Saturday, February 14, 2009

Bathroom Super Singer.

We have our college culturals coming up sometime next month. We as PG students are supposed to give a host performance. A mail was sent out a couple of days back, asking for people who sing or have participated in music competitions. Me being the enthu-pattani, replied back to the mail saying I've participated in competitions and am a classically trained singer. :D Which is true in a way. I've been learning music since I was 8yrs old. Not continuously, but in spurts. 
I make no tall claims of showing signs of talent when I was barely 3, all i did when I was 3yrs was stand in front of the TV and sing "anjali anjali anjali", with full make up. :P Having been through the rigors of paatu-class, dance-class painting class blah blah.I had an option.  I stopped going to dance class because there was a huge dog in the compound plus I had two left-feet. Painting has never been my friend. I hold the paint brush, like a pencil, and my paintings or drawings look like those by 3yr olds who can't read or write. So, the only talent I was left with was singing. I liked singing the best.
Singing has always been a constant. I used to collect stamps for some time, and then moved onto making scrapbooks, dabbled with coin collection. Only music stayed on. If I was granted one wish, I would wish to be a singer. I've always had a sort of a respect for the profession, classical and non-classical. I mock sing in front of the mirror every morning. The comb is my mike, furniture my audience. To me its an honour in itself to be on stage in front of an audience.  The adulation and applause are equal to none other. I envy those people who manage to go on stage, do that mike check and sing with panache. I wish I could do that.. Looking at those people gives me a high!
I simply love singing. It doesn't matter if my shruti and talam are misplaced. I am a self proclaimed bathroom super singer.
I sing, in the bathroom, in traffic jams (I don't get loose change), and its better than exchanging a slew of colourful swear words, in the class when am bored, in the exam hall. I sing anywhere and everywhere. Sometimes, I sing to entertain and otherwise to irritate. 
My on-stage singing experiences have always been disasters. School competitions were out of reach because of stage fear, I still do. In college, we sang chinna chinna aasai for our freshers so well that Mr.ARR would have committed suicide if he'd heard us on stage. We missed the shruti, the keyboardist started playing after we started. in short the whole thing was nothing short of a disaster. After we finished our "performance", Usha.V couldn't believe that we had just murdered a beautiful song. A year later we gave Naresh Iyer a shock of his life, we again managed to kill Columbus Columbus and Mana Madurai. Only thing we did properly was drool over him.
Trained classical singer has always been a social status of sorts. You get this really nice "Oh! you sing!" look from many people and get random requests to sing, which is quite easy.How can I forget singing during Navaratri-Golu, you sing at someone's place, they'll appreciate your talent by sending you off with a nice packet of sundal and a Re.1 coin. It was a part of my hobbies list in my resume until, an interviewer asked me to sing a song in some ragam which I never knew existed. It went off my resume promptly. 
When they asked for names, I gave mine happily. I don't know if I'll perform on stage. If I am given a chance, I'll sing for my life! If I don't I'll at least attend paatu-class regularly. That way I can spend 3hrs a week doing what I love doing the most. 
I sing; therefore I am :)

Thursday, February 5, 2009

Neat Freak Vs. Neat Freak.

On a fine Saturday morning, my brother and I decided to merge rooms. We were talking about, how his other friends had “kids” room, and parents' room and our house did not have one. Thus the germling of the merger was born.
My bro and I are at loggerheads 99.99% of the time. Be it for the TV remote, who reads the newspaper first, Why did you take my pencil, why should I do your bio diagrams, there is always a tiff. I want to use the computer now to why did you did change the song. The end result of all this is always a war like zone. Neither of us talk to each other for sometime, but at the end of the day we'll need to get back to each other. We sign a really cute peace treaty and say "ok, from now on we'll not fight ok?" and this will last for exactly 60mins before the next argument starts.
It's not all fights all the time, we're each others confidants, worst enemies and bestest of friends. we've share everything from his current crush to mine. The stupid chemistry teacher and my screwed up stats ma'm. There's a lot in common, the music, the books we read (he uses my unused AIEEE books and I use his unused classwork notebooks), now we decided to share the room. now you know why this is a BIG thing really. We are what you'd call an oxymoron, we can't stand each other sometimes and we cant do without either. we grew up fighting with each other and now, fighting for each other. Am his un-named ATM and he's my piggy bank. It's been a roller-coaster ride for 16 long years. 
So, we decided to move his things into what was previously called "my-room". The imposing, "room; like it or leave it", is still stuck on the door. So, sharing my guarded privacy with him was something which was unthinkable previously. Some sudden brainwave struck our brains, and we sat down and discussed the possibilities of the "merger". My folks were dead against it. When you have two brats in the same room, managing trouble becomes tougher. After a long haul of arguments and convincing sessions, my dad finally agreed. But it was on us to move the things around in the room. 
Pre-merger: My room looked like a war savaged zone. there was no way you could enter, without tripping on a few books or gliding on sheets of paper. My clothes were dumped on one end of the bed. My books stood like a tall building on a chair. At any given point, you could find, a half-read novel lying on the pillow, my college books lying untouched beside it. food is an add on and blaring music from the computer. My mom affectionately called it, a "pig-sty".
Merger: 
This is how we went about the process:
Step-1: Adi decided to bring his "people" along with him. By people I mean his posters. He's got this strange fetish of ripping off pictures from Sportstar every week and sticking them across the doors. He decided to bring them into his new room. I had to do the job of pulling them off and re-sticking them in my room.
Step2: This was the toughest. Moving things about the room. I had to push the bed to the other side of the room, the computer table to where the bed was, and move in his study table. I could have put these pictures on NDTV's Scope for Improvement show.
Step3: Was arranging the items. His table looked the neatest and my table aka the bed was its usual self.
Post-merger:
How things have changed: I now wake up to Dayle Steyn and Kevin Peterson. The bathroom door has Kimi Raikonen and other arbit folks adorning the other door. A stray football and a couple of cork balls lie in the middle of the room; their original place is the study table.  Our room looks pretty clean now. Much much cleaner than what it was before. It's clean thanks to my bro. It has also become a no-paper zone. Every evening when I come back from college, am instructed to put my BL on the rack and not on the floor. No stray clothes either.
Major disadvantage is, my privacy seems to be lost. All his perfumes and gels occupy a place on my side table. Every now and then, am threatened to "clean-up" the room. 
Advantages: I get to listen to some real time gossip. Everytime I overhear him on the phone, I seriously think there exists a generation-gap between us. I have talking company! Yes, I bug him with my incessant torture now. Has built a really strong fevibond. Discussions sessions can be easily conducted by simply shutting the door. I cant think of too many advantages :P.
The best thing and the worst thing about the room merging concept is. My room is no more called the “pig-sty”, it has lost its original charm and identity. Good thing! Its super clean and super nice to look at :D 

PS: Don't mind the structure of the post. My Anna-univ hangover hasn't worn off yet.