Those were the days when time used to be spaced out into rectangular boxes of equal length - each a subject to be learnt, a skill to be acquired - as a tiny being clothed in crisp bright colours of institutional recommendation marched between school and home in determined little ballerina shoes. The streets never mattered, the footsteps did.
The orange pot of molten promises spread across the sky like a treasure as she pranced towards her music classes, twice a week, firmly holding her mother's hand, through the confusing little streets of the neighbourhood.
There, the music teacher - a lady in her early thirties, would sit on a small cot, surrounded by her pupils - all shapes and sizes. She went and joined the group as her mother waited outside with the other guardians. The music teacher would sing and lead them through a journey up and down the notes, accompanied by the harmonium. She would follow the notes with the others (many of whom were way older than this three year old), join in a melodious rendering of sargam and repeat the bol of the chhota khayals taught to them, as they were introduced to the Hindustani Classical gharana.
There was no compulsion to make sense. Of anything. The melody lingered on. Long after the classes were over. As she walked back home with her mother, she kept repeating the lines to herself - sometimes even singing aloud, blissfully oblivious of the passers by - who were sure amused by this chance entertainment, and at times, even stepped forward to express their feelings.
She felt no embarrassment. None at all. Her mind was engrossed in the web of these entangled notes which had joined together to give her a melody - a tune she could hum, a song she could sing. The dark streets - punctuated by occasional street lights - she knew, would lead her home.
And she knew things she didn't really know back then. Etched on the little mind, in silence, forever.
She knew that ups and downs create tunes you could hum. She knew meanings are meaningless. She knew she could sing her song, irrespective of people around. And she knew that dark streets too, can lead homewards.
