Food Poisoning at the Sangeet

Before I turned 30, I made a resolution to sing in front of an audience. I had spent 29 years of my life being extremely shy, and this was the least shy thing I could think of doing. I couldn’t imagine something more embarrassing than revealing to a room full of people that I am an extremely average singer, and that I am, in fact, still going to sing you a song.

I managed to squeak out one song at a ukulele club two months before my thirtieth birthday. Three months later, I found myself flying halfway around the world with a ukulele on my back to sing a mash-up song in Hindi and English that my best friend, Swetha, and I had composed during one sleepless weekend in San Francisco. Swetha talked me into singing a song at her Sangeet when she found out about my resolution.

People ask you all sorts of funny questions when you travel with a tiny guitar-shaped instrument.

“Is that a violin?” (most common)
“Is that a chainsaw?” (less common but happens)

I really liked telling people I was playing music at my friend’s wedding. The ukulele transformed me into both an interesting and a musical person, two things I am usually not. I never mentioned that I’m not getting paid for this gig, or that every uncle, aunt, cousin, child, and person who works at the hotel is also performing at this wedding.

I absolutely love the concept of a Sangeet, and I wish there were an American tradition similar to it. I would love to get (or force) all my family and friends to perform in a talent show to celebrate me. When we arrived, I realized the Sangeet was mostly dances, and I didn’t know when we would be called up to sing. A few minutes into the event, I started to feel really woozy and sweaty. I thought it had to be nerves, but little did I know, I was at the very beginning stages of the worst food poisoning I have ever had in my life (typical white person). Finally, about halfway through, the MC called us up to do our song.

I was shaky as we stood up there in front of 200 mostly strangers. I quickly realized that bangles and ukuleles do not mix and sheepishly took them off and placed them on top of a pile of lyrics printed in 72pt font on the floor, just in case I froze and forgot everything. Luckily, we had practiced enough so that food poisoning could not take me down, and it was over before I knew it. After we finished the song, Swetha’s uncle, who I had become friendly with during the few days in India, came right over to me. The only thing he said was, “You should really take some voice lessons.” I almost died laughing.

Doing the most embarrassing thing I could think of, and having someone respond with the most embarrassing comment, really wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. No one really remembers your mistakes or wrong notes. We are all too caught up in ourselves and worrying about what we did wrong. Performing changed my outlook on life, almost as much as the bout of food poisoning changed my gut bacteria (it’s never really been quite the same).

Swetha inspires me in all sorts of ways, and her musicality, creativity, and wonderful singing helped carry our song and cover up my lack of talent and extreme stage fright. I feel honored that she shared her special day with me, which made the experience very special for me too.

Okay, so the second most embarrassing thing I can think to do? Write this blog post and then post the video of the performance here. Enjoy.