Why worry

When there is much to worry about, I end up thinking about all of it so much that there is little room left to accommodate actions. I remember the last months at work. There was a project to wrap up and another to hand over to the able juniors. There were three universities to extract an admission from, and there was an answer to seek… it was not forty-two. I used to come back home late in the night. Home, the 11x12 penthouse room in Koramangala that I had tastefully left undecorated in spite of Am wanting me to buy some nice drapes and sheets. Who was it going to please anyways? Home, where I spent the last 6 months in Bangalore living alone, constantly tolerating my nagging landlord, Mr. Shetty, and worrying about if to hold on to the cubbyhole or just move out.

It was one such night, which was happier than others, when I composed Basant. It had vigor, optimism, even playful romance hidden in the lyrics… I had made sure to use only short words, no more than 2 syllables. Words flowed into each other in the way old hindi “Chhands” we learnt at school do. I did worry about the song too when Jay, Ar and I were polishing the tune to make it more Avadhi than Carnatic. However, the difference was that action followed the concern. We managed to create a hit.

Cut to now… there is term 4 to take care of to begin with. With several ‘Border B’s’ in my portfolio of grades, I no more used to believe I can make it to the list. I said to myself - this term is the term when I get over that childish craze to do well in exams. Then friends egged me on. I don’t know if it makes sense to prioritize that over the more important ELP project, the couple of B-school comps, the music that I seriously want to make an honest attempt at. So, I worry, but then I don’t do much else.