I sat today with my electronic Taanpura and Swarmandal, both Indian classical instruments used to accompany vocal music, for my vocal Riyaaz, or practice. Riyaaz is the life breath of every singer, the fuel that keeps the singing going effortlessly. It is more than just practice. It is a philosophy in itself. It is this truth that has often caused agony and conflict inside me. Because of the revered position Riyaaz has in our lives as musicians, I have struggled many times when I have not found myself inspired to do it. At such times, it has been with humongous willpower and plodding that I have been able to muster up the will to sit for Riyaaz. It was and continues to cause a lot of guilt and distress in me, and I thought one way to resolve this would be to actually write my way into understanding what I have now come to call The Singers Block.
Pandit Jasraj with a swarmandal
One of the cues I am tempted to use to understand some of the mechanisms behind the Singers Block, is from the experiences of my students. I was sitting a few days ago with one of my students for her session, and asked her whether she had been practicing for the major annual concert event of my venture Music Vruksh. She said that she hadn’t, and had been feeling paralyzed to do it.
Since this sounded a bit similar to my experience, I probed and asked her why. She said that she felt embarrassed when she sat down to sing, because she could see her ‘mistakes’ and not tolerate hearing them.
I spent the next fifteen minutes trying to understand the feelings behind the inability to tolerate mistakes. After much discussion, we understood the immense demands the lady was placing on her music to validate her and make her feel good about herself. The reason she could not tolerate her mistakes was that everytime she made a mistake, she felt someone was judging her and ridiculing her. This was the reason for her paralysis. This is why she couldn’t sit down to do Riyaaz. She had made her music her judge, which was passing a verdict on who she was as a person. This incident brought me back to my own singers block and made me reflect. Did I have unreasonable expectations from my music? Why were my achievements in two deep forms of classical music not enough to make me feel secure and validated already?
Why was I afraid to sing? Was it because I feared that I might not be as good as I could be? Why was so much of my ego in my music? What would happen if I were to engage in music for music’s own sake, and leave my identity and its shadow out of it? For the first time, I dared to wonder.
Interestingly, this does not happen just with musicians. I have seen it happen often in people from almost all professions. There are times when we allow too much of ourselves to come in the way of what we do and how we do it. The sense of ownership moves beyond being just a healthy ability to take responsibility and onus for the work, to making our work our only source of validation.
I would assume therefore that many of the struggles workaholics have, are to do with work fulfilling a personal craving or need. They could either be trying to get away from something, or attempting to court power, wealth or adulation through the work they do to compensate for some other unmet need. I have come to realize that if we expect validation from our work as a prerequisite to doing our work, we are bound to hit a point of frustration; a block that does not allow work to progress.
The validation and recognition should be enjoyed as happy by-products of work done happily and well, rather than something that we feel entitled to. If we can transform our need for validation to a need to see our work done well, and cultivate the habit of feeling fulfilled and happy at doing our work with commitment and honesty; validation, recognition and monetary success usually follow.
There are then fewer chances of a block derailing us. But like with any skill, this is something we need to actively work on. This new habit of taking pleasure in just doing something well needs to be actively and consciously nurtured and cultivated.
As for my Riyaaz, this article I’ve written today hopefully will drive my Singer’s Block away as I resolve to sit with my Riyaaz for many upcoming events.
The writer is a vocalist of both Hindustani and Carnatic Classical music, with over three decades’ experience. She is also the founder of Music Vruksh, a venture to make classical accessible for its aesthetic and wellness benefits.
