Musical Childhood

I have been trying to read for a while now. But haven’t been able to will myself into it especially with soothing music playing in my ears. It plays every string of my body. What’s so special about music that makes me abandon the entire world even if it is for a few minutes. I remember how hard I had tried to get rid of this habit of listening to music during work hours. It’s addictive and it rules no matter how hard you try. It’s good to be passionate about things but what pleasure do I derive from listening to someone else singing sweet words into my ears. I did see that the words didn’t matter to me as much as the melody did.

Since childhood music has had a huge influence on me. May be its atmosphere in which I was brought up. I do remember my dad’s colleagues pouring in our house and asking me and my sister to sing “Mile Sur Mera Tumhara”. The request would be duly entertained with us sisters singing out loud and displaying our prowess on the subject, whether we understood all the languages endorsed in this small song which had become a national rage during the late 80s. We sure were the pride & joy of our parents.

Colony functions wouldn’t be complete without me and my sister singing. We were very fondly called the “Ayyangar Bagini” (The Ayyangar Sisters).

Coming from a typical south Indian background dance or music classes is a ritual which one cannot skip. A very elderly gentleman would come twice a week at our place to teach us sisters Carnatic music. Being a kid I was more interested in playing outside with Mud like other normal kids rather than learn from this teacher. I remember my mom serving him Dosas while he asked us to practice what he taught. I knew then and there what I wanted. Of course the dosa with the imli chutney. I refused to learn from him anymore.

Mom persisted. After a few years she got us sisters enrolled again to learn carnatic music. Only this time we had to go to our teachers place. Our madam was a renowned singer in her circle. Our classes were held on Saturday afternoons and Sunday mornings. Saturday afternoons at 3 PM and Sunday mornings at 7 AM which were the best times to sleep. I dreaded it. We sisters would cycle for 4 kms to reach this place. The classes were held for about an hour.
I do not know for how long I went on to learn from her (3 yrs) but whatever I learnt I can still sing that today. With the onset of my sister’s board examination she was allowed to discontinue the classes, whilst I was asked to continue. I didn’t find the classes particularly appealing. So I came up with my excuse of being in 8th class and with additional subjects like PCB (Physics, chemistry, biology) I needed extra time & energy to study. A very plausible excuse to come clean out of this. I succeeded.

An opportunity to learn was never denied in the family. I had once asked my dad for the songs of “Mr. India”. I remember the ride we took on our “Hamara Bajaj” scooter and how proud I felt holding that small piece of tape. “Na Mange sona chandi” was our all time favorite and it was a huge blockbuster hit with the entire family. It was always performed on family occasions with much gusto. Not only “Mogambo Khush Hua” so did the entire family. Let me share this too. On our recent trip to Agra, I and my sister sang this song again at the risk of our driver ramming our vehicle into another. My mom asks for its recorded version.

As a kid I would eagerly wait for my dad to bring cassettes from his tours of Mumbai. A Mumbai trip for dad would mean a huge treat for us. Our dad exposed us sisters to most of the western music. Irrespective of what genre of cassettes he would bring from Mumbai it would be rehearsed, repeated and performed for the family within a week by us sisters. If I had a fight with dad he always knew how to make up. He would play my favorite music on the deck and I would automatically sway in that direction with all my anger melting away.

As an 8th grader I remember singing out loud to the tunes of Celine Dion, Shania Twain, Air Supply, Madonna, George Michael to the point of annoyance. I would eagerly wait for my dad to finish his meditation. Once that was done around 9 in the morning I would turn on the radio which would play all the recent Hindi movie tracks. Unlike today, with so much proliferation of the media our times used to have very few sources of music. Even MTV wasn’t much happening at that time. I did help my parents in increasing their tolerance level every day by making them an audience to my constant humming and chanting of lyrics of all Hindi songs. Thanks to Astrick (our pet) who never howled along with me. Else both of us would have been surely grounded for a week. I used to be a perfectionist when it came to rote lyrics. I could have put any street singer to shame.

Life moved on. During my engineering days music would be my constant companion when I would solve math problems or work on my drawing sheets. But something was missing. Work life began. Life was pretty good but I still felt something was missing. One fine day while walking on the streets I came across the sound of a “Tanpura” which sedued me towards the “Gandharva Sangeet Mahavidyalaya” and I didn’t miss anything anymore. I learnt Hindustani classical music and went on the give my praveshika exam.

Giving an exam or adding certificates in my kit was not the purpose. I enjoyed stepping into a state where I didn’t have to deal with the day to day pressures of life. I loved when I just had to sing to be transported to a world which was mesmerizing, where there were no boundaries, no fences, no restrictions and no fears. It was a world that denied access to none.

When I look back little did I realize what my mom did to me. She pushed us into something which she knew would ultimately become a huge recourse for us. As I write this article I find all my answers to the question as to why I find music simply irresistible. Its coz I find peace, solace, comfort and an everlasting companion who was, is and will remain with me during all phases of my life and yes, even till my last breath.