Loss

Rhythm and music, sounds and sights have always dominated my growing up years. I was put in a music school when I was barely three, I would literally go there every day only to sleep, because every song would be like a lullaby to me. Grandma is a Carnatic classical vocalist. Even at 82 she has a voice that could send you in a deep trance. My mom is a walking talking juke box; forget dad he cannot sing, the reason why I hated nursery rhymes. (I could recite rhymes when I was one and a half year old ;))
In spite of starting my training that early I haven’t been able to learn all that I was supposed to. Blame it on my laidback attitude and lack of patience to learn the craft. Granma thought I could be a good singer, but I never gave myself a chance and it’s turned into a big repentance today.
My fate with classical dance form ended the same way. After spending 11 years matching my steps to the beats, I had to quit mid-way. Even today when I see someone perform on stage, tears roll down my eyes. It reminds me of my failure and how I would never wear that beautiful Saree and the gracious ornaments, how I would never have my palms smeared with Alta and tie those Ghungroos... or wait. May be its still not too late!