I moved back to India 10 years ago. In ten years I’ve graduated from school, got myself a degree, worked two different jobs and started a career I thought I had no business starting. In 10 years, my family has grown so much, gone from strength to strength, and risen from the ashes of sorts.
You see, my childhood was filled with stories of silliness and wonder. No joke, also no drugs. My father always lived as if he had an empty page in his passport, and wherever he went, he took us along with him. His attitude and positivity was annoying. And I loved that. There were times the man would dress in a suit and tie and mingle with superstars and walk above them, and at other times, he’d chat with all the drivers who’d park their cars on the street as he shared some paani puri with them.
10 years ago, I lost my dad. I haven’t been too shy about saying so, but every part of my life has felt empty without him there. My brother lost his father too, my mother a husband, and my grandparents a son. Everybody lost somebody that day. I was 16 years old the day he passed, old enough to understand that tomorrow was never going to be the same. I can only speak for myself here but dealing with his loss was tough. Internalizing the pain seemed like a normal thing to do. I didn’t sit with a counsellor, or talk with anyone about it for a long time. I mean how do you explain to any one in a new school that you had to move to a new school, new city, and different country because of circumstances beyond your control?
Now I don’t mean to sound sad, I mean why else do I hide behind layers of humour and eat so much food HA HA HA. 10 years ago my family and I stood and the edge of a cliff looking down, and for the lack of a better phrase, 10 years later we made that cliff our bitch. My father was the kind of person that loved beginnings more than endings, and if his passing was anything to go by, it felt like the superhero origin story, and an opportunity to rise and grow to be the man that he always wanted me to be. As painful as it was, that beginning got me to speak through my music. I didn’t have the words to express the pain I’d experienced, and the only thing I had was my guitar.
My fathers penchant for telling us stories wore off on me, and I’ll be honest while I love telling stories, I am sometimes a terrible storyteller. In fact my friends made a drinking game out of my terrible story telling. I kind of found it easier to tell my stories through songs. How else was I going to explain I once dreamt of Mario playing other video games. I joke, but It’s exactly the kind of thing I loved writing about.
Years later the reasons for why I write my music has changed, the weight of the world makes a man age, like nothing else. No but, there has been plenty to stress over. I hate looking at the news, every story lacks hope, and I wonder about the future of our humanity. Social media is such pain in the ass, I mean CONGRATULATIONS YOU ATE A CAKE! Where are the stories we tell each other in person? Where is the sense of stupidity we remember when we sit around at our friends houses talking about our past? Where has our sense of compassion gone? Also why is every song about love! Since when did we become so predictable, or rather so unwilling to change?
There are so many things that make us human, from the way we grieve, to the way we eat our food. The silliness we faced when we were kids. That sense of innocence when I played cricket almost every day, or when my friend got hit square in the nuts with a cricket ball and the fielder came in running all the way from the boundary to laugh at him. Where did all those moments go? Is there anyone else there that looks back on their life and wonders when their childhood ended? Was there a particular moment, or was it just a regular day? When did you graduate from a world of astronauts to one of accountants?
Two years ago I sat in my bedroom recording a song about that very feeling. In a day, I’m going to share that visual story with you. My new music video for “Wild” releases on the 11th of April. I wrote the song as a search for my own innocence, and I have to thank my director Tanvi Gandhi and her amazing crew of creators, film makers, producers and artists. I’m thrilled with the effort they’ve put in, and I’m finally glad I can share it with you.
It can be hard to share some of these stories with you folks. I try to be genuine and honest about every experience, because I am what I am because of the interactions I’ve had. With each and every one of, I’ve share so many exciting things. Tomorrow it’s a music video, next week, an album (https://fanlink.to/TheLostCause). Thank you for joining me on this ride, and I hope you’ll ride the wave.
Let’s go find our lost cause.