I’m sure that when you hear of the term ‘Music’, you are reminded of its’ absolute presence

in your
life. You are bewildered by its’ sheer influence in the defining moments of your life. You reminisce at
the treasure trove of happy memories it has granted you, the overwhelming sadness it has helped
you conquer, the levity it aids you with. You realise the history of the art form, and the sheer
diversity it commands, be it style, substance or listenership. You also have heard far more talented
orators than I elucidating on the effects of music as a healing power, and I’m sure you understand
my apprehension at tackling this behemoth of a topic.

As you’ve seen my compatriots share with you before, there are a myriad of psychological, scientific,
and even holistic reasoning behind music being a healing power. But I personally have never been a
fan of simply stating facts expecting the audience to understand it completely, and I’m certain that I
cannot do a better job than those who came before me, so let me tell you a story. This is not the
story of a passionate music creator, or someone who even enjoys music as a leisure. This, is the story
of a boy, who couldn’t care less about it.

You see, this boy lacked any kind of strong character; a bland soul. Conversations with him were
hopelessly monotonous, and his interests were completely insipid. Predictably, the boy found no
place to fit in, to be at home, to be himself. He was lost, and frightened that he would find no place
in the world. He was toe – deep in the abyss of stagnation and mediocrity. The boy, realising this,
became deeply disgusted himself, and shrouded himself in a veil of deep self – loathing. He truly
regretted being this way, but had no clue how to better himself. He found solace in cheap,
meaningless gratifications and dopamine hits.

He felt incredible sorrow at this fact, and that sorrow gave way to anger. The boy was angry, both at
the world and himself. It almost felt as if life was just designed to pierce his fragile heart deep, and
drive him to the ground. He felt no drive, no passion, no reason to wake up in the morning. He was
simply going through the motions of existence, instead of living the true sense of the world. He
developed sociopathic tendencies. Eventually, he found himself drowning. Drowning in nihilism and
hate. An acute pointlessness permeated his every action. Music was just another thing that existing,
a droplet of an ocean in which he didn’t belong.

He felt the walls close in on him. While he wondered when it all would finally end, he came across a
peculiar poster. It was a poster for a classical music class. Mildly interested, he figured he would give
it a shot. He had nothing to lose anyway. Filled with trepidation, he started attending. What
happened next rocked his entire world.

He found himself completely immersed by the art form. Learning about the structure of music, its’
basic theory, its’ facets and quirks never ceased to tire him. He would sing, play, learn and repeat. He
wanted to comprehend its’ deepest secrets, uncover its’ entire history. He wanted to comprehend,
sing and play every known music style. RnB, Jazz, Carnatic, Rock n Roll, you name it. And he wanted
to excel at them. But most importantly, the childlike curiosity that never existed in him slowly
sputtered to life, and the overwhelming urge to simply know more consumed his entire being, and
he dedicated his every waking second into bettering his voice, his music knowledge.

His insecurities, his deep-rooted fears took a momentary back – seat as he simply focused on music.

And guess what, he was good. Really good. He found himself becoming a sharper, more aware
individual. His relentless practice of music instilled a sense of responsibility and duty, something he
never possessed until now. And people noticed. He was praised for his obvious talent, but his hard –
work in harnessing that talent. He found people who shared the same interest, the same passion as
his, and he found friends and teachers smitten with his off – brand, yet awkward charm. He found a
place where he fit in. He found home.

The suffocating air of self – deprecation around retreated, leaving behind dazed confusion. The boy,
wondering how everything fell into place for him, didn’t want to lose the valuable connections he’d
made, and passions he now harboured, decided on fixing himself. He slowly, broke out of his rut,
and became productive. He became interactive and assertive. He felt like a completely different
person, and he owed everything to music, the harbinger of positivity in his life. He owed music a
debt he could never fill, for it cleansed him of his sorrow, anger and loathing, and left in its’ wake a
rejuvenated soul brimming with the self – confidence to take on the world, and etch a place in it.

The boy in question here is none other than your’s truly, Aayush Anand of Kikani Vidhya Mandir, and
its’ been an absolute pleasure. Thank you very much!