I had been in Music class before, but then that was a time when the happiness of making it to the front row as one of the main singers for Vande Mataram was what got you high. It was a little different now. Instead of a newly wed miss clad in a heavy saree and adorned with as many bangles as could find space on her arm, sitting behind a harmonium, entranced, there was a balding bespectacled man, smiling through the round lenses, tapping his feet as he animatedly played "Let it Be" on his piano, nodding in affirmation to the guitarist seated right next to him with a half Elvis look, a busy moustache and nails large enough to substitute for a pick. First day at school, and Music class; as if joining a new school mid-session hadn't given me enough jitters, the proposition of having to croak and be ridiculed wasn't particularly a happy thought. The first class I just lingered at the back, observing the brat pack, customs I was unaware of as a young Indian boy who left partitioned his hair and felt rolling up his sleeves would be disrespectful. It wasn't long before the little brown boy in a sea of white was singled out as being too quiet, in Music class, blasphemy!
He asked me what I was good at, playing or singing? Playing, I wondered. Would jamming to "Papa kehte hain bada naam karega" on a toy guitar I had since childhood count? Or how does my brother and I going *ting ting* on the miniature piano sound? Thought as much, both didn't qualify. Singing it had to be and I was asked to pick a song. A song? What does he mean? I came back home, dropped my bag at the door and fell flat on the bed, still wondering, what exactly does a song sound like? Do they expect me to pull off a Bollywood number, 'coz they wouldn't get jack shit! I was the kid who fast forwarded the video tape in the VCR whenever the hero and his love interest donned ridiculous clothes and danced around trees till normal conversation resumed and the plot thickened. I was aware of the existence of music, of singers and songs from the West, which quite unlike the usual Rangoli songs, presented themselves as items of great mystery to me. But that still didn't answer the question, what song do I pick?
I sifted through the handful of audio cassettes I could get hold of in the boxes that had been opened up by Mom already and put them into the cassette player to get a feel for what songs were. The cover read Kishore Kumar Hits. "Who the hell is that?", I asked Mom. "Chalti ka naam gaadi beta" came the reply. Oh. After almost half an hour of browsing the collection I realised there was nothing in it I could actually pull off and not come across as a loser. School is tough, first impressions are impossible to erase from memories. I had to salvage some pride, especially after having stood up in class for every reply to the teacher's question, something I learnt almost a month into the curriculum was not the "norm" around here. After much deliberation, sleepless nights, 'twas the night before the actual "performance" was due that brilliance struck me.
What is better than "the one thing" you have been asked to do?
Three things your teacher would not be expecting from you!
I called out for Mom asking her which box had all the farewell gifts my friends had given me before I left. Excitement levels were off the charts, I could not contain my emotions, that evil smirk was so evident on my face it actually gave my mother a fright. A mantelpiece from Archies with a 4 liner, which was easily turned into a limerick, became the first article of brilliance. The next one was a meaningful translation of a Hindi song, one which I fail to remember right now. This is what took me the longest, probably around an hour to make some sense of the lyrics. Two down, one to go. By the time I was done with the translation, I was so euphoric that it made no sense to wait and work on the third but that internal figure of three I set for myself had to be met, and what I did as a consequence is something am not particularly proud of. I plagiarised from a Hallmark wall hanging. I am ashamed of it till date, that's probably why I still remember it till today:
Friendship is like a flower
A joy from day to day
But you should take good care of it
Lest it should fade away
Tended by your nature and protected by your care
It will soon grow into A Blossom Rare
A complete rip off.
I received accolades for the effort. I still ended up being popular in school for all the wrong reasons. But that day opened the doors for me to the world of music. It was my brother who went to Media Markt and got a Sony Discman with the first ever English CD I lay my hands on - Oasis, Standing on the Shoulder of Giants, probably realising that the time had come for me to lose my music virginity. Why then did I recount this utterly useless story? Honestly, it was to form the prelude for a post I had in mind, but as usual I got carried away on a tangent. So here's to you bro, for introducing me to the world of music. Cheers!!
The year was 1997.
He asked me what I was good at, playing or singing? Playing, I wondered. Would jamming to "Papa kehte hain bada naam karega" on a toy guitar I had since childhood count? Or how does my brother and I going *ting ting* on the miniature piano sound? Thought as much, both didn't qualify. Singing it had to be and I was asked to pick a song. A song? What does he mean? I came back home, dropped my bag at the door and fell flat on the bed, still wondering, what exactly does a song sound like? Do they expect me to pull off a Bollywood number, 'coz they wouldn't get jack shit! I was the kid who fast forwarded the video tape in the VCR whenever the hero and his love interest donned ridiculous clothes and danced around trees till normal conversation resumed and the plot thickened. I was aware of the existence of music, of singers and songs from the West, which quite unlike the usual Rangoli songs, presented themselves as items of great mystery to me. But that still didn't answer the question, what song do I pick?
I sifted through the handful of audio cassettes I could get hold of in the boxes that had been opened up by Mom already and put them into the cassette player to get a feel for what songs were. The cover read Kishore Kumar Hits. "Who the hell is that?", I asked Mom. "Chalti ka naam gaadi beta" came the reply. Oh. After almost half an hour of browsing the collection I realised there was nothing in it I could actually pull off and not come across as a loser. School is tough, first impressions are impossible to erase from memories. I had to salvage some pride, especially after having stood up in class for every reply to the teacher's question, something I learnt almost a month into the curriculum was not the "norm" around here. After much deliberation, sleepless nights, 'twas the night before the actual "performance" was due that brilliance struck me.
What is better than "the one thing" you have been asked to do?
Three things your teacher would not be expecting from you!
I called out for Mom asking her which box had all the farewell gifts my friends had given me before I left. Excitement levels were off the charts, I could not contain my emotions, that evil smirk was so evident on my face it actually gave my mother a fright. A mantelpiece from Archies with a 4 liner, which was easily turned into a limerick, became the first article of brilliance. The next one was a meaningful translation of a Hindi song, one which I fail to remember right now. This is what took me the longest, probably around an hour to make some sense of the lyrics. Two down, one to go. By the time I was done with the translation, I was so euphoric that it made no sense to wait and work on the third but that internal figure of three I set for myself had to be met, and what I did as a consequence is something am not particularly proud of. I plagiarised from a Hallmark wall hanging. I am ashamed of it till date, that's probably why I still remember it till today:
Friendship is like a flower
A joy from day to day
But you should take good care of it
Lest it should fade away
Tended by your nature and protected by your care
It will soon grow into A Blossom Rare
A complete rip off.
I received accolades for the effort. I still ended up being popular in school for all the wrong reasons. But that day opened the doors for me to the world of music. It was my brother who went to Media Markt and got a Sony Discman with the first ever English CD I lay my hands on - Oasis, Standing on the Shoulder of Giants, probably realising that the time had come for me to lose my music virginity. Why then did I recount this utterly useless story? Honestly, it was to form the prelude for a post I had in mind, but as usual I got carried away on a tangent. So here's to you bro, for introducing me to the world of music. Cheers!!
The year was 1997.
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