Singing songs of freedom

School assembly was always defined by the watchword for the week. Watchword was typically a theme that was selected by a particular class and for the entire week, the class would have to put up a 5 to 10 minute performance sort of thing based on the theme, so as to inspire everybody. The is could be a skit or a reading of quotes or a song, pretty much anything. Even the choir would pick songs that seemed as relevant as possible to the chosen theme. And since I studied in a convent, it was inevitable that the theme was heavily moral laden. 

When I was a young lass in Class 4 B, my class teacher was this wonderful woman called Ms. Hyacinth. (I always wondered why her parents named her after an invasive aquatic weed. Truth be told, I am yet to make sense of it). Nevertheless, she was this petite, short haired and superbly intelligent woman. She was also one of the first people who literally threw me to the sharks to face two of my fears - stage fright and singing in public.  

So it was 4 B's turn to do the watchword for the week and we chose the theme "Freedom". Ms. Hyacinth made sure that as many people as possible got to participate.  I don't recall auditions for these little performances that we had to put up; whether one had talent or not, it was important that everybody got a chance to participate. Some quoted famous sayings, while others wore kurtas and dhotis with neta caps and reenacted the Indian Freedom Struggle. I sang! 

And so arrived one of my finest stage performances. I was made to wear a brown shawl with a yellow beak made of chart paper. I had to move my hands up and down as if imitating the flapping wings of a bird, and walk back and forth on the stage. All this while I belted George Baker's Una Paloma Blanca. 

And for some reason today I remembered how I felt that day. As I started singing, my voice quavered. With each new line, my voice grew stronger and I grew more confident. I also distinctively remember trying to remembering to flap my wings every few seconds, so I would successfully pass off as a bird. It was also one of the first tunes I learnt to play on the piano, with melody and chords. To this day, every time I play it, I try to sing along.  

Everything about that day was perfect. Almost everything actually. The one thing we got wrong was the colour of the shawl - it should have been white for Una Paloma Blanca means "A White Dove" in Spanish. 

For my magic box...

a patch of green from my mother's garden
the moon when it's giving a thin sliver of a smile
the silhouette of a tree on a purple night sky
a giant swing on a lake front 
my still menagerie of animal figures 
chocolates - all sorts
a picture of us by the sea
enough music to last me seventeen decades
the cat and dog to whom i am 'most favourite human'
my bookshelf
a hammock 
brightly coloured flip flops 
my faded and worn out black t-shirt

these are some of the things I want to put away in a box... the box that I will take with me when I leave...  

I wait. .

to be in the company of friends
to throw myself into the arms of a loved one
to sleep on my bed
to sit in my rocking chair and watch as it rains outside my window
to turn all the lamps on and decipher what secrets their shadows cast on the wall
to drink coffee - black and sweet and strong - that will keep me hopping like a mad rabbit for 72 hours
to have loud nonsensical conversations with my menagerie of animal figures
to say hello to the strays every time I step out
to bake and let the aroma waft through the house
to eat rice, potato fry, dal and mango pickle for lunch
to dance like a banshee in every room there is
to live out of my cupboard or a pile of clothes on my bed rather than a suitcase
to pick up the newspaper from the carpet outside my door
to stay cooped up in my house all day long and still feel exultant
to draw up the blinds to let the light flood into my room
to savour the last piece of chocolate
to feel like myself again
I wait. . .

The Little Match Girl

Tanya had an unusual hobby; she collected matchboxes. She had matchboxes of all sizes and shapes, which she picked up from every city she travelled to, every bar she went to. She even asked her friends to keep a look out for unusual match boxes to add to her collection.

One day, she heaped them up in a big pile, and set fire to them. 

Duet

I am an extremely shy singer. The minute I have to sing in front of people, my voice gets really small. I rarely sing alone. In a group too, I make sure that my voice is not loud enough for people to notice it much. And horror of horrors, if someone says, "OMG! You're singing!", I shut up. 

But I love to sing. I was in the choir at school and took part in group competitions in college. Thanks to many years of convent education, I can belt out carols and 'God songs'. When I am alone, I sing loudly. I can afford to screw up when I am alone and I certainly am not judging myself. If anything I am practicing. I can also make up songs on the spur of the moment, about things that are happening right then. Here is a prime example of the aforesaid phenomenon. 

