“Que Sera Sera…” Doris Day scantly had time to start off the first line of her song and I had clicked the wheel on my iPod to go past it. I was feeling restless, in a state of nervous excitement and had already forwarded through Devdas, Dil Chahta Hai and Dhoom, pausing only to hear Don McLean.
I flicked my eyes down to the screen- Son of a Preacher Man, it flashed with the name of the artist scrolling, “Dusty Springfield.” I paused in my incessant clicking and sat back in my seat as the memories came flooding back.
Songs are powerful, aren’t they? They trigger all the thoughts and ideas you had somehow buried at the very edge of remembrance. They remind you of how it had been, how people had been- what life had truly meant.
Taking time to make time… Learning from each others’ knowing, looking to see how much we’ve grown.
Don’t turn off the lights always cracked me up. I still remember Vimitha’s earnest face when she assured me that Enrique Iglesias was the next best thing since sliced bread. Vimz was always like this. Earnest, dependable, always on hand to do the right thing, and NEVER thought bad things about anything. For Pete’s sake, she liked Enrique Iglesias!
All of us mused on the idea and turned on the music system.
5 seconds later, I giggled. “Eh, Vimz. You adore his squeaky voice, right?”
Vimz looked suitably puzzled, “What?”
Reshmi had understood what I meant, “You know, where he goes, don’t turn off the li-yiieeets.”
Both of us burst into spontaneous giggles again while Divya looked on impassively. (She’d always been the grown up one, right?)
“Yeaaaaah! It’s even better with the chorus. Ee-ah-ee-yah-ay!”, I happily went on.
Vimz finally got the joke, “Shrutz, you have ruined the song for me!”
“My pleasure, as always.”
And, for this great love that Vimz has for Enrique, I transferred these really bad songs onto my iPod.
Now, Rush is trickier. She was the one person I used to constantly hang around with, but there was never that one song that seemed to say to me, “This is her.” Till I remember… again… those words.
We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun…
To Rush then, Westlife’s Seasons in the Sun. She was the one I always strangely felt protective towards, but somehow knew that she was strong. My cute and funny third cousin once removed. Snooty Syrian Christian blood aside, I am always glad I got to know her.
To Divz, the steadfast soldier, the one who always plodded on regardless of what she ever REALLY felt, the one who ate potato chips everyday and never gained an ounce, the one who was always dependable, always Divyasree J… the only song I can ever ascribe to her… Noori. And yes, her ghost impressions are VERY good!
Euphoria’s songs hold special meaning in my life.
The first one is Maeri which was the L^2 staple. I remember sitting on the ground in the pouring rain with my batch around me singing loudly, I remember being giddy with happiness, sad and even crying when the sad stirrings of the music were just too much for me to bear. Maeri’s been an anti-anthem for me, the symbol of the youth and freedom I had that somehow were slipping away all too quickly.
The second one is for another one of those special women in my life. Pooj (Aka Pooh Bear. She hates that) She always brings back the Dhoom in my life. Without her, listening to Phir Dhoom would never be the same. The memories are of stage performances, of standing next to Pooj, squeezing her hand, and grinning manically through jeers and STILL going on… She’s the support, she’s the strong strong one. She’s just special and for her, I keep listening to this one.
Jeryn- my neighbour for longer than I knew. The neighbour I knew only for the last two years in my college life. Maybe the guy I ought to have known a long time before, if only to SMS insults starting with P for one whole day after only knowing each other for 5 days. Period. Seriously. He pinged me one day in his characteristic way.
“Do you listen to Beegees?”
“Yeah. I like Words.”
“You will like this.”
Jeryn is sending you New York Mining Disaster 1941- Beegees.mp3. Accept? Decline?
I accepted, got hooked on Beegees and still play them on repeat on Youtube. And yes, New York Mining Disaster 1941 is one of my most favourite songs. And this song is Jeryn to a tee as well, concise, abrupt and filled with meaning.
Chingamasam to Josen, the perennial worry wart. He needs to always reassure himself that everything is, will be and was all right. But of course, he is saying that just to reassure YOU! What did you think, huh? He needs to remember those hours and hours we spent- from editing videos and studying hard for CAT, to discussing life, the universe and everything. It’s funny, I don’t know what songs he likes, but this song is always linked to the dance in my mind and the dance to the camera man.
Rishab, childhood friend through thick and thin, my Polly Wolly Doodle All the Day. Rouged cheeks, yellow dresses and tuxedos apart, thanks for being there, dude.
Bitter Sweet Symphony is the most ironic song in my collection of song-stories. This one is to the friendship I shared through my school days, and to the girl who lost touch… almost delibrately it sometime seems. This song to lost friends and companions.
To those who spend time wondering… Linkin Park answers. In the end, it doesn’t really matter.
Vinay, the always energized child I know. The one who used to break out into a deverish-like dance everytime Appadi Podu played on the dance floor. And STILL had energy to dance for Manmadarasa. For Vinay, I want these songs to be played on repeat. He needs to keep playing his life like this!
For Abby, I only have the theme song to F.R.I.E.N.D.S, I’ll be there for you! And if Abhay doesn’t get this allusion, he deserves another kick! I shall gladly give it to him.
For Mama, I always have a rousing encore of Tera Suroor Himesstyle. He’d be delighted to know he actually looks like Himes bhai with the baddd cap days!
Sonal gets Sajnaji Vari Vari. Yes, I remember Meenu tai and I danced to her tune on her sangeet. Like so many have before and so many will later in life! Sonal is also rum and coke… the final push into total drunkenness!
I’d love to say I had a song for Ken (maybe Punjabi?). But I don’t. Ken’s the video to these songs with a 360 degree pan shot. Ken’s nonsense limericks and nursery rhymes. Ken is the picture that speaks a thousand words and the biggest grin at the end of the worst joke. There is no song for Ken. (And he is complaining about it now!)
The only one who could ever teach me was the son of a preacher man. Yes, he was…. Dusty Springfield finished her song.
Sam, this song is always for you.