Ordinary Voice

One category of people that infuriate me, beyond words can adequately express, are the Singers: those blessed with a good voice. Ask them to sing a line or two for you & they will come up with a 100 excuses why they CAN’T do it. Which song? Where’s the music? Do you have songs of so & so? Oh Hindi songs – naah, do you have something in English? I forgot the lines! I’ve sore throat! No, not here! Or they just plain beseech you, “Please some other day”. 

Then these very same people don’t hesitate to criticize others. They correct the unfortunate ones like me, born without a velvet voice or worse, a hoarse voice, at the very first opportunity they get. So far, I have let it slide. But I am sure the next time around I am going to give these maestros of music a piece of my mind. Boss, seriously, music is meant for the soul. If you are so particular about the technical aspects, why don't you sing it yourself, right here, right now? Better still, be a participant in one of those countless talent shows. No, you wouldn't do that because you really aren't that great or deep. True knowledge makes a person humble and tolerant. The ones that criticize ordinary or regular people are the ones who are what is called empty vessels. 

Dancers need music, physical space to dance, to perform. painters need canvas, brush to paint. What do singers need? Just a mouth. Open it and sing, for God's sake. Especially when you have all these people all around you, clapping and thumping and goading you to sing. Go for it. 
 
This memsahib I mentioned in “Love to hate you” is a trained singer; her forte – devotional songs. No, I’ve never had the great fortune of listening to her renditions. She has never sung in front of me. I came to know she sings “wonderfully” from her husband who proudly proclaimed one day that during a family gathering she enthralled everyone. And as some devotional singers go, they tend to be a vain lot. In Kannada, we say, “yane devara thundaa?” Translated it means, “Do you think you are God’s single piece creation?”

I’ve an ordinary voice. Okay that was a hyperbole. The truth is I’ve a HORRIBLE voice. I’ve actually heard my own voice played back to me & asked, “Shit! Whose atrocious voice is this?” Yup, it’s that bad! But in my defense, I always say I respond to music, any music, as one ideally should – to its ‘bhaav’ or emotion & merrily sing along or shed a silent tear, as the case may be. Whether it’s the stereo in the car or the music system in the house or the FM on a mobile handset, I sway to the beats of a song I love. And yes, open my croaky throat & sing along quite loudly, oblivious to the surroundings or rather in spite of it. It’s all in the moment. I’m so completely caught up in the melody, the mood the song has evoked that it doesn’t matter who I’m with or where. The song & what it means is all that matters. Connoisseur of art: the one truly capable of surrendering to the pulsating effect music has on my heart, enjoying it unabashedly.

I know my looks can't crack a mirror. My voice certainly can! I won't let my lack of knowledge of music limit my enjoyment of it. I am unaware of the genres/ragas/taalas/musical notes & other technicalities of a song. But I have shed copious tears after listening to some songs at certain occasions in some places simply because it has touched my very soul. There have been times when I’ve been driving to some place & while listening to certain music have caught myself with tears streaming down my eyes. Just like that! I’ve smiled to some & danced to some. I’ve relived experiences of pain, separation, loneliness, loss, love, joy, fulfillment, & longing. Some songs take you with them & I believe you must let them. Music is felt & experienced & understood by those that have lived their lives, those that have won some, lost some.

So when my singer friends ridicule me or stop me saying, “Hey, that was a wrong note. It should be in high pitch in the second line” or “No, that line is not like that. You missed the third word in the fifth line” – it saddens me first, because they broke my spell & angers me next because they know not music is divine & divinity is not to be constrained.

A Wedding & A Bachelor

He has many avatars - 'chota chatri' on Twitter, 'the game returns' on Email, & 'maniac hunter' on Blog. The man in question, Madhav Mishra, is someone I’ve been reading since the past 4 months. His blog is aptly named ‘Simple Stories’ - the stories & the narrative style both are so simple, & yet endearing, that you can’t help but come away with a smile, when you close the browser window to his blog.

It’s been exactly a month, yes complete THIRTY days, since he sent this post that he wrote for me. He was the FIRST one to respond to my request for a GP. I’m guilty of sitting on his post for so long that, now, without any further delay, putting you on to him in

A Wedding & A Bachelor:

I recently attended a marriage in my community after 6-7 years & that too in Delhi. Since I’ve moved to Delhi from Bangalore, a lot of things have changed. For example, every 3^rd day, a new relative pops up, in some area somewhere in Delhi. So this mama of my dad came from thin air & turns out he has a son who is getting married which I had to attend. There was only 1 catch: contrary to their claim, I had not seen ANYONE from that part of my family. So I ‘SUITed UP’ & it took a good 1 & half hours along with a LOT of weird stares in metro to reach my destination.

The thing about attending marriage in my community is you will meet a lot of people who are related to you. So I did a lot of bending (read touching feet) before I found a place to sit between gents where I was grilled with questions like ‘what I do, where do I live, whether my cook is male or female & WHY AM I NOT MARRIED’ for some time. Before I knew it, the news spread like fire that I am NOT married. And I found out that my relatives work in ‘oh my god’ to ‘holy crap’ to ‘you ve got to be kidding me’ firms.

And when I was taken to the female den to meet them, they were already prepared with their set of questions. I couldn’t wait for the baraat to leave & reach the banquet hall. Finally, amidst a LOT of dhol sounds & really annoying music (it will be pure cruel to call it music, it is annoying to say the least). I didn’t know I hated so many songs. The band was voted useless because they asked for tea & could not play ‘chammak challo’.

Since a lot of my folks had come from native place (a place in Bihar which according to mythology, was ruled by King Janak), they were confused as to what a banquet actually is & why the bride’s side hasn’t set up a pandaal instead. The thing that makes my folks different from any person in the rest of India is, we like to eat & feed. Not your average eat but I-can’t-walk-after-eating eat. There is a saying in my region ‘if you don’t have a pot belly, your family doesn’t love you’

So the two major questions were ‘are we supposed to stand & eat?’ ‘Why are they giving packaged glasses?’ Since a lot of people could not find place to wash hands, the dustbins were overflowing in no time along with the ‘small’ plates. And the good thing about attending a wedding where not many people know you is, you can eat LIKE-A-PIG & still get away *BURRRP*

So, when the time for the dinner came, the bride’s father had to arrange for proper tables chairs for everybody to sit & eat because buffet system is for beggars & it’s insulting to ask for food. Ideally, the host should serve & force people to eat it (those of you frowning wait till you meet any of my folks at a party cribbing about the arrangements. Do yourself a favor & DON’T try to reason with them)

The wedding proceedings start after the dinner & go up till wee hours in the morning so the people eat, take a nap & still come for blessing the couple in the morning. God bless the guy who kept pestering the catering people to open up the coffee stall because it helped me watch the marriage ceremony till the morning. I still can’t understand how bride/groom sit with a straight face while speaking those stupid vows (I will share my body, WEALTH & soul with you.)