Songing Heart

The best music touches deep into our hearts. It keeps alive—and kicks—the sorrows and depressions of life. Sometimes it kicks a little too hard, but that's what friends and volume buttons are for.

I love blues music. Real blues songs—the kind that feels like a warm hug from a sad person. Sentimental and jazzy. Pure music: no hip-hop, no big bang, no sharp pop that hurts my aging ears. I am a simple guy who came from an "Aamo Chi lay" backdrop. That's village talk for "I used to chase chickens for fun."

But to be frank, some music didn't fascinate me. It sounded like two people talking over each other at a busy tea shop. Back in the 1990s, radio was the main source of music. I knew all the timings of radio shows—BBS, AIR, VOI, BBC, Shillong broadcast, and others. I had a mental schedule more accurate than a train timetable. Then, my brother gave me his tape recorder. That was life-changing. I started buying audio cassettes and listening until the batteries gave up—usually right in the middle of the best song. Elton John, Savage Garden, Ronan Keating—the list goes on.

I also love singing. I used to pick up my bass guitar and rock on the stage, most of the time unprepared. I vividly remember singing "Tears in Heaven" for my late brother, Sonam, as well as "If Tomorrow Never Comes" and others. But now, I sing in the toilet. Nobody would listen to a husky old voice these days.

It's ME, singing "If Tomorrow Never Comes." Tomorrow comes if you believe...

So I have listened to most English songs worth listening to. The Beatles—"Let It Be" is one of my favorites. The Eagles' "Love Will Keep Us Alive" (spoiler: it does, but tea helps too). George Michael's "Careless Whisper" (I still can't play the sax solo, but I try—in my head). Bryan Adams, The Police, Celine Dion (yes, I admit it), the Spice Girls (tell me you didn't zig-a-zig-ah), Mariah Carey (I can't hit those notes, but neither can anyone else), Stevie Wonder's "I Just Called to Say I Love You" (he called. I listened.), Josh Groban's "You Raise Me Up" (I feel raised, then immediately lowered when I try to sing along), Elton John, Savage Garden, Ronan Keating, the Backstreet Boys—I could go on, but you get the idea. I was musically fed.

I also love singing. I used to pick up my bass guitar and rock on stage—most of the time unprepared. That's called "confidence"—or poor planning. I vividly remember singing "Tears in Heaven" for my late brother, Sonam, and "If Tomorrow Never Comes" for... well, just in case.

But now? Now I sing in the toilet. Nobody wants to hear a husky old voice these days. The walls don't complain. The mirror doesn't judge. The toilet tank even provides a little reverb. It's my concert hall now—small, private, and well-ventilated. So yes, it's ME, singing "If Tomorrow Never Comes." Tomorrow comes if you believe. And if you don't, it comes anyway—just with more bills.

I remember the first album I bought was by Modern Talking. Their songs still keep me high and alive today. This German duo is my favorite. Don't laugh. They were kings of synthpop before you were born. Songs like "You Can Win If You Want," "You're My Heart, You're My Soul," "Cheri Cheri Lady," "Brother Louie," and "Give Me Peace of Love" still keep me mesmerized and humming—sometimes in the shower, sometimes in traffic, sometimes during staff meetings (silently, of course).

They are the best songs I have ever had in my life. The song "You Can Win If You Want" keeps me moving forward. Whenever life pushes me down, I hear that synth intro in my head and suddenly feel like I can conquer the world—or at least finish my grading. I think this song is a story about our lives: the journey we make where nobody knows the destination. Try listening to them. They are the best—though yes, a little bit synthpop, a little bit cheesy, a little bit 1980s haircut. But it's worthwhile and melodious. Their music teaches so many good things about life: empathy, love, care—and quite heart-rendering songs, as I call them (they render my heart useless for hours).

I often listen now and cry out, remembering my past days. The good ones. The bad ones. The ones where I had hair. Modern Talking still talks to me. And I answer—usually off-key, usually in the toilet, but always from the heart.

Modern Talking (google images)