"My mother is sleeping and I'm so bored. 
I would like to marry an Italian toad.
Why am I doing this?
I don't know, give me a kiss.
'Tis such sweet rhyming,
With such impeccable timing."

Despite possessing such talent, it's all this modern day music scene that makes me clam up; where a friend picks up the guitar and another keeps beat and yet another sings like a god/goddess. I so badly want to sing along loudly (and secretly steal the singer's voice like Ursula, the Sea Witch from The Little Mermaid). I am however terrified that I will be judged  - my voice, the pitch and timing (which really sucks, like really!). So I continue to sing, so softly that I sometimes cannot hear myself. 

Right now, the DG is in town after a while. We've never really performed together. He plays the guitar like a mad man; he is very, very good. So good! I normally keep belting out rhymes and carols and Christian songs and spur of the moment numbers to bug him. The past 2 days, he's been letting me sing to his playing. And I've been singing loudly and liking it. 

Today's session included Green Day's Holiday (with the little speech that includes Gasbag and Eiffel Tower), Beat It and Come Together. While I honestly think my singing was not up to scratch, the man is so bloody encouraging. *full love* He recorded  some part of the session, secretly at first and I sound good. In parts. So I have now decided to sing louder. I will continue will my private practicing till some neighbour complains and asks me to shut up. But till then, I am going to sing my heart out, till I am not so shy anymore. 

He's out of town for 2 days. In the interim period, I plan to practice for better quality sessions and also learn to play something on the guitar. Right now the only things I can play are 2 chords - F and C, and a rendition of Prayer of Saint Francis. Till then, ta. You'll hear from me when I am musically more sound. 

Also a blog is such a brilliant place to brag about yourself and not feel like an idiot. Thank the Lord (from my convent school days) for small mercies! 

Chingum Menagerie

My latest assignment on the Venture Labs course on creativity was with chewing gum. We had to find an alternate use for chewing gum. It was certainly difficult for me to think from a new business point of view, so I applied a more creative aspect to it. In the process, I also figured that I am blessed with more creative skills than I credit myself with. 

I made a bunch of animal faces with various types of chewing gum. These I think will make for a lovely gift to an animal loving, sweet toothed friend or as illustrations for a picture book for children. I used them as "An ode to poetry in chewing gum" (mostly to Ogden Nash). 

The Dog 

The truth I do not stretch or shove

When I state that the dog is full of love. 

I've also found, by actual test,

A wet dog is the lovingest.

- by Ogden Nash

The Pig

The pig, if I am not mistaken, 

Supplies us sausage, ham and bacon, 

Let others say his heart is big-- 

I call it stupid of the pig. 

- by Ogden Nash

And here's the rest of my gum menagerie.  

The Rabbit

The Octopus/Spider

The Cat

The Fish

This was so, so, so much fun! I really had a ball. My favourites are the dog and the fish. I also tried making a snake and failed miserably, and I proceeded to eat it. :)

Just in case you want to try this out yourself, here's some info.

Things you'll need:

• Chewing gum in different colours and shapes. I used Big Babol (yes, it still is manufactured and it's still not yum ), Wrigley's Spearmint, Orbit and Mentos (not really gum, but certainly chewy)
• Thin tipped markers for drawing out features
• Rolling or cutting board to roll out the gum on
• Knife 

Word of advice, don't chew the gum before you work with it. While it becomes soft and pliable, it is extremely sticky and quite a task to scrape off your hands. It's also gross!

As right as rain

i love everything about the rain 
the smell of wet earth after a long, dry spell
how it dispels the heat
making one believe that such a respite is worth the long wait
the clouds before the rain 
grey and menacing 
staring angrily, as if to say just you wait
the flash of lightning
illuminating everything in its way
the accompanying sound of thunder
rumbling sometimes like it's been satiated after a heavy meal
at others like it's angry and mean 
and wants to pour out its wrath on its minions below
the pitter patter of the rain when it's just setting in 
or the loud constant splatter when it pours
the many leaves and twigs that it brings down with it
pulling them away from the trees as they cling on it for dear life
as if on their last limbs
the light shower on the face sitting next to a window
getting drenched completely while standing under it
waiting to soak it all under the skin
how it quietens everything else
but the roar of its din 

i love the rain
when it drizzles, thin blunt needles of water dropping on the skin
when it comes for a fleeting moment and gives hope
i love it most, when it pours
it shuts out everything else