A Tale of One Aim

It began at the age of four when my teacher, Mrs. Ireland noticed that I bend too much over books and copies to read and write. My parents were advised to have my eyes tested, and it was then told to us that I had an incurable genetic disorder called Retinitis Pigmentosa, which could lead me to total blindness.

My sight deteriorated fast. After failing in the half yearly exams of class seven, I had to leave my beloved school – La Martiniere Boys. That place is so dear to me even today, that I still feel a sweet pain for leaving it. I used to cry to get back to that school, and often had dreams of continuing to study there. I terribly missed my teachers, my friends, the atmosphere and the building.

Living at home was not so easy. I used to hide from my neighbors because everyone kept asking if I had decided to leave school and studies. I was filled with shame. If I was caught at home during the school hours, I made all kinds of pretexts. But even though I tried my best, my neighbors eventually got to know the truth. I was considered a liar, a spoilt chap, a bad influence, and an ignorant. I was strictly chastised that quitting studies was bad, but no one ever told me how I could study with low vision.

I felt so shamed for having left school that I started avoiding relatives and neighbours, and confined myself at home. When I was forced to meet a relative, I went in front of him with an artificial smile and empty confidence, all the while fearing that my ignorance and sightlessness could soon be caught.

Music enters my life

It was then that we discovered Mr. Tej Singh Tak, who was blind and taught vocal music at Bhatkhande Music Institute (Deemed University). We talked with him, and it was decided that I would learn singing. It wasn't that I was good at singing. I liked listening to songs, but making a career in that field seemed a horrible idea to me.

I started learning vocal music, though I kind of despised it. Mr. Tak indicated, and another blind teacher advised me with good intentions, that singing would be a difficult task for me. People tried to tell me that such a talent is God’s gift, and that I should try to learn instrumental music instead. But surprisingly, in spite of the negative vibes, I had started to enjoy singing. I made up my mind to practice and be a good singer.

In pravashika (the first class), I was the only one to pass with third division; some got the second division, but most students got the first.

At this time, I also started playing the harmonium and the Spanish guitar. Saving from money meant for buying clothes for Eid, I bought a tampura and practiced singing. My teachers started feeling that I was showing some improvement, and in prathama, I got the second division. For a few months, I learnt guitar from a teacher, and then started teaching it back to him. I was hugely intoxicated with light music, and made up my mind to become a playback singer. My aim was Bollywood.

Mr. Tak made me recognize the six Braille dots, and embossed English letters so that I could learn Braille. My private education went on, but I focused mainly on becoming a Bollywood singer. My first opportunity of singing on stage was at a marriage party. The orchestra director told me that my singing was horrific. Later, I participated in a singing competition held in Lucknow. That too was termed horrific, though much better than the previous performance.

My singing practice continued. My family members and neighbors were troubled by my practicing before sunrise. I kept changing my place of practice, but the complaints kept flowing. A boy once told me that as he was going out during the wee hours, he had heard my riaz and had run away with fright, thinking that someone had got murdered!

The sound of success

After a few months, I took part in another singing competition, and this time, I was selected for the final round. It was a huge achievement for me; the person who read my name from the list even mocked at my blindness, but I just patted him and jumped with joy. As I got on to the stage in the final round and sang the first line, the audience started clapping, which continued to cheer me throughout the song. I received a medal in that competition!

I participated in several singing competitions after that, and received prizes. My name started featuring in the newspapers. In madhyama, I scored 80 per cent in the practical, which were the highest in Bhatkhande. Mr. Tak was proud of me, and another teacher actually started sending students to me so that I could teach them singing.

Once, a neighbour of mine whom I call Baba since my childhood, asked me to sing at a function. I went with my guitar and karaoke cassette. I entered the auditorium, but had to come out because of the hall, because of the loud noise. Loud noise has always troubled me. Sometimes, I had to jab cotton pieces in my ears when I sang on stage.

Observing me step out of the auditorium, Baba got worried. He had spoken very highly of me to everyone. He thought that I was nervous about singing in front of the audience. I assured him, “Do not worry. The moment they announce my name, I will be on the stage. And I will certainly give my best performance.”

I sang on the music of karaoke cassette. Baba’s wife wept with joy to see the audience uncontrollably cheering. One of the directors of Lucknow Durdarshan (local TV station) told Baba that she wanted me to sing songs of sugam sangeet on television. I could not meet her and some others because I had left for home since I felt unwell. Excessive noise had again worked cruelly on my ears.

The Rise and the fall

People told my parents that I was an ‘out-of-control’ boy. I too felt that I was moving faster than I had expected, and that that day was not far when I would win a Filmfare Award for singing! I turned my attention to locating people who could help me release an audio album. Those days, I was so happy that my dream appeared to be unfolding into reality in a dreamlike manner! When you get the feeling of rushing towards success, the pressure of excitement and joy becomes really difficult to handle.

My father felt that I would destroy myself, so deep was I involved in reaching to my goal. I had bitter arguments with him several times, which I deeply regret now, but then, I had fancied that music for me was what water is to fish, or the soul is to the body. If you had ever seen the manner I argued with my father those days, you would have certainly hated me. He was only telling me to reduce the time I gave to singing, and devote more time to studies. But I did not realize that I had become selfish for my aim. If I had not been drunk in the passion of ‘success’, I would have certainly obeyed him for my own good. I had become a selfish and helpless slave to the passion for singing.

Before getting on the stage, I used to bombard my brain with all the negativity that I had faced. That was my way of bringing out the best in me. The overflowing enthusiasm and sullen pride triggered by this bombardment used to merge with the intoxication of music, making it a fantastic combination, making me feel like the ‘King of Kings’. Stage-fright only pepped up my adrenaline! I knew how difficult it is to make a single person clap on your singing ability – and here I was, with hundreds adoring my singing talent. I was able to make them dance; I was able to make them cry.

The cheers of the audience robbed me of my peace and bliss. I do not know when I actually slipped into the dark pool of arrogance. The seed of arrogance was sown, and a nasty plant had started to sprout. My friends tried to tell me about my arrogant ways, but I was beyond all that. I was rendered ignorant and blind not by Retinitis Pigmentosa, but by an inflamed ego.The deceptive feeling of being “the King of Kings” was like the effect of a dreadful drug.

The new bright change

Luckily, I managed to grasp the seriousness of the situation. I realized that I was hurting people who loved me, who cared for me. I had rebelled against my own father, who had nothing but the best intentions for me in his advice, and was arrogant to my sweet companions who truly wished me well.

I decided to quit singing, faster than what it takes for an eye to blink. It was a cold evening and the spring of my life when I was coming out of Bhatkhande, knowing well that I would never return to it. The setting of the sun seemed to raise fresh energy into my life. I knew nothing about my future, but I felt the tides of joy that one feels when he stops being susceptible to negative emotions.

A stream, when gushing forth from within a mountain, does not seem to know its path. It just knows that it will carve a path for itself.

Now, as the burden of ambition and the darkness of ego had vanished, everything was new and clear to me. I was sure that life had not stopped for me; rather, it was at the edge of a new, bright change. What that change was and what I will do was hidden by time. I had entered adulthood, but I enjoyed the bliss of childhood. I was free; my mind was clear, I could see the world with open eyes and I could feel that my heart wished to tell me something sweet.

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Shadab Husain, Lucknow, India, with a little editorial help from Ms Hema Vijay, Chennai, India.