Sing it, sistah

I’ve blogged about bad boys before. A friend’s comment on Facebook reminded me of them again. Girls only fall for the bad boys, she said rather regretfully.

They do. The first bad boy I fell for was my dad. Curly haired, leather jacket wearing, chain smoking, guitar playing, voice of an angel, vicious temper, impulsive, passionate, quick smile, wicked sense of humour, he was the original biker doing 20-day bike trips. What’s not to love?

I fell for bad boys after my dad too, although as I’ve mentioned before, I married the OA, the quintessential dependable guy who waits in the wings until you break your heart over one of them and then sweeps in, picks up the pieces and walks into the sunset with you in his arms. I married him because he probably reminded me of the gentle, steady man who raised me, my maternal grandpa. My rock.

Anyway, the reason girls fall for bad boys, is because they’re the king of the grand gesture. Banging at your hostel gate at midnight on your birthday, with a cake (yes, that’s my dad again), writing you songs (an ex), choosing to spend their last rupee calling you instead of buying toothpaste (an ex again) and so on.

I saw this advertisement today and it reminded me of my parents. You know those cute little naked babies that feature in the Love is… cartoon strip?

My dad used to make them up for my mum, sketch them and create one specially for her, every couple of weeks, depending on what the current ‘affair’ was. She showed them to me years ago and I don’t know if she still has them. She’d collected them all carefully of course. The art work was good and the idea and his sense of humour shone through. They were a grand gesture in those days. And it worked. He swept her off her feet. He still does the most utterly cute things for her and it doesn’t matter that my brother and I will never be in the inner circle. There’s enough warmth from that fire for the two of us to stand by the side and warm our hands.

Here is the advertisement – watch it to know what caught my attention. It is particularly dear because of the soundtrack. “I can’t help falling in love.” I have a nice clear voice (even if it doesn’t bring in awards at the moment!) and Dad has an awesome Neil Diamond voice. We sing this song very well together and the Bean has begun to sing with him. It’s the cutest sight – She sings Summer Wine with him.

By the by, the other day we were listening to Adele singing Lovesong. I was on the first floor singing softly along with it. The OA was on the ground floor getting the kids to do their homework or something. He shut off the music and I just adjusted my volume to make up for it, singing loud and clear. And the Bean came running to the foot of the stairs – “Is that mama or Adele?”, she said.

The acoustics were flattering I guess, because for once I let my voice soar, and sang with all my heart. And felt a pang for the talent I’ve let lie by the wayside. The blog I’ve abandoned. The career I don’t have. The home I’ve left and come away. I put all the pain and hunger into my voice and it showed.ย I sang while the OA and the kids stood at the foot of the stairs and listened to my voice in the stairwell.

When it was over, the OA looked up and said mildly – Why are we wasting your voice? Why haven’t you gone back to training it?

I don’t know. I think I’m incapable of devoting my energy to more than one thing at a time and for the last ten years it has been my kids. I hummed lullabies softly, intent on lulling them to sleep, not impressing them.

Years ago while singing the Brat (who only spoke hindi in those days) said – Mama, tum kitna ganda gaati ho. Mat gao.

We laughed it off, but I think I slowly stopped thinking of my voice as special. I was a mama who happened to have a voice and it didn’t matter.

Over the last month or two, as I sit here in a strange country, missing everything that was dear, the house to myself, I sing loud and clear and I enjoy my voice. For the first time in my life, I sing for myself, not for my parents, my music teacher, my friends, an audience. No, just for myself, and I love it. I take pleasure in it and I feel my lungs expand and my range grow.

Someday I will go back to training. For now, I’m back, baby.

Err.. just my voice. Not necessarily back to blogging. Just know that I think of you guys and want to blog, but it’s too raw and too harsh and I don’t want them trolls coming back!

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28 thoughts on “Sing it, sistah

  1. Your voice is awesome. We want to hear it ( in print and if lucky enough…in sound).
    I have for some reason been haunting your blog for the past few weeks, in the hopes that a post would appear. Your writing has warmth to it no matter the topic. It was joy to see this.Thank you.

  2. I guess I got to start acting bad then..

    Yes sing and sing out loud always.. thats what I do these days.. people may think I am mad .. but what do they know ๐Ÿ™‚

    Take care and my best wishes and don’t let these idiot trolls keep you away..

  3. You are so rich, you of the multiple voices, musical and literary. I say this not as consolation. I marvel. Blare your heart out, girl. Let your city know song.

