Young Writers Society

If you have revolutionary potential,

Then it’s your moral imperative to make the world a better place.

It was in 2009 that I saw the latex-clad beast called Lady GaGa for the first time.Those were the days when India was relatively ignored by Hollywood and the hype was always late to reach the Indian shores.

By that time Pokerface, Paparazzi and all other videos from ‘The Fame’ had already been released and the label of attention-whore had been slapped on her forehead.

But from the very beginning, when I had seen her emerge from the pool wearing a disco-mask and catsuit, I knew that she was the person who’ll show me the way. It was as if my hymen-like sense of reality was torn apart by her pure avant-garde force. In a metaphorical way, my virginity was taken by her dick.

And thus began my obsession with my idol, Lady GaGa.

People have often asked me why a pop-star chameleon means so much to me that I take every insult hurled at her as a personal attack and I laugh and cry along with her.

To tell the truth, I don’t know.

Perhaps, it’s the sense of liberation that I feel when I watch her singing with her teats on fire. Or is it the power of accepting myself when I see her bathed in the spotlight, talking about being dumped in the garbage.

Maybe, it’s the sense of unity that I feel when I see her talking about femaleempowerment, gay rights, being who you want to be and art — everything in which I believe in.

Or it could also be that watching the first pop star of our generation to wear a meat dress when she accepts her VMA simply gives mevoyeuristicpleasure. Her homo-erotic, pop opera — The Monster Ball — was indeed an emotionally charged glamour show.

But who cares what the reason is?

The inspiration that I derive from GaGa will remain ignorant to logic and reason.

After all, fantasy is what we have created together — GaGa and us little monsters.

And as she says, our bond is an exorcism — She is me and I am her.

Singing and dancing, with our glitter and hairbows on, we have effectively slayed reality.

But some say that all of it is a lie. Lady GaGa is just a synthetic pop-star, hungry for fame and money and her image is just an illusion.

But, at this point it doesn’t really matter. The image is what we have ever known.

The lie is the truth.

And the dream which we have created together is now immortal forever.