We were returning rather late in the car, Anjali and me. That kind of late when our bodies are weary, traffic is thin, eyes are heavy and life has quietened down to a crawl. We were perhaps even too tired to play music so we drove on silently. I was hoping she would not fall asleep before we reached home.
After a while she decided to play some music.
;Music nanna?' she asked.
I nodded. She fiddled with the music player and the CD played. It was a rather loud, item number (Indiawale from Happy New Year). Not my choice of music for that time of the day but I know children like their music to be peppy and loud so I was silent. (It was also one of Anjali's favorites that she made me burn on this CD so all the more reason for me to stay silent.)
'No,' she decided after a moment into that song. 'Not this song. You can't hear this loud song at this time. We need to hear something softer and quieter. No nanna?'
Then she picked a nice soft number (Samjhawan from Humpty Sharma ki Dulhania). Wow! My heart leaped. The perfect choice for the moment. That's nice if she could sense that.
Many don't get it - the appropriateness of things. The fragility of the environment and the mood of the moment. For example, the day before my friend came home for dinner. He was leaving way past midnight. Before he left he insisted that I listen to the music he was listening to these days and called me over to his car. Big car. Bigger system. Then he proceeded to play the loudest music and turned up the volume so loud that it must have woken up everybody in the neighborhood in the two minutes he played it. Nothing in my demeanour said I wanted to hear that. Nothing in the still and quiet environment required it. The neighbourhood was sleeping. Why would he do something like that and disturb the beauty of the moment? But that's how sensibilities are.
It shows a disrespect to the environment, to people and their moods, to the time of the day, to the community around you, to nature itself.
Here, music has to enhance the moment. Not destroy it. Words have to. Silences have to.
The rest of the drive was wonderful.
The next day we were both heading to school. Bright sunny morning. Anjali fiddled with the system. 'Indiawale' came on again.
'Now its ok,' she said with a smile. 'We need a song like this at this time. There are different songs for different times no nanna.'
Yes Anjali. There are. Different moments require different things. I am glad you realised that.
After a while she decided to play some music.
;Music nanna?' she asked.
I nodded. She fiddled with the music player and the CD played. It was a rather loud, item number (Indiawale from Happy New Year). Not my choice of music for that time of the day but I know children like their music to be peppy and loud so I was silent. (It was also one of Anjali's favorites that she made me burn on this CD so all the more reason for me to stay silent.)
'No,' she decided after a moment into that song. 'Not this song. You can't hear this loud song at this time. We need to hear something softer and quieter. No nanna?'
Then she picked a nice soft number (Samjhawan from Humpty Sharma ki Dulhania). Wow! My heart leaped. The perfect choice for the moment. That's nice if she could sense that.
Many don't get it - the appropriateness of things. The fragility of the environment and the mood of the moment. For example, the day before my friend came home for dinner. He was leaving way past midnight. Before he left he insisted that I listen to the music he was listening to these days and called me over to his car. Big car. Bigger system. Then he proceeded to play the loudest music and turned up the volume so loud that it must have woken up everybody in the neighborhood in the two minutes he played it. Nothing in my demeanour said I wanted to hear that. Nothing in the still and quiet environment required it. The neighbourhood was sleeping. Why would he do something like that and disturb the beauty of the moment? But that's how sensibilities are.
It shows a disrespect to the environment, to people and their moods, to the time of the day, to the community around you, to nature itself.
Here, music has to enhance the moment. Not destroy it. Words have to. Silences have to.
The rest of the drive was wonderful.
The next day we were both heading to school. Bright sunny morning. Anjali fiddled with the system. 'Indiawale' came on again.
'Now its ok,' she said with a smile. 'We need a song like this at this time. There are different songs for different times no nanna.'
Yes Anjali. There are. Different moments require different things. I am glad you realised that.
1 comment:
Very poignant and visual.
An annoying cultural habit I come across is playing loud religious songs early morning either in public spaces or at home itself. It wakes up the devil itself.
Sensibilities are linked to EQ.
Sensible anjali and lucky nana.★
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