Remembering my friend Michael Jackson (by Gotham Chopra)
June 25, 2010

I was a junior in highschool when my friend Michael Jackson asked me to go on tour with him. He was spending the summer in Europe staging the largest ever (at the time) rock tour for his latest album DANGEROUS. I begged and pleaded with my parents to let me go. We’d known Michael for a few years by then and grown quite close. He’d even come and stayed at our house in suburban Boston for a few days. Who could forget the time he clumsily tried to make his bed in the guestroom in the morning in an effort to impress my mother so he might be invited back? Or the ill-fated breakfast he tried to cook for my sister and I that we forced down our throats with strained smiles as he carefully watched us? Aside from being the biggest celebrity on the planet, he seemed like a pretty good guy so eventually my parents relented and let me go.

To describe it in one word: impossibly awesome (because one word is not nearly enough). To be seventeen and the sidekick of the greatest rockstar the world had ever known was indescribable. Paris, Rome , London , Munich , Athens and more. Every city we went to essentially shut down to host him. Where Michael roamed, a million cameras followed. A buzz reverberated and the bright light of fame trailed. And I felt the halo effect, often donning one of his iconic fedoras, his signature sunglasses, and one of the countless slick tour jackets Pepsi supplied us with. Private planes, police escorts, marching soldiers (an inexplicable MJ favorite), Michael was more than happy to share his celebrity because he had more than he’d ever know what to do with. He joked that I could ride “shotgun” with him anytime I liked. He knew I was living vicariously through him and he was happy for it.
Arriving to stadiums hours before showtime, while he’d have to go through elaborate pre-show routines and wardrobe sessions, I’d wander out onto the stage where dozens upon dozens of sound techs, engineers, and roadies would be rigging the massive stage and prepping the show. Even four or five hours before showtime, thousands of fans would push as far forward as possible so as to get as close to MJ when the show began. You’ve seen the videos of crazy fans, dehydrated and dazed, having to be dragged out of the crowd by hustling paramedics. I saw it up close and personal – even got involved once or twice when fans started dropping by the dozens.

During the show itself, sometimes I’d hang around just off the stage watching Michael kill it. The man knew how to perform and it was like a meditation to just to witness it. At other times, I’d hang in his dressing room, outfitted to the nines with candy, orange juice, and video games.

After the show, Michael would retreat back to the dressing room too and then be forced to stand around awkwardly and greet VIPs, celebrity guests, sponsors and others who’d earned backstage privileges. It was easy to see that he was far more comfortable singing and dancing in front of a 100,000 strong than socializing with a dozen.

After those formalities, he and I would retreat back to his hotel, usually the biggest and best suite in the whole city. Michael almost always had the place stocked with old movies, more candy, and more orange juice. Even as thousands of adoring fans chanted his name from the streets below, we’d chat about music, movies, video games, girls, and occasionally the meaning of life.

But then something unexpected happened. The awesomeness wore off for me. Believe it or not, I started to get bored of sitting up in that suite with just MJ. And then I started to feel claustrophobic. I was seventeen years old, in freaking Europe , surrounded by a rock band, sexy dancers who could bend in all sorts of ways and backup singers who hit octaves I fantasized about. They liked to rage every night after the show and openly talked about their exploits the following day. Soon enough, I gained the courage to ask Michael if he minded if I slipped out with some of the others after his shows.

Not only did he say it was okay, he encouraged me. Outfitted with his fedora, sunglasses, and tour jackets, getting the best table at the best restaurants, into the VIP sections of the hottest clubs, and the adulation of all the local girls was easier than could be imagined. Often when I got back from a night on the town, Michael would call me in my hotel room and summon me. I’d head up to his suite and proceed to narrate my night’s misadventures to him and debrief him on all the latest gossip surrounding his band. I didn’t really need to dramatize my exploits, but I did anyway because I knew that he was living vicariously through me and I was happy for it.

It’s a cliché to say that your highschool summers are the most memorable of your life, but I challenge anyone to say how mine could not be. For years, I wore the badge of that summer and my many exploits over it boldly and boastfully. Then of course, as time passed and Michael became embroiled in scandals involving teen boys, all of a sudden my summer as his teen sidekick didn’t have the same glamour to it. Now it was a stigma, something I treasured but certainly did not tout.

Over the years my brotherhood with Michael evolved. When I went to college in NYC and lived uptown, he lived at the Four Seasons in midtown and I’d see him regularly, sharing with him collegiate exploits and adventures. Years later when he became a father, he invited me over to Neverland to see “the greatest thing he ever created” – his son Prince. More time passed. I watched as he endured the agony of his dramatic fall from grace, his resurrection through his children Prince, Paris, and Blanket, and then once again the agony of his descent into the shadows of things he couldn’t control.

During the last years of his life, I got to see his creativity up close and personal once again. He and I were working on a graphic novel together entitled THE FATED. He had big plans for it. One day he wanted to direct it as a film, impress his mentor Steven Spielberg, and have his favorite actor Will Smith be in it. It was classic MJ in terms of process, intense at times, with intermittent months of total inaction in between. The story of an iconic Rockstar worn out by the agony of his fame, driven to the most desperate measures, only to discover that his super-stardom has him “fated” for far more than just fame and fortune. Of course, I eventually realized Michael was giving me a window into his own personal allegory and I felt privileged to help record it. Sadly, we never were able to complete the story and I was left instead with an eerie tale without a proper ending (note: I hope with the assistance of Michael’s Estate – in the hands of some very capable and conscious stewards – that we’ll one day be able to share The Fated with all the dignity it and Michael deserves).

Like The Fated, we never got to see a proper ending to Michael’s tale. Instead there’s a tangled legacy, the bright light of fame shining over the tumbled necropolis of unfounded allegations twisted around the neverending tenderness for his own children. it’s funny to me how in the last year, in death Michael has been canonized by many of the same commentators who were so relentless in tearing him down while he lived. He’d see the irony in it and call them bad names – the man could curse like a drunken sailor.
One night while on that tour with him, toward the end when I was getting ready to go back to school and the real world, Michael asked me if I was glad that I had come, even though I couldn’t stay for the whole tour. He knew I was sad that I wouldn’t get to stay until the very end. Still, it was an insane question and I told him so. “Are you kidding?” I said. “Every second I was here with you was a privilege. Thank you for letting me ride shotgun even for a little while.”