I have stayed back in my car just to listen to the ongoing track to the end. I have taken longer routes only to shuffle through more songs before I reach home. I often don’t mind getting stuck in the traffic because that means...you guessed it, a few extra minutes of my music.
Weird, I know. But read on only if you find it charmingly weird ;)
My headphones were my constant companions — they still are, but I just couldn’t ditch them back in the day. But the thing was that I wouldn’t play my music on a speaker even when at home. Everybody knew that I was deep into my music, but nobody had a clue about the kind of songs playing in my ear except for me. And that wasn’t by accident.
What if someone heard them? What if they judged me harshly for my taste? These were some of the questions (rather, fears) I had. I liked what I was listening to but sharing that with others was a whole different game. I dreaded it so much that I would’ve rather been on the sinking Titanic than tell someone what my favourite tune was.
These strong reservations stem from the need for acceptance and appreciation from others.
Yeah, I believed in this bullcrap, too. External assurances don’t mean anything, and sure enough, my taste in music wasn’t a problem.
You just need to be comfortable in your own skin. Accept yourself for what you are, the things you do, and the stuff you like. You are unique. You are you. And that alone matters, nothing else. Or going by the theme, I could say this with a lovely Kishore Kumar song: Kuch to log kahenge, logon ka kaam hai kehna...
Ever since this settled into my psyche, everything around me has gotten a lot better and easier, just like the soothing effect Mohit Chauhan’s velvety voice has on your mind.
Now I am at a point where I could hold you at gunpoint to make you listen to the little-known Punjabi song I discovered and tell you all about how I found it and what makes it so special. And maybe — just maybe — I’d judge you for not being as enthusiastic as me. I could even unashamedly sing karaoke in my tuneless voice without being bothered about a soul around me (though I could probably use a partner who is as shameless).
My Instagram feed these days is full of pages and reels with indie artists and their covers that not a lot of people have heard. And I just can’t stop myself from liking and saving each one of them. I’m drawn to places where music is playing. You said live music? Heck yeah, I’m in — fuck sitting, I’ll stay on my feet for the whole set. And if it’s in Punjabi...you’ll have to actually see how my head turns when I hear Punjabi. The language hits home like no other. It feels as warm as the homemade panjiri and pinnis I’ve devoured this winter.
It has now turned into a shared community affair for me. I have friends who send me some good music ever so often while others have thrown open their entire playlists to take my picks. So, never think twice before sending me clips or song suggestions — ever. I’ll, in fact, cherish you for filling up my DMs with songs. And while we’re at it, I am a proud owner of a heavenly ghazal collection that keeps getting updated almost every week. Whenever you’re around me, ask me to play it and see my eyes light up sharing my connection with each one of them.
Somewhere between those two ends — not sharing anything to being open about my belongings — I became the current version of myself. And as the title says, music is just a metaphor; there’s a lot more that I’ve started sharing and even accepting from others. By way of music, I share a piece of me, my emotions, the inner me, the real me.
So, to give you a peek into my soul, I’m opening up my pitaaraa of some of the choicest, handpicked songs that have become a part of me. And of course, the playlist starts with a ghazal:
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