Feeling the Beat

Exams seem to bring out the blogger in me. It seems the only means to dispel stress when my head is buzzing with an overdose of Quantum Mechanics. Somehow, today I find myself trying to remember when exactly was the first time I heard music, in the conventional sense, of course. Sonia reminds me that waves, rain drops, the flapping of bird wings etc etc too can be called music. But the Zog is at present solely interested in the organized cacophony that we homo sapiens insist on labelling with that term. The more I think of it, the more I am certain that my first musical experience was the song "Aayirum Kannumayi," sung to us by our mother as a single stop solution for everything starting from scratches, cuts, bruises, black eyes, ant bites, wasp bites, hard words, hard stares, hard whacks on our behinds. That was the one song she could sing without being off-key, even once. Besides, my Dad played it endlessly on our Fischer Price stereo. I must admit, other than the above, my first auditory stimulations were restricted to exclusively the ONV Kurupu lyricized or the ABBA, Michael Jackson vocalized variety. Of course, there was the occasional "Daisyeeeeeee! Daisyeeee!" Since I couldn't understand any of the rest, I was very taken up by this song. To this day, daisies are my favourite flower. Later, I learnt from a string of conservative aunts, sisters and grannys that the song was in some ununderstandable way profane. Even later, I learnt it was not the song, but the film the song was an integral part of, that was the issue. Hmmm. As I continued in this hopeless ingnorance, where even my dreams played out to the tune of "Dancing Queen","Dangerous" or "Arikil nee", my parents suddenly turned my world upside down, enrolling me at an American School. Here I was, two decades behind people my age. Disney music was the in thing, at the time. I found myself mouthing "When You wish upon a star", "Cruella D' Ville" and "Under the Sea" with a zillion other toddlers, one school spring concert after another, carefully making sure that not a sound escaped me. I didn't exactly have a melodious voice. I was terribly relieved when the whole Britney Spears, Backstreet Boys phase happened. No more concerts. You just had to listen. This was about the time my father gave away our Fischer Price music box to a newly arrived cousin of his. I felt an unexplainable animosity towards the poor soul from the minute he handled that sacred instrument. However, audio tapes had gone out of fashion and my Dad, forever the electronics geek, believed it was high time we had a CD player. Our sleek, black Kenwood, four speaker entertainment centre was exciting. But that ended listening to music for my poor mother, who was intimidated by all the complicated (she said) gadgetry. My Dad hated the boy band, "Hit me Baby" variety of music and he stopped too. Thus was initiated the Asianet News and Asianet serials era of my parents lives. I have a feeling though that the Tatu and Alanis Morisette CD covers made Daddy rethink his feelings for Boyzone.:) I have no qualms in admitting that college was by far the best era of my musical journey. It was no longer boring to like retro music and let your hair down to the tune of the Beatles. Pink Floyd was synonymous to cool and ABBA and the Carpenters were free flowing, integral parts of the lingo. Once again, it was safe to be me. Not for long. It seems the "me"ness in me also included a love for classical music. And classical music was a surefire means to get you trampled as social dirt. I listened to Tchaikovsky clandestinely when my room mate was away or when she was fast asleep. I re-edited my playlists when she was back. Phew! It was almost like being in the closet. I wish I was like the dude in the "Clockwork Orange." He liked Beethoven and it actually made him cool. But me, no way! Maybe I had to wear the weird white outfit and mask too. Right now, my playlist is a liberal mix of every genre known from here to Tahiti. I never discriminate. The ud is as beloved as the veena or the violin. The beat of the samba as appealing as the slow playing of the saxophone. My memories of music seem to be associated more with my growth and mood swings than anything else. Whether it was lying on the hostel lawn, looking at the moon, drinking coffee and listening to Pink Floyd, air banding with a passion on "I want to hold your hand" or playing "I'm a bitch" and "Girls just wanna have fun" when I am up to some mischief or the other or feel very aware of my feminity. Also it is strange how every person who comes or leaves my life has a song attached. Tanima-Cindy Lauper-"Girls just wanna have fun", Hathi-Pink Floyd-"Of your possible pasts", Jianni-Black eyed peas-"My humps", still remember the way she sang it on hostel night, Udita-Beatles-"I wanna hold your hand",my sister-Pearl Jam-"Ain't no mountain high", Ma-"Aayirum kannumayi", Daddy-Boney M-"Daddy Cool"(You should totally hear my Dad sing that song).....the list goes on. Funny thing is, in my dreams too, these songs are like theme songs, denoting their entrance and exit. Funny, the associations that our minds make. And yes, I do admit, like Sonia says, that sometimes, the only music you feel like hearing is the waves when you hold a conch shell to your ear, Whooo!, the wind rustle through leaves, Whishoo!, rain beating against a tin roof, Tdindintin!, the crackling of a warm fire, Kcklkl!, or the chirping of birds, Chipchr!, when you actually manage to wake up in the morning. Other music also counts. My favourite as I have mentioned before, is the sound of my dads key turning in the lock of our gate when he gets back from work, Kchick!, the sound of your mom taking a shower, all the time imagining how lovely she looks and smells when she steps out, RShhhhshr!, the sound of your sisters text book clamping shut after home work, Thdddt!, time to play, time to play! So many sounds, all so divine, Pity that none of it, is solely mine!