Posted in Musings

Out Of Sync

I am not the kind of person who needs music.

I like music, I do. And almost every genre too. I would find myself nodding my head to whatever the bus ride offered; start humming the moment I find myself close in the company of the faintest sliver of a song and take it from there, much to the annoyance of whoever happens to be in the room with me at the time.

But I don’t need music. I can go without it for any length of time. I seldom find myself searching for a song to listen to, I am too lazy to bring together my own curated playlists and I have long stopped downloading songs onto my mobile device after 4G internet and streaming became a reality. I have always been jealous of people who know what songs to play when, and somehow manage to keep themselves updated with all the best songs out there. I am more of the person who copies their playlists and then forgets to ever play them on my own.

Okay, I suppose this has been a really long prologue to the epiphany at hand. It was with the discovery of Spotify that I learned something else.

Music terrifies me.

My random choice of artists has even muddled up its algorism and has it throw at me songs from completely different genres, and every time a song changes, I can feel the emotional compass in me shifting as well. I go from happy to pensive with the change of a beat – I feel pain and a heaviness of the heart from a random indie number, I remember an old flame where a familiar songs plays out of the blue, and then feel my heart darken as some guitar strings quieten.

Prateek Kuhad’s Cold/ mess haunts me day and night, the lyrics falling off my lips and a heavy sigh leaping from my heaving chest into the evening loneliness. “Never ever associate songs with people”, warns a stranger in the comments section of the YouTube video, and I agree across avatars – every time I listen to Coldplay’s Scientist, my heart breaks just a little, over and over, remembering days covered in moss at the back of my mind.

Music terrifies me because it forces me out of my hardened fancy-free shell and makes me feel. Feel. A heaviness, a loneliness, an affection for ghosts of the looming past. and the depth of losses I choose to ignore.

Could this be why wise ones said silence is golden?


A wayward thinker hiding behind the facade of necessary courtesies

One thought on “Out Of Sync

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