My much deserved state of somnolence was rudely disturbed by the screaming and shouting of one of the fourteen people in the compartment. I thought someone had fallen off, and I woke up with a start, only to notice that this was how they woke each other up.

I wish to dear God that I had a shotgun that time. I’d have done a Kurt Cobain on myself.

I figured that I’d wait it out until they were done waking each other up so that noise levels would reduce, and I could go back to sleep, but they spoke so loudly that, were they in Necropolis, it would cease to remain so, with the dead waking up thanks to their irritatingly loud decibel levels.

I was, obviously thinking of savouring this experience so I could blog about it later, but I was soon getting to be at my wit’s end.

The train was late, and these fat ovesttuffed ladies and their uncontrollable children and teenagers were wreaking havoc, and even the loudest music on my ipod couldn’t drown them out.

There was no way I could go back to sleep even if I were injected with morphine, and so I stepped down from my lofty berth.

The side-upper berth was allocated to me since I was a waitlisted traveller, and those are the crappiest berths available on trains. They are so claustrophobic that they’d make the individual capsule in Japanese hotels look like rooms in the Leela Palace Hotel.

However, once I stepped down to sit at one of those window seats that I was rightfully supposed to sit at, five of those kids came and sat there, a couple of them barely old enough to read trying to flip through my book and being playful when I wasn’t in the best of moods.

A couple of those kids who were in their early teens were so fat that I thought twice before giving them dirty looks, lest they decided to punch me, in which case I’d have had a broken jaw in the very least.

I finally sought refuge at the doorway, where I could stand and view the ever changing landscape as the wind blew into my already unkempt hair, with music playing in my ears, and I was at peace temporarily.

Further attempts to go back up and sleep on the berth were futile, and I think that we need to torture prisoners using the sleep deprivation technique by putting them up with huge Marwadi families travelling on trains.

It was now that the train stopped at Guntakal, and I was still sleepless and getting more irritable by the minute, which was when I was inspired to come up with the title for this series of posts.

As the family finished breakfast and settled down, I thought it was over and I could read / sleep / sit silently and contemplate the passing scenery in peace while listening to music, but alas, my reverie was disturbed by the loud noises of eunuchs clapping.

As soon as they saw me, they knew instinctively that I was an easy target, and they hounded me for money. I was glad to partake with small change, but as the three of them present chose to gang up on me, I had no option but to shout and make a run for it in the compartment, shouting out loudly that I was a student and that I *actually* had no monies.

But eunuchs with crazy eyes who want money from ipod toting, shorts wearing, decent looking gentlemen would hardly care, and I think I escaped a near death traumatic experience thanks to my wailing like a banshee to get away from them. Such joy.

It was two hours past the time of arrival when the train arrived finally in Mysore, and I was thankful to have gotten back to where I once belonged.

I wish this had a more melodramatic ending, but life isn’t always a chick-flick, you see.

The same was the case in a few shopping centers and affordable (cheap) restaurants which aren’t up-market per se, but would like to try and get an ersatz air of pretentiousness about them, which they feel might attract a few more clients.

It was at one such place that I caught myself singing word-to-word a song that was massively popular in the mid 90s. And no, I’ll not quit playing games, and I intend to keep you in the dark regarding what song that was.

But listening to that music brought back a flood of memories that got me thinking about how we tend to evolve as the years go by, and how drastically our musical tastes are altered and shaped by our exposure to new genres, our environment and life in general.

I had a strong pop music phase when I was in school, and had tapes such as Now That’s What I Call Music (Volumes 1, 2 and 3) and Channel [V] Ultimate Dance Collection and such. Those tapes are now as good as useless, and when I tried playing them a few days ago in some tape recorder, which I was able to locate with much difficulty, the songs were running at about 80% their speed and were quite funny to listen to, until I got bored and gave up.

If you’ve not had a phase where you’ve listened to Pop music, at least to start off with, you have issues. You’re probably languishing in jail and your name is Charles Manson.

