The Only Truth is Music
I wore my black earbuds, turned on the Bluetooth on my phone, and played Anoushka Shankar; one of my favorite musicians of all time.
I was on my way to meet a friend for coffee when my phone beeped. It was a message on my WeChat app: “Hey you! Any plans this weekend?” she wrote. Six months ago, I went out on a few dates with this girl. The last date ended at a Chinese heavy metal concert, a genre I hate, but I did it for her because I liked her, either that or I wanted her to like me. Anyways, it was a disaster. I closed my WeChat app and restarted Anoushka Shankar’s song.
When I got to the café, I saw my friend wearing his headphones. “What are you listening to?” I pulled the chair out. “Just a podcast,” he took his headphones off, “couldn’t stand the music they are playing here,” he said. I listened, and nodded, “let’s get out of here,” I pushed the chair back in. “Good idea,” my friend said, and we walked out of there.
My friend is a Dutch music composer. On our walk to the next café, I told him about my idea to produce a new track that would merge classical Indian music/ragas with contemporary electronic music. He loved the idea, and we brainstormed a few ways it could be incorporated into my upcoming project about identity.
When we got to the next café, I opened my WeChat app to pay and saw there were two new friend requests (both from these girls I had deleted a while ago.) “What the hell is going on?” I looked at my friend and showed him my phone, “why all of sudden, all these girls from my past are now messaging me?”
“Oh,” my friend pointed at the front window of the café. HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY, the poster read. “That can’t be it,” I said. “It’s all about the timing dude, think about it,” my friend laughed, “just enjoy it. But don’t go on another heavy metal concert date.”
He was right. Why do I always do that? I thought. Six months ago, when the girl I was dating at the time told me how much she loved heavy metal and that she wanted to be with someone who loved that too, I lied, instead of telling her that I loved Worldbeat; a genre that fuses traditional/folk/ethnic world music with contemporary electronic music. During the heavy metal concert, I pretended I had to pee, at least five times. Those five to ten minute breaks were the best part of the night. Why do I do that? Why do I suffer to make other people like me? Why couldn’t I just be honest about who I am? Maybe because in the past, most of the time when I was honest, everyone left. And I got lonely.
Music says a lot about the person, what they like, why they like it, what moves them, what connects them to the world. Music is a language that speaks to the soul. When I’m listening to Anoushka Shankar play her sitar, I get lost in another world. Something inside of me wakes up and dances, it lifts me up, it makes me feel like I’m part of something bigger. It shows me who I really am. I’m not where I was born, where I grew up, where I went to school, or where I am now. I’m more than that. But regardless of where I am, there’s only a certain kind of music that gives me that bliss, that connectedness to the universe, that feeling of flow.
“Guess what?” my friend looked at his phone. “What? Did you get a message from your ex also?” I laughed. “No, I’m googling Anoushka Shankar,” he smiled. “Isn’t she gorgeous?” I said. “And…” my friend winked at me, “she’s also single.”