  4. Hi MM! This post resonates so much with me too. I used to sing too and had a nice, clear voice. But life caught up with me and my music training stopped. Some 13 years back. These days I too sing along to my favourite songs playing on the laptop while cooking at home. Of course, there’s no audience. I think if there were one, I would probably not sing.

    But baby steps!
    Much love and hugs and hope you settle down in the strange country sooner rather than later and don’t forget about this space here. ๐Ÿ™‚

  5. MM, your voice is beautiful. How do I know? It’s because some centuries ago you had put up an audio clip on your (old) blog. You were talking to baby Bean and said something like ‘Lion kaise karta hai?’ and we heard the little Bean roar in return. Atleast I think it was the lion, or was it the dog? I hope you remember what I am talking about ๐Ÿ˜€ I remember appreciating your voice quality even that day. God, it feels like an era has passed..I was probably in the end of my teens myself. Anyway, so glad to know your voice is back and I hope it is here to stay.

    PS – Please stop caring about the trolls and come back to the blog too!

  6. Love you, love your babies and sure will love your voice someday when I get you to sing for me in our very own special mehfil. I’ll get V to strum the guitar for you and mum will play tanpura if you need it:) sing, darling, sing. It is spirituality for the body and soul.

  7. Dear MM, I hadn’t ventured through the blogosphere in ages, stubbornly so. But I was interrupted by an acoustic rendering of a popular song that left me desperate to know how *you* were doing. It wasn’t even a particularly moving rendition, but I couldn’t shake the itch to come here. I was afraid to be dealt with silence, closed chapters and the subsequent anxiety over a relationship that exists only through words. But I know now that you are ok because I can hear you singing.

    • Share the song, please? ๐Ÿ™‚
      What you listening to, these days? I’ve been listening to a lot of Coke Studio, Kris Kristofferson, Joe Bonamassa. I know, strange combination, but that’s what it is.
      And when I wrote this post I felt a pang for all the readers who I thought no longer read. I think some of who started blogging at a certain time, have drifted away. So it’s particularly happy making to see you back.

  8. Since when did we write to please others? shut off the comments. barr the trolls, and write!
    that’s a sad reason to abandon writing – because of assholes who might respond crudely and ruin your day. who cares? who cares if someone has a nice comment to write, or something bad to say – this place is your catharsis and your space. you already have steady followers – and they’ll flock here as long as you throw a grain or two..let the haters hate…and potatoes potate! ๐Ÿ˜€
    i’m 25 and i think ive been reading your blog since i was like 21 or something. if you must, then cater to us, not the damn trolls.

    And if you’re feeling vulnerable..shut off comments, screw the world, and flit away on your keyboard. We’re waiting.

    • We don’t, we don’t. We really don’t give a flying eff. But the internet has changed since I started blogging. There are strangers around, as opposed to the ‘friends’ I made. It’s not their comments I fear. I can just delete them. I simply don’t want to share with them. Sadly you guys end up being a casualty in that. ๐Ÿ˜ฆ

  9. I donโ€™t remember ever feeling this way after reading a post on your blog.. This post leaves me wanting to embrace you in a tight hug and patting your back and saying..โ€Now Now, it will be alrightโ€. Wish the change wasnโ€™t so hard on you MM. Wish I could help.

    Please know that there are several times I think of you,. At 2 AM when I am rocking my boys, wondering why they are crying when all they should feel is love in mommaโ€™s arms, Times when Chub laughs loudly when I am reprimanding him for not taking his naps, Times when I am looking at angelic face nursingโ€ฆthe time when I had to say bye to my ma in the airport and though she never said it, we could see how sad she was that she wont be able to see my Twinkles growing for the next 6 months. I feel like I an owe an apology for deciding to be so far away.

    Hugs MM..look forward to reading you more often.

  10. Oh MM, how I’ve missed you.

    I went off the blogging radar after I went through a divorce and shut my old blog down, and today something made me look you up and now I’m sitting here in a bubble of warmth again.

    Please sing. I have no idea what your voice sounds like but I’m willing to bet it’s beautiful, like molten gold perhaps? ๐Ÿ˜€ More importantly, I think you should sing because if it makes you happy, and if it feels like your soul is bleeding love and light then really, what else matters?

    Trolls be damned. There is so much goodness here, anyone who can’t see or feel it is clearly not in tune with the Universe.

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