Life beyond Posters
When I enter my room, I am...
Accelerating particles with curiosity
Probing Atmospheres with determination,
Watching the evolving universe’s strength
And sustaining chaotic achievements with creativity.
Not all chemists wear white coats
Not all mediocre drummers play the guitars,
Proclaiming live on national radio ‘I want to be an Astrophysicist’
Today, I am producing to my own radio show. I am an RJ. I am a dreamer.
Sitting on my chair and as the radio plays on, I recall a fantastic adventure...
I knew how to play the drums but that was millions of seconds ago. But when an opportunity came to be associated with the class band, I unconvincingly volunteered. Although I was better known for reading discrete science fiction novels and getting carried away by my mindless science projects; I had a soft corner for music.
Enter- The school auditorium. We are on centre stage. Everything is perfect; the guitars, lead vocals and myself at the drums scanning the audience. The built up was immense as a great performance preceded us. Ten minutes later and two songs after there was a standing ovation. We were a great success in combining chaotic beats with melody vocals. One of our guitarists turned off his instrument to avoid further embarrassment which was a worse parody than lip syncing. Our on stage disaster was welcomed with laugher and I in particular was jeered for my humdrum performance on the drums. It was soon before I discovered my new love – Guitars which sparked the beginning of a remarkable journey.
The School Notice Board –‘Students are hereby notified that the school will be collaborating with Classic FM in an attempt to provide students with an opportunity to showcase their talents...’Without reading the whole script and the page long terms and conditions, I was already on radio- playing guitars, singing and talking about my ambitions. Slowly my excitement faded and I felt my heart pump blood into vacuum. “It can’t be.” I shrieked.
Yours Sincerely,
Mr. ABC
Program Co-ordinator
Prejudice and Hatred were the few words; Impossible was the third.
Every week I heard my peers covering a famous band’s song and having chitchat about their lives, dreams and goals. Meanwhile, I was having a difficult time learning guitars- only a few major chords powered by the often dejected pleas to Mr. ABC. “Next Week Sumit, sure cent percent sure!” followed by “I am sorry Sumit Mr/Ms. Xyz is going this week so probably next week.” After infinite ‘next weeks’ came the final week of our school year.
In between these ‘next weeks’, I was re-discovering myself, exploring my interests and taking on new pursuits. At cold winter, starry nights, I integrated my passions in a serene setting where I would be in my own universe sighting stars and discovering new worlds. There, I infused my music with the cosmos. Finally, I had managed to gain some control over my rhythm guitars and even perfected my composed song. Soon the impossible seemed possible but it came along with terms and conditions.
Mr. ABC had a quiet word with me at the library where I was revising my notes for my science test the next day. I was informed that I was to be on radio on the eve of my final examinations. Moreover, he was not amused when he learnt that I had prepared a self composed song and had a difficult time explaining physics and astronomy combined. Nevertheless, I was to have my thirty minutes of fame and was not surprised at the irony that I would be practicing all day long while others would be studying for their exams.
However, my road to radio was a rodeo ride to remember. Having got my moment and wanting to make an impression, I dedicated my entire time for practicing. But the adrenaline rush got the better of my nasal nerves. Three hours prior to my rendezvous with the radio microphone, my lower face was engulfed in a stream of blood. In panic, I dropped my guitars, took off my sweater, covered my nose and rushed to the infirmary praying for the flow to cease. An hour later bloodstained, incredulously mended and tired, I made my way towards the teachers’ room. An infuriated Mr. ABC welcomed me, uninformed about my sudden disappearance from the practice room.
At dusk, we arrived at the radio station. As soon as I saw the blink of the radio tower in sync with Venus above, I knew that it would be a memorable evening. Every word I spoke was superimposed with my excitement as the invisible airwaves carried my voice to everyone who was listening. My original composition made a national debut and I had my moments of thrill. In the end, I thanked Mr. ABC.
“I am your host Sumit signing off for today; do tune in next week for more music.” Back to reality and at the present scene, I have just concluded my show on radio and am feeling ecstatic-in the same frequency and amplitude when I took my first steps towards the recording room. As I turn around a few degrees, I catch a glimpse of my existence in every corner of the room. The posters in my room represent me as an individual. They are my gondolas for inspiration in which I time travel to my past, live in my present and ascertain my future (to some extent). I am always intertwined by their unique permutations and combinations. As....
I am the curious cat in control of my creativity
As a graffiti artist, I paint my aspirations
Only to be dejected by some rejected science projects.
I am the swimmer gliding ahead with determination,
Sometimes drowning but always learning.
I don’t participate to win but to experience
And savour in making new connections,
I am the determined spider; the achieving athlete
Sometimes winning and other times losing but always trying,
All in all, I was Sumit and I aimed to be an Astrophysicist.
