It was a cold January night in Dallas, when I was sitting and applying for jobs so that one day, I could bask in the enwreathing glory of becoming a mechanical robot just like every other person I know. As I was getting ready to go to bed while listening to Nothing Else Matters by Metallica, I realized something. My car keys were missing yet again. I rushed out of my apartment and ran towards the car thinking I must have left it inside and locked the door just like the four other times I had done before. But to my dismay, it wasn’t there. I hunted for it everywhere, I called all the people I had met that day hoping someone would have seen it but no one had the faintest of clues. I even walked all the way to the grocery store in my pajamas, but no luck.
As I walked back, I was lost in mindless thought, about my keys, my negligence and all that I could have done to be a little more careful. Even reading an email on my phone about my interview call for a job opportunity as a credit analyst (a.k.a getting-a-head-start-to-being-the-queen-rat-of-corportate-culture) made me feel no better. It was like my ignorance was dancing in front of my very own eyes and I could do nothing about it. I was facing few of the toughest riddles of life waiting to be frantically answered by me. I desperately needed to cry while someone hugged me listening to my ridiculous curses to the unreasonable follies of my stupid life. I eventually went back to my apartment freezing in places no human being should ever freeze.
When I finally reached my room, all that I did was instinctively play the song “Vidukathaiya Intha Vaazhkai" from Rajnikanth’s old but classic movie Muthu. Yes, I listen to Tamil songs at a surprisingly high rate, no need to be all shocked, it isn’t a crime. Anyway, what I was getting to was that I had finally found the company I had wanted, to share the miseries that so badly needed to be shared. I ended up playing that song repeatedly along with a few other sad songs for a couple of hours till I fell asleep.
It was only the next day that a small thought came to my mind. How would life be if there was background music all the time? Wouldn’t each and every single incident become more meaningful if there was some background music? Imagine how a romantic scene in a movie would look like without a background score? (Unimaginable, yeah?)
I thus started imagining all possible situations of life where we miss some kick ass background music. For example, when we see a person whom we have a crush on we automatically start imagining a background score associating them with it and unknowingly that song becomes an unforgettable part of our lives. For instance, wouldn’t Surya and Jyotika look stupid in the movie Kaka Kaka if “Ondra Renda Asaigal” wasn’t played at the right time? Imagine how motivated one would be if there was a background score every time someone went out to bat in a cricket match or even when one started studying? (Singam Ondru Purappattadhey :P)
I strongly feel that the music and moods are powerfully correlated. I have come to understand that it is music that makes small things memorable and meaningful. I wish there was music to commemorate my every small happiness and sadness, without me having to play it. As someone rightly said, I guess music does really feed the soul.
PS: Considering how low my current morale and motivational skills are, I badly need to hear "vetri kodi kattu" or "natchathira jannalil" ;) in short, I need an overdose of Namba Thalaivar, Namba Rajnikanth :P
