I often ponder the roots of my affinity for public speaking and my lack of shyness when facing an audience.
My earliest memories stretch back to when I was just three years old. In our home, old Sony audio cassettes were scattered about, preserving recordings of my youthful performances. These relics from the past, dating back to around 1980, captured me singing school songs or belting out Bollywood tunes. I distinctly recall a special performance by my school class for All India Radio, an event my parents eagerly documented. Since then, it seems I’ve been a fixture in school choirs, regardless of which educational institution I found myself in.
My father played music all the time in the house, and I adored immersing myself in that music and loved to dance, much to the delight of my parents, who revelled in showcasing my talents to all who visited. Whenever guests arrived, the familiar refrain of “beta, kuch suna do” or “beta, dance karke dikha do” would echo throughout the house. It seemed I couldn’t resist the urge to perform, whether it was in the cramped compartments of trains, the comfort of our drawing room, or the homes of friends and relatives. Even at the tender ages of three, four, or five, I basked in the adoration, relishing every compliment and ounce of attention. It’s no wonder that even now, I still have a penchant for being in the limelight.
At school, my father ‘gently’ nudged me towards public speaking, encouraging my participation in elocution contests. It was in these formative years that my knack for addressing audiences blossomed.
Creativity ran deep in our family’s veins, with music, dance, art, and poetry woven into our lineage across generations.
My Nanaji’s poetic prowess earned him recognition alongside luminaries like Sri Harivanshrai Bachchan. The Bachchans were frequent visitors to my Nana Nani’s home in Bareilly, although these visits occurred long before my time. Nonetheless, my mother regaled me with stories of an upbringing steeped in poetry and literary gatherings. Our ancestral home often played host to extended stays by renowned poets, where evenings were punctuated by soul-stirring sher-o-shayari and heartfelt recitations. I grew up with these stories.
My Dadaji, was an Urdu scholar, and as a result, my father developed a proficiency in speaking clear Urdu. This exposure also enriched my Hindi speaking skills and enabled me to comprehend Urdu words. Understanding the subtle nuances between sounds like “pha” and “fa,” I find myself cringing when watching Hindi movies or television series where such distinctions are overlooked, leading to poor pronunciation.
My grandparents, both Dadaji and Nanaji, as well as my father, have authored and published literary works. Perhaps it’s from them that I inherited this passion for writing. For years, I’ve harboured the desire to pen a book, although I’ve been uncertain about its nature or content. The thought of where to start and what to do has often left me in a state of perplexity. Then, one day, consumed by rage over something completely unrelated, I impulsively wrote a blog post about a garden in our bungalow in Bankura adorned with poppy flowers and full of wonder. These are all part of my precious childhood memories. This marked the beginning of my journey into writing, where I began to share reflections from my childhood and other significant aspects of my life. Who knows, perhaps one day I’ll find myself completing that book I’ve always dreamed of?
It’s a well-established fact: my writing prowess far surpasses my verbal dexterity. When I write, there’s a certain finesse – I pause, ponder, and then eloquently craft my words. It’s my version of tact at its finest. Speaking, however, is a different story. Let’s just say, my tongue has a knack for steering me into the realm of tactlessness. It’s a talent, really – one that’s been honed on many an occasion.
Recently, I had the honour of curating and hosting a book release event at the esteemed Raj Bhavan. The book, penned by my father, was officially unveiled by His Excellency the Governor. From crafting the entire script to meticulously coordinating behind the scenes, I was fully immersed in the preparation process. As I took to the stage, a surprising wave of ease washed over me – no nerves, just pure confidence. It felt as though I belonged there, commanding the spotlight effortlessly. This newfound comfort prompted me to reflect on the roots of my confidence, tracing it back to my early years when my parents lovingly nudged me to perform for anyone and everyone. It seems their encouragement laid the foundation for the poised presenter I’ve become.
During my early years, I dabbled in music, although I must confess, I often found myself fleeing at the sight of the music teacher, much to my own amusement. Dance, on the other hand, was a different story. During my time in Hyderabad, I embarked on a five-year journey into the world of Kuchipudi. Despite my initial apprehensions, the camaraderie among my fellow dance mates made each session a joyous affair. Performing on stage was exhilarating, during the classical dance performance ofcourse. But especially memorable was my solo performance of “Mere haathon mein nau nau chudiyaan hain” at NPA in 1988, when the auditorium was filled with probationers, officers, and families alike. Fast forward to last year, when I reunited with that same batch, who fondly recalled the performance, much to my chagrin and delight. Ah, the sweet embarrassment of youthful exuberance!
You know, there are certain traits that people associate with individuals, and these are the ones that stick in their memories. Music, dance – they serve as channels of communication, leaving lasting impressions on others. I’ve always prided myself on being a strong communicator, adept at connecting with people on various levels. Sometimes, I ponder over the origins of this skill. Perhaps it’s ingrained in my DNA, passed down through generations of sociable individuals in my family. Growing up in a bustling household, surrounded by music, laughter, and constant interaction, it’s no wonder that I’ve developed such ease in social settings.
I vividly recall when I first moved to Mumbai after marriage – amidst the chaos of setting up my new home, I couldn’t help but reflect on one undeniable truth: I may know somethings, I may not know some things, but I sure know how to throw a memorable party!
“Amidst the melodies of life, we find our rhythm, connecting through music and dance, leaving indelible marks on the canvas of memory.”- Maya Angelou
