The Narratives – Mohamed Miah

Growing up, music was a constant companion in my life, evoking deep emotions and creating a soundtrack to my experiences. I was especially captivated by Bollywood, with one of the first tracks that truly made an impact on me being Jumma Chumma. The energy, the power of Mr. Bachchan’s iconic voice, and the shouting—there was something raw and electric in it that pulled me in. Then came Tu Cheez Bari Hai Mast Mast. Looking back, my younger self was drawn to songs brimming with energy, their catchy rhythms making life feel larger than it was.

But then, everything changed with Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge (DDLJ). Maybe it was because I was entering my teenage years, or perhaps it was the hormonal shifts of adolescence, but suddenly, music wasn’t just fun anymore—it became a medium of emotional connection. Like so many others, I fell in love with DDLJ, not just for its plot but for its soul-stirring music. The soundtrack felt like it understood me in ways words couldn’t, and I, in turn, created my own emotional dramas based on those songs.

Then came the phase of rebellion in my late teens, and I stumbled upon the raw and rebellious voice of Tupac Shakur. His anger and boldness were intoxicating; he was cool, fearless, and everything I wanted to channel. It was a time of standing against the norm, and his music was the anthem of that rebellion. After Tupac, I hit a more emotional stage, connecting deeply with R&B and sad Bollywood tracks like Na Milo. I remember feeling like I was living my own personal Bollywood movie, with music narrating every moment of my emotional journey.

But as the years passed, life shifted. Marriage, family, and work commitments took the forefront, and music’s role in my life started to fade. It’s not that I stopped liking it, but more that I didn’t have the luxury of lingering in nostalgia or recreating past emotions. Life demanded my attention in more practical ways. And there’s something about growing older that changes how you interact with music; you realise how much it tugs at old memories and feelings—sometimes, you’d rather move forward than dwell on them.

In time, the focus of my life shifted. The emotional highs and lows once shaped by music were replaced by something more grounding—faith. The poetry of Dikr and the Quran now fills the space music once occupied. It’s not just sound, it’s something that speaks to my soul in a deeper, more fulfilling way. The melodies I follow now aren’t ones crafted by artists, but rather the rhythm of life itself, intertwined with faith, responsibility, and purpose.

So, what would life be like without music? It would still be full—just with a different kind of soundtrack. The tune I follow now is quieter but far more profound.