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As long as us humans have existed we have loved sound I guess. I can imagine our ancestors the cave-men, sitting besides a waterfall after their day's hunt, listening to the gurgling sounds of the water, bird-song and the rustling of leaves. Stones, sticks etc would have come next I imagine and thus slowly along with other discoveries and inventions, musical instruments would have come into being.
My little one and I love music to bits. All kinds. I sing. She plays three instruments (Violin, Flute and Coronet)- been learning them for an year now and is coaching herself on a fourth ( a Casio keyboard) at home. She sings too but does not like to sing in public. At all. I leave her to herself and let her work this out for herself. She will in due time.
Chatting with my mum as I drove her to her table-tennis club this morning, drew a nugget forth, which I will share.
My ammamma (maternal grand mum), was generally seen with a crochet needle and ball of thread in a bag stuck at her waist in her free time. A child bride she was, who came to my Nana's (Maternal grand pa) home in Kamptee, from Andhra and knew only Telugu at that point. It is a mystery as to when and how she taught herself Hindi so fluently as to read the Col: Ranjit's jasoosi upanyaas, (detective novels) which she had stuck under her arms as she ambled around the house amiably.
She played the Harmonium, Violin and sang.
As her children grew up, ten of them, she played harmonium while one of her daughters who took music lessons, sang. Somewhere along the path of life, her own singing took a back seat and disappeared.
We, her grandchildren, never got to hear her sing or play either of the instruments.
Love you Ammamma.
My little one and I love music to bits. All kinds. I sing. She plays three instruments (Violin, Flute and Coronet)- been learning them for an year now and is coaching herself on a fourth ( a Casio keyboard) at home. She sings too but does not like to sing in public. At all. I leave her to herself and let her work this out for herself. She will in due time.
Chatting with my mum as I drove her to her table-tennis club this morning, drew a nugget forth, which I will share.
My ammamma (maternal grand mum), was generally seen with a crochet needle and ball of thread in a bag stuck at her waist in her free time. A child bride she was, who came to my Nana's (Maternal grand pa) home in Kamptee, from Andhra and knew only Telugu at that point. It is a mystery as to when and how she taught herself Hindi so fluently as to read the Col: Ranjit's jasoosi upanyaas, (detective novels) which she had stuck under her arms as she ambled around the house amiably.
She played the Harmonium, Violin and sang.
As her children grew up, ten of them, she played harmonium while one of her daughters who took music lessons, sang. Somewhere along the path of life, her own singing took a back seat and disappeared.
We, her grandchildren, never got to hear her sing or play either of the instruments.
Love you Ammamma.
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