This is a part of my childhood that I cherish. It was a dingy room, dimly lit with a musty scent. A makeshift storeroom and a “pooja room” as well. The only thing of interest that it had was a music system. It was the origin of a mixed tape that introduced me to a host of music that opened my world. It was a room that crooned M.S Subalaxmi with as much ease as it crooned Judas Priest and Megadeth. There was never even a single morning when I felt why I was waking up to this music at full blast.
It comforted me when I was sad over bad grades, heartbreak or a moment of unrequited love. It told me it was going to be ok when I felt I was stuck between a rock and a hard place as it told me I wasn’t exaggerating my issues. It was a place where I built a relationship with my sibling beyond being born to the same parents. Even though it was a shared space with my brother and my parents (just during the morning hour or a festival where my mom paid obeisance to the countless idols in that small space), it was my place. I have shed many a tear without shame, smiled at myself countless times and felt…..at home.
The fact that I remember that space and recall it fondly now is perhaps because I miss my place. My home, my people….myself. The past few months/years have been hard on me more than I would like to admit. I feel ashamed at admitting it because what is wrong? People I love are doing fine, my family is fine, and we are financially stable and doing well. And yet, it has been hard. Harder because I keep comparing myself to those who are having “real” problems. I mean people are dying for god’s sake and I keep feeling what is missing. I look at the many posts on how we should be grateful, and thankful for what we have. I am thankful of course, but when does being only thankful ever been easy? Why can’t I even process things the way I always have? Why doesn’t anything move me anymore? What made me move from my room, my space and think I shouldn’t and couldn’t feel all the things no matter how embarrassing they were. And it is not like I haven't been through things I found harder to deal with.
How many of us have been feeling the same way and pushing our feelings down thinking it is not as important in the larger scheme of things? Even if they are not, why push it?
When I experience a life-defining moment, I reach out to people I haven’t spoken to in a while. I think back on the unfinished chapters and regret them, trying to correct the wrong. But there is a problem there. Not everyone processes things the same way you do or feels that it is a loose end that needs to be tied. And when you gather the guts to actually “fix it”, it makes the situation worse. Because it took two to leave the story unfinished and it would take two to finish it as well. And who knows if you like what you read.
I am still figuring out what helps in such a case. But from what I gather, just hold on to the things that you have control over and that make you feel good. Go for the “hard way” rather than the easy way out. For me, it was easier to try to fix the loose ends because that way I have someone else to blame and not myself.
For now, music helps because it all started in that room. That room was my safe haven and place of solace. In the room where I confided in music each and every sibling fight, parent outburst, and my deepest of feelings which I could not understand and process. Much like now. I find my solace in any room with the music playing as loud as it used just so it drowns the thoughts. And as long as I do not find another way, I am staying put!
