I'm singing. I sing when I'm waiting for a cab. I sing when I'm walking through the market. I sing till I realise that I am not alone and then look around to check if anyone's staring at me. But it doesn't stop there. I'm singing in my head. All the time. Ever since I can remember. I guess we all are. It wouldn't be A song. It needn't have words. But it's music alright. And my guitar gives me the strength to bring it out. But only when I'm alone for now. I always found the task very intimidating of 'making' one's own music. But then you realise, that you had it in you, all along.

I remember hesitating as I would traverse the strict notes of Hindustani music in front of my Guru in her sweltering second floor music room where I used to ride down every second day on my little red bicycle. As a little girl, I got my aunt's harmonium as a legacy. I would love to figure out the notes of songs I knew on my own. My mom thought it was quite a feat. But I feel that if you can hum it, you can play it. And then, when I grew up she would leave the ball in my court. She wouldn't ask me to write down the alaap and taan but make it own my own. Scared of going off key, I would keep it simple and never take chances.

But I've discovered that taking chances with music is fun. Firstly you are alone. So you can listen to yourself. Then there's the freedom of modern music that doesn't bind you like the raaga does. Of course the raaga keeps you disciplined, but when you have the guitar chords under your finger tips, you feel a little more confident, as if you are 'holding' the music - quite literally.

I hope I can keep this up. If at all I ever have to give up my day job.

Obsession Part II

How I met your mother Season 4, Episode 4. Ted is about to get married to Stella and he’s shuttling all the time between New York and New Jersey to make time with friends, work on one hand and soon-to-be-family on the other. Stella assumes that Ted would move to New Jersey after they are married and this comes as a shock to Ted. He finds life out of New York pretty hard to imagine. Even so, he decides to move and almost packs. But at the last moment all the memories attached to the apartment come rushing to him and he decides to stay put. That’s how strong one can get attached to things.

Someone told me once that it is unhealthy to get attached to things, people so soon. I end up hurting myself in the process. It’s true, I get attached to leave alone, people, but silly objects to extreme proportions. My grandparents had what we would call a ‘varda’. It would lie in the corner of our old kitchen and Amma would store milk, etc in it. It had a neat net on its door, and they used this big nail to lock the door. I don’t remember what colour it used to be before my dad got it painted white when the house was renovated, but it used to be some ruddy old colour. IT had this amazing rustic look to it and I always treated it as a legacy from my grandma’s household days when they used to move every two years with Aaba’s job. I always assumed that the varda would always remain an integral part of our kitchen – and my kitchen later on. But they gave it away to someone and I was quite appalled. The same happened with the small cupboard where Aaba used to keep his Harde and Mulethi for me. He also used to have those Seven Seas tablets in there, which I’ve burst open many times. They gave that cupboard away too. I couldn’t say a thing.

While in engineering, a friend and I were crazy about Perk. He like it because it was endorsed by Preity Zinta, and I, because, it was a thing we could do. So we used to buy one double Perk every night and eat it, one half each. I ended up saving every wrapper, just for the sake of it, like I would save every other thing – bus tickets, movie tickets, train tickets, etc. I kept them till the end of college, of course when it was time to pack and wind up everything at Bangalore, I had to let go of them. But it’s not like they weren’t put to good use. On his birthday, I gave him Preity ZInta posters and inside them, I stuffed as many wrappers as I could manage. It just made for a memorable moment.

My books, my pen, my guitar, that old shirt that’s always been in my wardrobe, a note someone wrote for me, a letter i got like 10 years ago, a card saved from my 13th birthday – everything makes me eccentric and I am not very proud of it.

But this is what makes me ‘me’. Had I not been like this, I probably would never have made such amazing friends, or cherished fond memories of people and things alike. Of course I do end up making a fool of myself, more often than not. But I guess it comes with the package. So be it.