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THE FIRST THREE NOTES JUST HAPPEN TO BE
I grew up in the suburbs of Detroit, the only child of immigrants from India. My parents hail from Bangalore in the small southern state of Karnataka. By the time I was 17 years old, I had made five trips to India. Looking back I am thankful for the exotic experiences, but at the time I would’ve rather gone to Disneyworld or Cedar Point (an Ohio amusement park) like the rest of my friends.
My dad saw my trips to India as an ideal way to indoctrinate me in the Indian culture. He was worried about me becoming too “American”, watching the Brady Bunch, wearing shorts and fantasizing about Rick Springfield. So on every summer trip to India I got exposed to a different facet of Indian culture. One year it was classical dance, another it was a tour of famous Hindu temples, and another year it was classical music.
I didn’t like these immersion experiences. I just wanted to be home for the summer with my friends running through sprinklers. But since I was thousands of miles away from home, I did my best to find ways to cling to what was familiar to me. The year I learned music, I made up the following song to remember scales in Sanskrit. It goes to the tune of “Doe, a Deer” from the Sound of Music.
Sa -- a tool, a cutting tool
Re -- a drop of golden sun
Ga -- Oh, God, I must get home
Ma -- the first part of my name
Pa -- Laura Ingalls’ dad
Dha -- the word spelled, t-h-e
Ni -- the place where my leg bends
And that will bring us back to…
Sa
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![]() By Madhu Krishnappa 061201 | ||||