Justin Bieber is coming to India - but you have no reason to hate

The secret society of really rich people with terrible taste in music has pulled off another coup.

After bringing down arguably the worst band in the world (Coldplay) to India last year, this time we get the honour of watching the great Justin Bieber, globally renowned superstar and the King of Pop, who pops his India cherry this May with a gig in Navi Mumbai.

It's unreal, to the point where I think even the venue is fictitious.

As with Atlantis or that hush-hush island John Galt shipped off all his extra-righteous Objectivists to, I've heard rumours of Navi Mumbai's existence, but I don't know anyone who's ever been there.

Stretching the limits of reality further is the price of the tickets: the absolute VVVIP-Paan-Spitting-Moustachioed-Babu-in-Red-Beacon-Ambassador ticket is an insane Rs 76,790 (maybe they fixed on Rs 77,000, but then decided to use that old trader's trick of adding the illusion of value for money). 

This sucks for me because there are thousands of bands out there that I want to watch live, but instead what I get is Chris Tricolour-Wearer Martin and his band of misfits, the Rock On 2 "star" cast, and, now, King of Pop Justin Bieber.

Ideally, my blood should be boiling, given that Bieber's music is so cringe-worthy as to offend me personally because of how manipulative and phony it actually is.

Further, being a (sort of) educated, English-speaking, Hindu-born, Savarna male from a tier-one city in India, my level of entitlement is literally as high as it can get.

And yet (yes, you may have guessed there was a "but..." coming), I find myself on the side of the Beliebers in this case. I wouldn't call myself one — mostly because I haven't paid any attention to the King's music, and don't intend to either — but, perhaps, I'm an ally.

This comes from a natural tendency to always side with the underdog and, yes, we now live in a world where thousands of Bieber fans with cherry cola breath shoving their Bieber Feber in my face are the underdogs.

But that's because up against that despicable lot is the formidable Goliath-like presence of the "serious music listeners". Aka the musical snobs. Aka the a*sholes.

Make no mistake; I'm very much part of this community of people, the same ones who walk around like royalty, smug in the knowledge that our music taste is far superior than that of the common folk who reside two-to-six stories below us.

We look down upon these people who get excited about rubbish music because we know better. We have an internet connection and we're not afraid to use it, you see. 

Bieber, though, falls in that unfortunate space where even the non-snobs mock him and criticise what he does. I get it — some artists evoke that kind of a reaction in people.

Think of Honey Singh, and how much he rubs people the wrong way. To an extent, I have no problem with it — I love to hate bands that piss me off, and if Bieber does that to people, then fair enough.

But there's a slight distinction to be made here. "Justin Bieber" is not a real person. He is a thought experiment come to life; a lab test gone horribly awry. A commodity. A marketing phenomenon; a commerce creation. He used to be a naïve kid who loved music deeply, and wanted to "make it".

Then, upon discovery, he was reprogrammed, rebooted, repurposed to be a manufactured pop icon who could appeal to a generation of teenagers still trying to find themselves, still trying to understand what music means.

And that's why I sympathise with him, intellectually at least, if not aesthetically. The guy's debut EP went platinum when he was all of 15 years old. Remember when you, Bieber-hater, were 15?

My guess is you were up to some pornography-related hijinks, scared to death of your parents finding out. In Bieber's case, multiply that terror by a million.

Every move of his, from allegedly peeing his pants, to a puppy-love relationship, to backstage brawls or experimenting with pot, has been scrutinised painstakingly by journalists and fans who should really know better. Fifteen is no age for global superstardom; and he's still only 22.

The pressures of the pop culture industry are immense — the countless breakdowns and suicides are testament to that — and I feel like that's never taken into account when it comes to Bieber.

Remember how badly poor Miley Cyrus was slut-shamed for trying to break out of her miss-goody-two-shoes public image.

Bieber, too, gets both ends of the barrel. And he seems to reside between these two worlds — of being worshipped by his (no doubt very naïve) super-fans, and being ripped to shreds by just about everyone else. 

Doubting his intentions is worth a shot — the temptations and thrills (and money!) that accompany being a celebrity play a role in his continued presence in the limelight, I'm sure. But, maybe, so does the music?

By all accounts, Bieber isn't completely full of s*it as a musician — he can play a bunch of instruments and, if you look past the glamour, he seems to have that abstract quality of "passion" for his craft.

Even with the tickets, one fact that seems to have bypassed most people cracking wise one-liners about the pricing is that the cheapest one was somewhere around Rs 4,000. The Rs 77,000 ticket (with a Rs 210 discount) is a special package deal with a backstage tour and a bunch of other frills.

Indeed, I'm tempted to wonder — cynically — who these people are who're buying up all these tickets (especially now, in the Age of Demonetisation), but that doesn't serve our purpose here.

In effect, the hatred-with-a-capital-H that Bieber gets seems to be borderline bullying and cruel. At best, it's just misdirected. We are all united in our contempt for the cynicism and opportunism on which the music industry is built. It's the machinations that are a problem.

But it seems unfair to pick on someone who's merely a by-product — willing or otherwise — of a system that builds up these mammoth cotton-candy structures (aka Bieber and friends), only to knock them down with glee later.

Ignore him or dismiss him if you must (like I do). But don't hate the player.

Also read: Coldplay in Mumbai and a sky full of dust