Fluid Rigidity

April 27, 2009
By Damanpreet Pelia BRONZE, New Hyde Park, New York
Damanpreet Pelia BRONZE, New Hyde Park, New York
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Many writers have embarked upon creating a world of magic, a world in which our greatest and most unrealistic desires can come true, and where we can experience what cannot really be experienced. However, we have an underrated magic amidst us, one that is often overlooked and underappreciated, despite the wonders it can do, the balm it can provide us with, and the emotional stability (or instability) it can bring upon us.

I fully realized the magic of music, the carefully planned combination of sounds and instruments, late last summer. I had just returned from a family trip to India, discovering people I had grown to love, some of the best people in the world. For weeks, I had not been myself. I had been detached and indifferent to the world, not wanting to have anything to do with this world that I had called my own for such a long time. I had, after all, discovered a new world, one where I had been loved unconditionally, and I had loved back with equal intensity. I had discovered a new dimension to the concept of the family, and I was experiencing homesickness in my own home.

I was in a friend’s car, driving to the mall or somewhere, and there was Hindi music playing. I was in the phase I like to think of as “bouncing back to normal,” but I was still experiencing bouts of uncalled for emotion, a sudden urge to lock myself up into my room and listen to loud music from the nineties. The car felt familiar, as if I had traveled in it frequently before, although I knew I had never been in it before. Then, the familiar beginning of a popular Hindi song began to play, one that I personally disliked, and I automatically remembered.

The car changed, and I was driving on a farm-lined street in India, not a highway in the US. I had traveled in this car everyday for the past month, and I had heard this song probably just as frequently. The air conditioning was turned on to its highest level; we had decided to come to India at its hottest time in the year.

Together, the song and the car brought in me an upwelling of emotion, the sudden desire to go back. It was not the sadness I had been experiencing, but a sudden transport across the Atlantic Ocean, a visit back to the people I had been missing, the chance of a lifetime I had been coveting ever since I boarded the plane returning back “home.”

That day was the day I discovered music’s power to bring us to new levels, both emotionally, and depending at how you look at it, physically. I had always been a lover of music, but I did not fully appreciate its potential and value until that fateful car ride to the mall or somewhere, where by listening to a few seconds of a song, and by smelling the rich brown leather of the car seats again, I found tears in my eyes.

Through simply hearing a song, a song that I did not even particularly like, I was engaged and moved as I had never before been. That something like a song could affect me in such a way came to me as a surprise. It had had the ability to inspire me and to invoke in me hidden emotions.

Since then, the power of music, and the reasons it has the potential to possess such power in the first place, has baffled me. It is something that I experience everyday, yet I fail to fully understand it. One song can vary for each person, depending on the experiences ibe experienced with that song, the sufferings one survived with that song’s shoulder as your support. A happy song, which this one was, brought tears to my eyes, and I am sure that was not the composer’s original intention. But such is the fluidity of music, and with its fluidity comes its unflinching rigidity as a supporter through all difficulties we may encounter. With its chameleonic quality comes its relentless presence as the one that lends support in the darkest times.

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