Weak Notes.
My First Stage Performance
Being a shy kid, expressing myself was a dream. In every school group discussion, I would be the sad lonely child with a sunken face, sitting in a corner of the class, always refusing to open my mouth and speak my heart out. All that changed when I first understood the concept of singing. I then started screaming my lungs out to songs and dancing to them, with all sorts of weird facial expressions and movements. I would also play the air guitar like I was some Jimi Hendrix, strumming those fictitious strings, playing the toughest guitar solos with ease. It gave me a medium to express myself, no words needed. To channel this excess energy, my parents decided to send me to learn Indian Classical Music. For those who don’t know what it is, think of Jazz, but very, VERY Indian. I would then spend my weekends exploring the very depths of that musical form with my teacher. I would go into a flow, dedicating those few hours in the worship of the artform.
“Oh, I need to perform too?”
“Yes.”
“Before people?”
“Of course!”
I was told that I had to sing for people. Anxiety kicked in. Apparently, music is supposed to be sung in front of an audience. How stupid!
Fast forward to the day of the performance. I had practiced my bit rigorously. Dressed in neat Indian attire, I was at the venue, which was a small, well-lit cafe. I looked like a shriveled up snail trying to find comfort in its shell. I was shaking from head to toe, partly due to the air conditioning, and partly due to the intense fright of the stage, which was approximately 5 meters away from me.
“Why am I even here? Why am I trying to perform? I could’ve easily been at home sitting on the couch bingeing shows on Netflix! I chose to be here. I choose to come out of my shell!”
“As I went on the stage to perform, I looked at the audience, with a nervous smile. What they didn’t know was that I was trembling like a leaf. My hands and legs were shaking, involuntarily, like a ringing telephone. All the eyeballs were on me. Everyone was eager to see what the little kid had to say through his music. I closed my eyes and started to sing. My voice was shaky, and a bit parched at first. But I recovered soon, and when I picked myself up, I started to fly in a free flow, unwary of any audiences around me. Everything seemed easy. It seemed to me that I was in a dream state. And when I was done after hitting the last note perfectly, there was silence. I opened my eyes and saw people standing up one by one, all of them clapping in a well-synchronized applause.”
“But that happens only in movies!” I said to myself, exasperated with all the pressure that was mounting over me. All that was what I had thought out in my mind. Out of anxiety, I was playing the same event in my head multiple times, each time with a different happy ending. Sadly, all that was just my imagination.
I went up the stage, drenched in gallons-worth of sweat all over my body, feet trembling with fear. I looked at the crowd with a nervous smile. I saw my teacher smiling at me, mouthing a much needed “All the best!”, with a thumbs-up gesture. Other music-virtuosos were also sitting in the room, maestros even. I felt like a dwarf in midst of thousands of giants. As I sat down to sing, a drop of sweat trickled down my face and splashed on my hand. Cold. I was aware of the people staring at me, but at the same time, I was completely in my head. I closed my eyes and started singing, without any clue of what I was doing. My voice was shaky, and a bit parched at first. But I never recovered. It wasn’t a smooth ride at all. Instead, it was a ride on a typical Mumbai road, full of potholes and speed breakers. I made mistakes after mistakes out of fear, and that only made it worse. What dream state? What free flow? It wasn’t the performance that I had thought out a few minutes ago. Ironically, I was more conscious of the crowd looking at me, when it was supposed to be quite the opposite! It had all gone downhill, it was a tragedy. I imagined the exasperation and scoffing in the audience. Worse, they could be laughing at me! Embarrassment is the worst thing an introvert can be subjected to! I ended the performance in a hurry, quite abruptly, just like a speeding car, seating an inexperienced driver, coming to a sudden halt at a traffic signal.
But when I opened my eyes, I was in a bit of a shock. Elderly smiling faces were looking at me. The gaze, which bespoke experience, was of empathy. As if they all were collectively telling me, “We understand.” Maybe, I shouldn’t have antagonized the audience in my head. Maybe, I should’ve opened my eyes, taken it all in, and just enjoyed the experience of being able to convey my musical ideas to a fascinated crowd. Maybe, it was all about having fun out there.
By,
