Friday, November 23, 2012

Rhythm Divine



Writing a post from the hostel of an IIM was only a dream for me. I had got into an IIM precisely 5 months back but still writing a post could not happen. Largely because I had started believing that my mind and heart had stopped reading between the lines.

Now, blessed with a broken foot and a week-long-complete-bedrest, I have what seems like an entire lifetime to myself. And surprisingly, my judgment of myself was wrong. I can still read between the lines.

Our college is a good 25 mins away from our hostel. And that day, as always we were in a rush to make it to the college bus, only to see that the last bus to leave was more than full. So we got the college van instead. It was one of those rare days for me when I travelled in van, having missed all the buses. And I had hardly interacted with many of the people with whom I was commuting.


As we started, first thing was to turn the music on. “Beete lamhe…” was the song that played. Expecting some local songs, we were happily surprised to find regular “our” songs playing and what ensued was a magical trance. Many of us sang along, while some chose to hum and the rest stared out the window.
It was then that I realized something. All of us came from different parts of the country, and so belonged to different cultures, had different childhood (and some adult too) experiences, motivations and yet aspired to achieve a common goal.

The music, on the outside, was the same to everyone. But to each one of us, it meant an entirely different world. However, the underlying emotion was same- love, belonging, passion.
I assumed, knowing whatever little I knew of them, that while one of them thought of their CAT scores and getting a better college, another one might probably be thinking of her ailing pet back home and how she won’t be able to see it anymore. While one thought of a handsome summer placement and the life ahead of him, another one relived the song thinking of his love.

And what was I thinking? I was only too mesmerized and occupied with this thought to think of anything else.
It is amazing how one simple thing as music means so differently to different people. And because of this, it stops being simple.