… with your ears closed!!!
Resumes my musical abilities. Sigh!
A lazy, sultry, Wednesday afternoon. Ideal for a bowl of potato chips, TV and a siesta after ‘toiling’ day long at school. My mom, a thoroughbred killjoy that she is, dashed my dreams to the floor. “It’s time for paatu class (music class)”, she dictated.
The next moment, life around me turned monochromatic. Gloom descended. Akin to a pachyderm lumbering along, I inched along to my hall of fame, no… ill-fame rather.
Sa, Re, Ga, Ma… both the shruti box and me droned dully. Like Siamese twins. Aghast, my teacher corrected, “Priya, open your mouth and throw your voice”. And so I did. SAA, REE, GAA, MAA… before I could complete the 7th note, she was out of the room! Pretext: her phone rang. At times, obedience begets only insults!
My mom sitting beside me was stunned. YES, she not only escorts me (lest I escape en route) to class but sings along! She was encouragement personified. I’ve always admired her optimism. Persevering to make an M.S. Subbulakshmi or M.L.V. out of ME!!! Sometimes, I wondered if she needed help with hallucinations!
Anyway, I found a silver lining to the cloud. I hoped that the above debacle will surely put an end to my musical (mis) adventures. I was wrong. My instructor was more persistent than my mom. She reassured my mom, “Oh! She’s young, will pick up soon. Don’t worry”. Incidentally, she’s been repeating this for more than two years!
Dejection written all over her face, my mom remained silent while we walked back home. Equally torturous was the scorching heat.
Suddenly, a ping! An idea! Cautiously I murmered, “Ma, walking to and fro to music class is really tiring. No auto driver will make a trip for such a short distance either. So let’s not…”. Hardly had I finished the sentence she exclaimed, “Oh! Yes! It’s the Sun. The heat. That’s what is affecting your singing”. I was glad the trick was working. But before I could continue, she regretted, “I’m sorry da, I made you walk. No wonder you were not able to give your best”. I stopped right there, eagerly awaiting those nectar-soaked words, “Let’s discontinue music class”. And then she concluded, “We will get someone to teach you at home itself”. I almost fainted!
Home-music sessions were no different. Vapid voicing of Vara Veena, Sree Gananatha (devotional Carnatic music) were heard….err…endured rather. And one day, the unthinkable happened!
My little brother, a music lover (before listening to me sing), came to my room. He sat on my bed. In an attempt to impress him, I sat erect, cleared my throat, began an animated vocalisation. A la Bagavathar (pundit), I made heavy hand gestures, oscillated my head vigorously, slapped my thighs energetically… did almost everything…except sing beautifully. That’s it. My teacher could not take it anymore. She retorted, “Priya, stop your pantomime. And just sing”.
Hisssssssssss! A deflated balloon I was. What more a judgmental sibling could ask for: he sneered.
Nevertheless, I carried on with my singing, almost spiritlessly.
30 minutes later. I had just battled the Geethams (a collection of simple Carnatic songs). All of a sudden, we heard a loud snore. Lo and behold! My brother was snoozing, right next to me!!! He was fast asleep, that too in the middle of my singsong. How dare he??!!
That’s when the moment of epiphany arrived.
I SHOULD STOP SINGING. I had not cradled, but bored him to slumber.
Till this day, I’ve not touched my music books.
Fortunately, the traditional practice of asking a woman to sing during a Prospective Partner Meet-up Ceremony (PPMC), is not very prevalent anymore. Otherwise, I would still be a spinster.
As they say, if a door is shut, a window opens. I can’t sing for nuts. Agreed. So, what next?!
It’s ………. MUSICAL KEYBOARD!
Yes, I embarked on a journey to explore the other facets of this enigma called music. Success was no longer elusive.
On that note I would like to wrap up because…
… (off the record), A.R.R. is frantically calling me up to take counsel for his next Oscar trophy.
Bye. Take care.
