I have lived my life through pictures and music, both of which I will find hard to share through words with you today, but I’m certainly going to try. This is something that isn’t unique to me, I’m sure. Nothing better than the rush of nostalgia from unexpectedly unearthing a bunch of old photographs or hearing a song from the nineties. Some bring back cherished warm memories, while others a deep feeling of dread especially with the wretched fashion faux pas gone by.
I moved to Mumbai about six months ago. That meant heaps of junk being sorted through from my Chennai apartment. I hold onto memories like they’re going out-of-fashion and I’ve got plenty of evidence of years gone by. In my flurry of cleaning and packing, I chanced upon a large blue striped box and a suspicious looking yellow folder. So I proceeded to sort through them all the grimy and exhausted recollections from the moving.
Much to my surprise, I found pictures from college and high school, and a couple of mix CDs I thought had been destroyed thanks to my carelessness. There I find much to my dismay, a photograph of me all of 18 with fuchsia pink hair thin as death itself with the worst punk rock tiger stripe pants with an evidently smug look on my face...Ewww!! How on earth did I ever think looking like a fashion zombie was cool! Things did not end here.
I decided to play the mix CD from the same dreaded era only to find that I wasn’t so off-the-mark with the music... :) I found an old song, called
My own summer
, I had completely forgotten about and a song from another band called Boy Hits Car — very loud, very fun. Just listening to the song brought back memories of eating mutton rolls after college, cutting class, hiding behind cars and trying to recreate the same in my first studio experience at audio engineering school.
So I decided it was time for a complete and total flashback. I found old CDs, pictures and to my delight some mixed tapes (oh so 1994!) I even found an old Sony Walkman to play them on. It was easily the best four hours wasted in the middle of a busy schedule. All the old memories now standing right in front of me — friends I hadn’t spoken to in ages, but with whom pictures still spoke of crazy times and close bonds, amazing concerts I’d been to, lots of pictures of food, 70 kilos Shruti in America and rail thin me in school, an old BSB song I shall not name that I loved ever so dearly, much to my embarrassment of course.
I was filled with such intense nostalgia that I even began looking at the horrendous choker pendants and pink hair with fondness, cringed with joy at the matching frocks my mom made me and my sister wear, laughed out loud and the first songs I tried to record. All in all, it was an amazing date with pictures and music, one I’ll never forget.