About Sumita

Sumita considers herself as a writer for all reasons. She has written most of her adult life starting with a book of stories at the age of eleven. After an unsuccessful attempt to get into journalism school Sumita fell head first, into advertising copywriting and that started an affair of a lifetime (at the risk of sounding a tad cheesy). Today Sumita is a not so lean and mean writing machine displaying capabilities in many styles. Check out the offerings on display and do get back to her with your feedback and requests for writing work -

The music in my head

There were drums playing  in my head on Thu. Usually it is the violin on Thursdays and the harmonica on Saturdays. I was a little surprised, maybe even perturbed, but the feeling didn’t stay for too long. Someone needed to pay heed to the music and since it was in my head, it had to be me.

The building supervisor had once complained about the guy who played the drums loudly on the fourth floor. “Not all of us enjoy drums,” he said to him through the din of the music. “You’ve got to stop.” Everything else that was implied just hung in the air between them and was of course completely ignored by the drummer boy. Since then the drums have gone off in my head.

As a child I was not considered to be very musically inclined, though it was not for lack of trying. I was sent to a teacher, in reality a bored housewife with middling music skills, who played an out of tune instrument. I came back from each lesson, even less musically inclined till one day it was decided that enough was enough. Since then I’ve dabbled in learning magic, trying to walk on stilts and ventriloquism . I just managed to get the hang of it when abruptly the drums and violin started playing in my head. I didn’t think much of it. I really enjoyed it, though to most people watching my head bob from side to side must’ve been disconcerting. I hope I didn’t look like a bobble head doll. I really hate them. They freak me out. They’re always looking at you from the corner of their big eyes and smirking from the corners of their over-bright smiles.

I realized that I was happy with the music in my head. Some days, I could turn the volume up if I wished to. I figured this the day I found M in bed with P. M and I had been engaged for two years and were on the cusp of marriage. A certain familiarity had crept into our relationship and I enjoyed that. It felt comfy…like old socks. But then M had to go and do this. And I had to find out. Why? Why couldn’t they have been more discreet? Then I would not have known and life could have gone on. Wonder why people set so much store on knowing everything.

Last night it was the piano. I woke up to it playing in my head. But when I was up I realized that it was coming from somewhere outside. I noticed the light under the door. It was to the room that I usually kept shut. Was the light dim or bright. And who could be playing the piano there? I walked up to the door and put up my hand to open it. And then it stopped…the piano. My hand dropped away. I turned to leave and it started. Yes, it definitely was not in my head. I would have to open the door to find out who was playing. But I didn’t want to. There was enough music in my head. I didn’t need to seek out new music. What if I came across M and P again in the room, like last time?

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