It was many moons ago..... when I thought, I could sing.
Now I think I can only enjoy music, and that singing is gone and forgotten.
If anybody asked me these days, "Do you sing?" , I'd tell them......... "I used to."
There was a time when everyone would , not even ask but just state, that “I will need someone musically inclined ( read singer, musician)to live with”
Fortunately or unfortunately nobody bothers now ….. all what bothers them now, is that Im aging and not getting married.
I had always thought of music as my religion, my spiritual journey, where I could unfold myself , seek answers to my questions. The journey which would fulfill my passion and purpose of living.
And my faith in that journey lied in those very few moments, when my dad would smile blissfully everytime I sang to him, when my mom would play the recordings of my radio shows in the kitchen all day long, when my teacher's eyes welled up as I sang my favourite Ashtapadi to her.
And gradually crept in those moments too when I lost faith in that very journey.
The same path which estranged me instead of liberating.
Those moments of arrant incertitude and shock as I witnessed the very people I worshipped fall into the mad and filthy race of the 'so-called divine art called music. '
I was torn. And thats one wound which has left a very bad scar.
I would cry when my voice cracked up, everytime a note came out wrong. Or when I couldnt recall what raaga a particular kriti was composed in.
I had become an alien at my own forte.
I couldnt breathe in my own world?.
I didnt know where I belonged to anymore.
There have been days when I'd decided to go back and search for my lost self , and one such morning I found that I have lost my book of kritis. My heart sank. And in that assailable moment it could only indicate that 'Music was dead and buried..... once and for all.... for good.'
I knew it was going to be that rotten noxious feeling which I would have to carry all my life.
I tried to live with that harsh truth that I wouldnt be able to sing like before ever again.
But now there is a reason why I am even able to write about this.
Because I sang yesterday.............
It still felt terrible. Dreadful.
I poured down mugs and mugs of water on my face to escape from tasting the bitter saltiness of my tears.
After an hour as I came out of the loo, I saw my land lady standing outside. She said, she had been standing there for quite sometime, and asked me If I were trained in music.
I looked at her rather sadly as I hung my towel on the cloth-line, gasped and said “for fourteen frickin' years!!!”
I came inside still wet and shivering, and sat down on my bed to watch my thoughts. And it suddenly struck me that I just sang past that huge block.
It took me a while to believe it was real.And I was pretty convinced then, that I would be able to do it again. I somehow felt like a floating swan, feeling light.
My thoughts flew to that dear friend who told me the other day “Birds cant fly; if you cant sing”.
And all I could do was …...........Smile! :)
P.S : Thankyou. And I cant wait to delete that one sad line in my bio.Its my fervid conviction.