Lasya says.....
My grandfather, at 70 years old, sits with his legs crossed for hours with nothing but a pen and some paper, humming to himself and scribbling down each musical note. His mind can work within seconds to put notes in a specific scale to a specific rhythm, something only exclusive to a true artist. He looks up every now and then and throws a soft smile, “you’ll become a star with this,” he says. And I believe him, because he is my grandfather, and I admire him.
I was born into a family of vainikas, veena artists. Veena is an Indian classical string instrument that dates back to 200 BCE. I was always told that while some kids were born with silver spoons, I was born with a more valuable gift ― music. It is one of the longest activities I have pursued, for 14 years. I know that the moments I have spent and will continue to spend with my grandfather within the four walls of our “music room,” will forever open the doors on my journey to becoming a vainika myself. While I may become a computer scientist, I will also become a music teacher, training other children the same way my mother and grandpa trained me.
As my grandpa puts down his pen, I know it’s our “secret code” for me to pick up my veena. It’s funny isn’t it, how a common interest between two people can lead them to understand each other so well. As I rest the veena on my lap, memories of the first time I touched one come back. I was a hyper three-year-old, running around wildly in my basement. My mom, in an attempt to calm her frenzied child swept me into her lap, as she prepared for a concert. The way my mother’s fingers so graciously curled over the strings stuck to my mind. Her face, so calm and intent; the three-year-old me was in awe.
Music is the reason for my inquisitive way of thinking. With hundreds of possible outcomes from a given scale, it has taught me to always find multiple solutions. As I started to understand the math that goes behind Carnatic music, my mind was able to find countless ways of approaching any problem ― math or biology. In addition, music paved a road to many friendships. Meeting only once a year, it was a medium that we bonded over. From late night “jam” sessions in hotel rooms to charity concerts in temples, music was a safe haven for all of us; one in which we could all simply be ourselves.
Being an otherwise shy girl, music has made me open up. It is a universal language that I am comfortable speaking in. As my solo performances increased, and the amount of competitions increased, my confidence grew with each trophy. These small performances ultimately led me to completing my rangapravesam, a solo debut concert. When I sat up there, I knew that the next three hours were mine and that I would be able to connect with each of the audience members, regardless of how much knowledge they had. Music is something I possess and it comes with me everywhere. I know that whatever college I will soon call home will not be admitting one, but two students ― Lasya Josyula and her music.
At the end of the day, I look back at my journey so far and laugh a little. Yesterday, if someone told me to perform a ten-minute song, I would squirm and try to avoid it at any costs. Those were ten precious minutes out of my TV time! But, as I look back to my rangapravesam on that warm August night, I let out a soft chuckle. That night was not just my debut concert, but also my debut in this journey of coming closer to this tradition and my family. Even today, my grandpa, my mom and I simply look at each other each with a twinkle in our eye and nod, another one of our “secret codes” ― we did it.
My grandfather, at 70 years old, sits with his legs crossed for hours with nothing but a pen and some paper, humming to himself and scribbling down each musical note. His mind can work within seconds to put notes in a specific scale to a specific rhythm, something only exclusive to a true artist. He looks up every now and then and throws a soft smile, “you’ll become a star with this,” he says. And I believe him, because he is my grandfather, and I admire him.
I was born into a family of vainikas, veena artists. Veena is an Indian classical string instrument that dates back to 200 BCE. I was always told that while some kids were born with silver spoons, I was born with a more valuable gift ― music. It is one of the longest activities I have pursued, for 14 years. I know that the moments I have spent and will continue to spend with my grandfather within the four walls of our “music room,” will forever open the doors on my journey to becoming a vainika myself. While I may become a computer scientist, I will also become a music teacher, training other children the same way my mother and grandpa trained me.
As my grandpa puts down his pen, I know it’s our “secret code” for me to pick up my veena. It’s funny isn’t it, how a common interest between two people can lead them to understand each other so well. As I rest the veena on my lap, memories of the first time I touched one come back. I was a hyper three-year-old, running around wildly in my basement. My mom, in an attempt to calm her frenzied child swept me into her lap, as she prepared for a concert. The way my mother’s fingers so graciously curled over the strings stuck to my mind. Her face, so calm and intent; the three-year-old me was in awe.
Music is the reason for my inquisitive way of thinking. With hundreds of possible outcomes from a given scale, it has taught me to always find multiple solutions. As I started to understand the math that goes behind Carnatic music, my mind was able to find countless ways of approaching any problem ― math or biology. In addition, music paved a road to many friendships. Meeting only once a year, it was a medium that we bonded over. From late night “jam” sessions in hotel rooms to charity concerts in temples, music was a safe haven for all of us; one in which we could all simply be ourselves.
Being an otherwise shy girl, music has made me open up. It is a universal language that I am comfortable speaking in. As my solo performances increased, and the amount of competitions increased, my confidence grew with each trophy. These small performances ultimately led me to completing my rangapravesam, a solo debut concert. When I sat up there, I knew that the next three hours were mine and that I would be able to connect with each of the audience members, regardless of how much knowledge they had. Music is something I possess and it comes with me everywhere. I know that whatever college I will soon call home will not be admitting one, but two students ― Lasya Josyula and her music.
At the end of the day, I look back at my journey so far and laugh a little. Yesterday, if someone told me to perform a ten-minute song, I would squirm and try to avoid it at any costs. Those were ten precious minutes out of my TV time! But, as I look back to my rangapravesam on that warm August night, I let out a soft chuckle. That night was not just my debut concert, but also my debut in this journey of coming closer to this tradition and my family. Even today, my grandpa, my mom and I simply look at each other each with a twinkle in our eye and nod, another one of our “secret codes” ― we did it.
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