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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.


My 5 seconds of shame

It was the day before my wedding. There was an evening gathering of all friends and family. There was music, dance and everything that makes for a great pre-wedding party. It was all perfectly planned too. My sister and my uncle had put months of effort to make our wedding, a memorable one. The color of the fabric for the chair, the curtains, the size of the stage and to top it all, when my sister asked what I planned to wear for the party, I didn't know that blue & gold would become the theme for the evening.

The tailor couldn't deliver my dress on time and I saw the finished product the night before the wedding. There were some issues with it, mostly perceptive; such as the neckline was too low and the fitting was too tight and the skirt, even though technically long enough, appeared short. We got the neckline fixed overnight; I thought it was ready for the party.

It took a while to get ready and my makeup artiste took almost 2 hours to prepare my face. My partner and his family had arrived and everybody waited for the bride. As soon as my makeup woman gave me a go, I walked down my dressing room, straight to the hall. I looked at my partner first, he smiled and gave me an interesting look - it was the one of approval.

I turned to look at my dad and I read an untamed anger that was growing in him. I wasn't sure what he was thinking but as I tried to talk to another guest, my father stepped in.

“What the hell are you wearing?”

“Put that dupatta on you.”

I was shocked, speechless and then noticed that most of the family crowd appeared negative.

The only reason I had agreed to a traditional wedding was to keep my parents and family happy. And at that moment, they were the only ones who were upset.

That short skirt, tight blouse and that fixed neckline – as much as I don't care about appearances, a wardrobe malfunction failed me, when nothing else could.