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Life is a long, wondrous and continuous introduction to yourself.

The act of creation — it leads me to unknown places. Only to make me realize that all was known, always. And yet, I live every day with the hope that I’ll explore, create and grow into someone new. Because what’s life if not a long, wondrous and continuous introduction to yourself.

In this journey, music lives by my side. I find melody in my writing, and a lot of writing in my melodies. Sometimes, I hear songs in the bubbles of boiling tamarind water. Or in the stroke of red paint over the canvas. Or in the giggles of a child after a good joke. Tunes find their way even into my boredom, curiosity and the thoughts in between. And a rhythm taps into my sorrow, so it can take the leap to laughter.

Such is music. Such is life — yours and mine.

Hello!

Rest in pajamas

“Hey, can you drop me to the station?”

Your partner requests, out of need, out of wish and with an intention to spend a little time with you. You’re in your pajamas — you spend your mornings in them. It’s like they remind you of your purpose — to relax even when the world rushes.

“Of course!” You wake up from your restful state, grab your bag and hop into your car. You feel the need to go with the flow of someone else’s busy life, in your pajamas. “Oh, we are low on gas.” You’ve enough to drive up and you decide to refuel on your way back. You reach the train station, he kisses you good-day and as he walks out, you look for the nearest fuel-pump in the map.

After a mile-long drive, you end up in a long queue of cars to be washed. Only you seem to be there for gas. Worse, there’s no way to turn around. “I need to conserve the fuel.” So you pull aside, get out to speak to the cashier and learn that they’ve no gas anyway.

When you first saw the fuel level in your garage, your worry-meter turned on. At the car wash, it went a few notches up.

“Hey, there’s at least 10 miles of fuel in there.” You’ve got to relax, the next gas station is around the corner. And in under a minute, you make your way there. You stop your car in front of one of the pumps, relieved. You get out and pull your green bag out of the back seat — you need your wallet for the money.

“Oh no!” The wallet is at your desk, at home, you realize. Your worry-meter goes through the roof. You’ve got no money, you might run out of fuel and the worst of all, you’ve got no license to drive. It’s in the wallet too.

“How could you be so careless? Why wouldn’t you do a thorough check? What good are you to run a family if you can’t run simple errands? What if you NOW make a mistake on the road? What if a cop pulls you over? What if they arrest you? What if? What if?” Your conscience hounds your brain. You want to hide and cry. But first, you want to be safe. And there’s this U-turn where you’ll ensure just that.

There’s a fire engine at the distance, approaching. There are vehicles two lanes to the left, but further away from you than the fire truck. The engine turns on its indicator and switches to the right lane. “Great, he’s going to turn the other way.” You think it because you want to, and begin to about-turn toward your left. Albeit, at the speed of your doubt.

“Is the truck still moving?..” “The truck’s still moving…” “it’ll stop…maybe now...” “…Of course now….” “…now??” It never stops. The red truck comes at right angle to you, gets closer and closer, grows bigger and bigger, and sirens louder and louder.

“Relax. You’ll probably die now. In your pajamas.”

personal experience, Writing practiceKavita Srinivasanpersonal, incident, stress, driving, planning, routine, mornings