After three days, my teacher sent one of his students to teach me. He would just take the Carnatic music book and tell me which fingers to use. Then I had to play and figure out the melody. This was the extent of the teaching. The student himself started complaining about the methods the teacher employed. So, forthwith, I stopped learning from this guy. My musical journey met with a speed-breaking stutter.

After a few days, I managed to find another teacher. He was good. Most of my rudiments of Western music—like scales, basic chords, time signatures, notations, and so on—came from him. At some point, I could read the notations fairly quickly and play. Learning theory and practicing songs was the way we were moving forward. In between, my visit to the USA caused a pause in these classes. The teacher often remarked that I was the oldest among his students and the most devoted, and he would frequently say that dedicated students were hard to find. Yet, after about three months, he suddenly stopped coming, and my dreams were shattered. I couldn’t help but wonder—teachers talk about finding dedicated students, but where do students find dedicated teachers?

During this period, my son got me beginner’s software, with which I tried to “compose” a couple of pieces. Almost daily, I would replay them and marvel at the melodic beauties I believed I had created. They were my creations, after all; they had to be the best.

And then, this too stopped. I continued playing some of the movie songs I had managed to learn, getting notes online for more songs and trying to play them. From 2003 to 2016, time sped by without any addition to my musical knowledge.

By this time, I owned an iPad, and GarageBand was one of the top musical apps. I promptly bought it without knowing how to use it. In 2016, we were visiting a niece of ours in Boston. Her daughter was a trained singer with a fair bit of musical knowledge. Like most modern-day youngsters, she had a delightful ease with apps. While trying to learn bits and pieces about music from her, the topic of GarageBand came up. Lucky for me, she knew how to use it. After lunch, I urged her to share her knowledge of the app. Perhaps she thought music was, if not my second, at least my distant nature. Her suggestion was, “Let’s compose a song.” What? She asked me to come up with a melody.

Just like in the vintage era when we used a lever to start cars, she played some piano music to lead up to the start of the melody. Some angel must have gotten into me—I hummed a tune. “Now come up with lyrics,” was her command. Oh God! Where was this leading? Nothing in my knowledge or wisdom bank could come to my rescue for this task. But remember, the angel was still inside me. I came up with something that sounded like lyrics. Building on this weak foundation, I managed to come up with eight lines of melody and lyrics, nearly 32 bars. Was this real? She sang the lines with utmost gusto and modulation, really elevating those basic lines. Then, with our heads together, we managed to create a rhythm pattern and add some instrumental backing. Without knowing anything about composing, we had created a song. We patted each other’s backs in mutual admiration. Frankly, the melody wasn’t bad and was eminently hummable, though whether it had all the elements of a true composition, we did not know.

But the pleasure, joy, and happiness this endeavor brought us were immeasurable and will last forever.

And how far did I go?

To be continued... 53 - Part 9.