My Favourite Song

Response to a Prompt

‘Lost in thought and lost in time While the seeds of life and the seeds of change were planted Outside, the rain fell dark and slow While I pondered on this dangerous but irresistible pastime I took a heavenly ride through our silence I knew the moment had arrived For killing the past and coming back to life’

‘Coming Back to Life’ : Pink Floyd ; lyric, written by David Gilmour

There is something about the English Language and Literature teachers that seem to appeal to students en masse. My 33 years of being one of this breed have been a time of both excitement and enjoyment. It has also made me a repository of confidence in my role as Mother Confessor and chief advisor. For some reason that I have not been able to analyse, kids come to me with secrets that they wouldn’t dream of imparting to anyone else. Students have a tough time walking a daily minefield of what society, the world, and public opinion expects them to do.

Then, there are those who lead lives of seemingly inescapable trauma. Life with a father who takes a belt to his daughter if she mentions music is on her phone after 7 pm or invites anyone home. Life with a physically and verbally abusive mother. Life with an over-possessive girlfriend. Life with a ‘loving’ uncle, whose ‘love’ both parents pretend not to notice. Life with a gym teacher with restless hands. Life with parents who believe that only a son is worth spending money on.

…and the list goes on.

Every one of the students whose lives I have mentioned here is free, at liberty, and living their lives the way they want to, after a few conversations, dialogues, and monologues.

But what does one say to a student who is convinced that his father killed his mother? Who has become almost unhinged because of it? Who refuses all professional help because ‘I am not mad?’ Who feels that the entire Universe is conspiring against him?

…and who has the oversensitive soul of an artist?

His brother pleaded for help for him. “He trusts you,” he said, “he trusts you more than anyone else I know.”

So I began talking to the student. For two whole months, he refused to answer. After a couple of months, he began to participate in the conversation.

“You know nothing about music,” he used to tell me with magnificent scorn and sought to teach me.

Growing up, as I did, in a tiny little town in Kerala, I had no access to any music except the Malayalam and Hindi songs we heard on our old radio. There was no TV or telephone. English songs and music entered my life after my marriage and after being uprooted from Kerala and transplanted to Mumbai.

But much of what I know about many groups, troupes, and tropes of music is the result of the educational course this particular student magnanimously put me through.

Since he had no sense of time and space, of what was acceptable and what was not, he used to call up at all odd hours of the day, or night, ramble on and on for four or five hours, and then stop abruptly without a word, and disconnect. Sometimes this used to be four hours of music that he played over the phone, or trivia about his favourite singer, at the time.

And he introduced me to Pink Floyd.

I was struck ‘all of a heap.’

Blown over, consumed, entranced, enchanted, engulfed, drowned…

Wherever I go, a word, a phrase, a riff, a pace of Pink Floyd causes me to smile and glow. Life looks better than before, and the world is more beautiful.

After nine months of constant conversation and quiet counselling, he finally agreed to visit a therapist. And a year later, I realised, to my intense joy, that he was ‘coming back to life.’

For as long as I live, this will be my favourite song, my favourite space, and my favourite place.

For it tells me, more than an entire library of books, that music can transform life.

Touch a heart.

Save a soul.

Thank you.

ⓒ 2022 Suma Narayan. All Rights Reserved.

This is a response to Nancy Blackman’s prompt, and the 30-day writing challenge.