There's very little that music can't set right for me ...
A rather late realization for someone who has grown up on a constant stream of music.
Some of it by design, given my parents' high inclination for music - Mummy with her choices of western classical notes and Papa with his constant singing and Indian classical bent. And some of it when I discovered that I really enjoy music - right from the Michael Jackson tracks to our very own desi Indo-pop numbers with their riveting videos featuring the most drop-dead good looking of Indian male models of that time (I'm speaking of the mid-nineties). Milind Soman in Alisha Chinai's Made in India, Marc Robinson in her Lover Girl, Shahid Kapoor in Aankhon Mein Tera Chehra and Jas Arora in Gud Naal Ishq Mitha. However silly these videos look now, those were the days of huge crushes on these men and evenings spent imagining the same situation closer home. :P
Then Anantapur happened. A phase of music of a different genre but as deeply engrossing and moving as the indo-pop romantic numbers I wouldn't miss on Sunday mornings. No more videos though, there was almost no access and no time for any TV viewing. And who says we didn't have our fun - there were lots of programs to conceptualize which involved picking tracks and stringing them together to come together in a soulful presentation with dances, drama and musical pieces. And of course the class parties and room parties where the girls would let loose.
IIMB was where perhaps I picked up my current habit of listening to lots of music across genres along with a deep-rooted love for dancing. There was music for mornings, and music for evenings. There were songs for when I was feeling a certain way, and songs that put my mind into different orbits. There was music for me-times and music for group masti. There were favourites to be listened to with besties. There was music for impromptu girls dance parties. (We were all of 24 girls to a batch of 206 and many of us loved dancing. So much so that on some occasions we would just get into one room and let loose. Gosh, I miss those days. Sigh.)
There was music for dancing and exercising and music for romantic day-dreaming. There were songs for different weather patterns, songs for different times of the day. Like this one, which I still associate with cloudy, cool evenings (it used to blare out of different rooms on different days, so popular was it with the A-top (our wing in the hostel) girls. There was music for rainy nights spent doing timepass. There was devotional music for early mornings when I would wake up in time to have a leisurely shower and a mindful breakfast all by myself, under the sky.
There was also hindustani classical with friends who taught me the subtle nuances of different ragas played on different instruments. (In fact it was my first proper exposure to classical music and some of my friends were so deeply into it, something I found rather unusual and therefore, fascinating, for young adults. For some reason I had always associated classical music with older people, unless they were singers trained in classical.)
But yes, the IIMB years sort of brought out the latent love for music of different sorts. And it's power to heal and set things right. It was a much-loved companion wherever I was, something I always had easy access to, something that I turned to at all sorts of moments.
I carried this love to work at Unilever, where we would do all sorts of fun things like play your song sessions after 6 PM in the evening, when different people in the team would take turns to play their favourite songs full-volume. The people on our floor would look on amused as half the team would be blaring hindi music loudly from their laptops while we worked hard. I'm sure they loved the energy and vibrance the totally Bollywood music brought to an otherwise quiet workplace.
Many years later, running my own startup and working out of a shared-working space, the option of listening to music loudly with co-workers pitching in, doesn't exist, sadly. However, music continues to revive and rejuvenate me. Through early morning vedam or bhajan pieces that bring positive energies into my day. Through dance classes in the evenings, where I move to the latest Bollywood numbers. Or through dance sessions with Aahaan when we both sway to all sorts of music.
Unfortunately, in the general humdrum of getting things done, there are times when I forget the importance of music and how it has the power to lift me out of lows or make the highs even higher. Music is divine and hence its power, I'm hoping that writing about it will remind me that I have this constant companion that I can turn to at any time of the day.
Some of it by design, given my parents' high inclination for music - Mummy with her choices of western classical notes and Papa with his constant singing and Indian classical bent. And some of it when I discovered that I really enjoy music - right from the Michael Jackson tracks to our very own desi Indo-pop numbers with their riveting videos featuring the most drop-dead good looking of Indian male models of that time (I'm speaking of the mid-nineties). Milind Soman in Alisha Chinai's Made in India, Marc Robinson in her Lover Girl, Shahid Kapoor in Aankhon Mein Tera Chehra and Jas Arora in Gud Naal Ishq Mitha. However silly these videos look now, those were the days of huge crushes on these men and evenings spent imagining the same situation closer home. :P
Then Anantapur happened. A phase of music of a different genre but as deeply engrossing and moving as the indo-pop romantic numbers I wouldn't miss on Sunday mornings. No more videos though, there was almost no access and no time for any TV viewing. And who says we didn't have our fun - there were lots of programs to conceptualize which involved picking tracks and stringing them together to come together in a soulful presentation with dances, drama and musical pieces. And of course the class parties and room parties where the girls would let loose.
IIMB was where perhaps I picked up my current habit of listening to lots of music across genres along with a deep-rooted love for dancing. There was music for mornings, and music for evenings. There were songs for when I was feeling a certain way, and songs that put my mind into different orbits. There was music for me-times and music for group masti. There were favourites to be listened to with besties. There was music for impromptu girls dance parties. (We were all of 24 girls to a batch of 206 and many of us loved dancing. So much so that on some occasions we would just get into one room and let loose. Gosh, I miss those days. Sigh.)
There was music for dancing and exercising and music for romantic day-dreaming. There were songs for different weather patterns, songs for different times of the day. Like this one, which I still associate with cloudy, cool evenings (it used to blare out of different rooms on different days, so popular was it with the A-top (our wing in the hostel) girls. There was music for rainy nights spent doing timepass. There was devotional music for early mornings when I would wake up in time to have a leisurely shower and a mindful breakfast all by myself, under the sky.
There was also hindustani classical with friends who taught me the subtle nuances of different ragas played on different instruments. (In fact it was my first proper exposure to classical music and some of my friends were so deeply into it, something I found rather unusual and therefore, fascinating, for young adults. For some reason I had always associated classical music with older people, unless they were singers trained in classical.)
But yes, the IIMB years sort of brought out the latent love for music of different sorts. And it's power to heal and set things right. It was a much-loved companion wherever I was, something I always had easy access to, something that I turned to at all sorts of moments.
I carried this love to work at Unilever, where we would do all sorts of fun things like play your song sessions after 6 PM in the evening, when different people in the team would take turns to play their favourite songs full-volume. The people on our floor would look on amused as half the team would be blaring hindi music loudly from their laptops while we worked hard. I'm sure they loved the energy and vibrance the totally Bollywood music brought to an otherwise quiet workplace.
Many years later, running my own startup and working out of a shared-working space, the option of listening to music loudly with co-workers pitching in, doesn't exist, sadly. However, music continues to revive and rejuvenate me. Through early morning vedam or bhajan pieces that bring positive energies into my day. Through dance classes in the evenings, where I move to the latest Bollywood numbers. Or through dance sessions with Aahaan when we both sway to all sorts of music.
Unfortunately, in the general humdrum of getting things done, there are times when I forget the importance of music and how it has the power to lift me out of lows or make the highs even higher. Music is divine and hence its power, I'm hoping that writing about it will remind me that I have this constant companion that I can turn to at any time of the day.
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