Contemporary pop slowly paved the way for more music, and as the parents found out that their son’s interests lay beyond his text books and his other reading material, they indulgently gave me access to their music collection, which comprised of a few rare tapes of Santana, the Ventures, The Beatles and a few other oldies which I now know are timeless, and would be worth introducing at the right time to my own children in the future.

In the mid-teens and later, as the rat race became more and more pronounced, and the need to do well in the 10th and 12th boards to secure a good education became strongly evident, the angst and the pressure built up led to a slow but sure shift from the optimistic and uncomplicated hues of pop towards music that was slightly more aggressive and complicated in nature.

Classic rock and metal was the way to go, as bands like The Who, Led Zeppelin, The Doors, The Rolling Stones and Pink Floyd soon became staple music, and a false air of superiority was then acquired, and it was at this time that the whole black t-shirt phase made its presence felt.

The parents were, quite understandably a little worried about the sudden increase in length of hair, the constant singing of the ‘teenage wasteland’ bit from The Who’s ‘Baba O’Riley’ and a slight hint of negativity that crept in as a result of exposure to this music.

Simultaneously, satellite TV played a crucial role in providing me exposure to contemporary artists, and I discovered the alternative genre, which forms a huge part of my play list till date. I must count my blessings for having had a chance to expand my musical sensibilities during a time when Channel [V] and MTV weren’t showing the nonsense they’re currently dishing out. Incidentally, do you have any clue as to who got eliminated this week on Roadies?

Yes, I did have a Kurt Cobain phase as well, where I hated myself and I wanted to die. It involved a case of a premature heart break and a feeling of being hopelessly lost in space and time, and Nirvana’s songs seemed to give some meaning to life back then, although when I listen to the band now, I can’t understand half of the lyrics. I think it is an age window during which time you need to appreciate bands like Nirvana and then grow up.

Metal made its presence felt in my life with my first ever listen of Iron Maiden’s ‘Live After Death’, and I was hooked thereafter. The standard issue metal bands then became a regular part of my musical diet, and my parents were left wondering when their son’s head would snap and roll off after extensive head-banging sessions. Thankfully, no such thing has happened till date. The type of music being listened to became heavier and heavier, and it hasn’t lost steam even now.

An increase in exposure to the different types of music has led to broadening of my musical horizons and sensibilities, and off-late, I’ve discovered new and interesting genres and sub-genres such as post-rock, piano-rock, alt-pop, emo-rock, folk-rock and also faced a revival of pop music appreciation, thanks largely due to how hot Nicole Scherzinger and the other Pussy Cat Dolls are in their videos. I still can’t name more than two songs of theirs, but hey, I’m a big fan nonetheless.

Over time, I have seen people who seem to think they know a lot about music ridiculing those that they think don’t have corresponding tastes and sensibilities, ‘poseur’, I believe is the word they use for such people, who pretend to like some forms of music just because it is cool to do so.

I have been guilty of being prejudiced myself on previous occasions, but as time has gone by, I’ve come to realize that I am better off doing my own thing and being at peace with myself musically, rather than evaluate someone else’s musical tastes and being judgmental about it. If people are indeed ‘poseurs’, then they’re not worth the time and the effort to ridicule and they’re better off left to their own devices.

Having said that, I’d like you to please excuse me, as I go ahead and complete listening to the (relatively) new ‘Take That’ album. Cheers!

Does anyone else’s mind conjure up the following words when itunes accidentally playes songs like ‘lithium’ and ‘drain you’ after eons – ‘WHAT THE FISHSTICKS WERE YOU THINKING?’.

Gone are the days when Paul McCartney or Jimi Hendrix had to play right handed guitars upside down, and now all major music instrument-makers have lefty guitars. I don’t know when this came about, but I think it is a pretty cool thing by itself. I am quite sure Kurt Cobain never had to face such issues.

It does look quite awkward for a left-handed person playing a right-handed guitar or vice-versa, considering all the strings have to be removed and strung back in reverse order, not to mention the tuning pegs also being placed inconveniently and out of reach in these circumstances.

Here’s hoping I pick up a good instrument soon.