Christmas followed the victory of Congress in the Delhi Legislative assembly elections. The festive fervour had continued unabated for a month now. New Year was at arm’s length.
Preparations were in full swing to welcome the last year of the first millennium.
I keenly welcomed the New Year, the year that shall show me the third facet of my life.
The winter waned. It was spring. The flowers bloomed; the nature was at its colourful best. Scent filled the air. This time also passed.
Temperatures rose, indicating the beginning of summer season. Twelve weeks of the New Year had passed.
****
I was standing at the landing of two staircases. My parents, facing me, asked “Which direction do you wish to take?”
I had been presented with two choices: violin or mridangam.
I gained time.
It was the fourth day of the fourth month of the year. We were at the Delhi Tamil Sangam. It was a place to learn extracurricular vocations. Apart from that, many activities such as drama, theatre and live musical performances were staged regularly. Weekly, members got to watch Tamil movies, a rarity in the commercial theatres of Delhi. The classes for extracurricular activities were held anywhere in the building, where enough space was available.
My father broke the silence.
He repeated his question, indicating that we had to move left if I chose mridangam else we have to move right if violin was my choice.
I was thinking.
I was not even six years old that I had to take a tough decision in my life. It was to be a decision which shall forever affect my future. It was to be a decision that should have been accepted by destiny. It was to be a decision that must bear fruits, at a later stage, though. I was vexed.
Moments later, I stretched out my left hand. My fate was sealed. I would become an Mridangist. Emotions filled my mind. The road not taken. How would it have been? Why did I choose to stretch out my left hand, in spite of being right-handed? Fate certainly had a say in it.
As we climbed the stairs, my parents in approval of my decision, let me lead the way. We went into the green room, where that day’s class was going on.
We entered the room. Feeling slightly embarrassed, I clutched on to my mother’s sari.
It was a typical green room, mirrors covered the walls mostly, and where ever there weren’t mirrors, the wall was painted green. It contained a single washroom, and a store room. The room was large enough for a capacity of fifteen people to be there, at one time. Obviously, the washroom and the store room had been locked now, as there was no need of it.
The room looked a tad congested. Seven mridangists, (well they knew at least something to play, hence I call them so) were sitting in a semi circular position, with the, guru, as we referred him to, sitting in the middle.
We offered him the guru dakshina and he accepted it. My lessons had started.
He taught me the correct posture of sitting with the mridangam, and then came the first lesson of my life as an mridangist.... Thaa, Thee, Thom, Num.
After a while of playing mridangam, once I had got the feel of it, I felt elated, a feeling that cannot be expressed in words. I had become an Mridangist.
The newly born mridangist could not sleep that night. A feeling of happiness and uniqueness was always with me.
In the back of my mind, however, the thoughts continued. The road not taken…. how would it have been? Why did I not choose it? What game is the fate playing with me?
Deep inside me, I had a feeling of indecisiveness, a feeling that told me even before anything had begun, I had lost.