The Soundtrack of My Life

The songs listed here are songs that bring to mind specific times, places, and people. In some cases the song was actually playing in the background and in other cases the song is not actually playing but my memory associates the song with that time. Since memory works in funny ways, the time frame I’ve assigned to each song is approximate. As I write this I can think of many more songs that I haven’t listed. This is not a list of my favorite songs, some songs I wish made it on the list don’t bring a specific memory to mind and therefore are not included.

Age 4, 1984: “Beat It” by Michael Jackson

Gigantic first-graders performed a dance at an Indian cultural function in Lubbock, Texas dressed as doctors to “Beat It”. It may seem that a Michael Jackson song and a bunch of six year-olds dressed as doctors has nothing to do with Indian culture. Ha! These children were obviously being indoctrinated, pun intended, at an early age: all Indian parents hope their little Hrithiks and Madhuris will one day become brain surgeons skilled in synchronized dance routines.

Age 7, 1987: “The Way You Make Me Feel” by Michael Jackson

In Ames, Iowa now, I am holding what I perceive to be a life-sized lion stuffed animal up on its haunches and talking to my friend Priya while listening to Michael Jackson’s album Bad in the basement of the townhouse my family lived in at the time. “The Way You Make Me Feel” is the second song on the album and it starts with a animal-like roaring sound. I scream, thinking my stuffed lion has come to life. I remember telling my mom that I thought the lion, a gift from my uncle Ajay, was life-sized. She laughed at me, because real-life lions are much bigger than seven year-old girls.

Age 9, 1989: “Cover Girl” by New Kids on The Block

Tuhina, Priya, Pooja, and I are in Tuhina’s bedroom. My assigned New Kids on the Block boyfriend is Donnie Wahlberg, Tuhina gets Jordan Knight, Priya gets Jon Knight, Pooja gets Joey McIntyre, and apparently Danny Wood is the reject. Even though Donnie isn’t my favorite New Kid I accept him as my man and swoon when he sings “Cover Girl.”

Age 10, 1990: “We Didn’t Start the Fire” by Billy Joel

I walk into J-4 Rollaway, the local roller-skating rink, with Priya and Tuhina and yelped loudly because this song was playing. I don’t know why I was so excited to hear this song but apparently this disproportionate and inexplicable animation is quintessential Manisha.

Age 12, 1992: “Jump” by Kris Kross

In the Ames Middle School gymnasium on a weekend night all the “sevies” including myself are jump-jumping to this song. The boys’ voices singing-slash-rapping this song have yet to change. This is when I learned the difference between a Mack Daddy and a Daddy Mack.

Age 12, 1993: “I Will Follow Him” from the Sister Act soundtrack

Joy and others who went to Saint Cecelia, Ames’ Catholic Elementary School, are my group of friends in seventh grade. We act out and sing along with Sister Mary Clarence and the other nuns in front of the television in Joy’s basement.

Age 13, 1994: “Mausam Ka Jaadu” from Hum Aapke Hain Koun!

“Can you play the songs from Who Am I To You?” my four year-old cousin Ishani asks my parents in a youthful, high-pitched voice from the backseat of our car. I think it’s funny that Ishani can’t remember the Hindi title of the film but instead remembers the formal-sounding English translation. The Bollywood film song begins with a heavily-accented man exclaiming in English 10! 9! 8! 7! 6! 5! 4! 3! 2! 1! Let’s! Start! The! Fun! Ishani, my brother Nitin, and I are sitting in the backseat and burst out in extreme laughter.

Age 14, 1994: “The Time Warp” from The Rocky Horror Picture Show

How I convinced my mother that going to a midnight screening of this film about characters from the planet Transsexual with my friend Caity was an okay thing to do still perplexes me.

Age 14, 1995: “My Name is Jonas” by Weezer

My stereo, upstairs in my room, is on full blast playing Weezer’s blue album. It is early in the summer after my freshman year in high school. That summer I biked to and from the school gym for a weight lifting class three times a week. Uh huh, that was the buffest I’ve ever been. “My Name is Jonas” is the first track on the album. I am downstairs in the kitchen, home alone, doing dishes and dancing and shouting out the lyrics.

Age 15, 1995: “Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes” from Paul Simon’s Graceland

Ankita and I sat in her living room and picked this song apart line by line. It was my sophomore year and I had done this exercise for “The Boy in the Bubble” last year for Miss Eddings’ ninth grade World Studies class. She engaged us in learning about apartheid by showing us a video of Paul Simon and Ladysmith Black Mambazo singing about the South African freedom struggle in Zimbabwe in 1987. Now Ankita was in Miss Eddings’ class and she had the same assignment. We thought “Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes” to be one of the more cryptic songs. We appropriated a meaning to every stanza. Essentially, we interpreted that “diamonds on the soles of her shoes” was a reference to the South Africa’s wealth of diamonds that helped the world ignore the atrocities of apartheid.

Age 16, 1997: “With or Without You” by U2

Driving in my dad’s white Geo Prizm on Grand Avenue in Ames past the mall, Wal-Mart, and Cub Foods with Wendy on a steamy Iowa summer day, we decide to leave the windows rolled up and the air conditioning off because the heat feels good.

Age 17, 1998: “La Flaca” by Jarabe de Palo

My Spanish host-sister Beatriz and I are at a pub in Manzanares near Colmenar Viejo in Spain. This is my first distinct memory of being flirted with and flirting back. A boy said something to me in Spanish and my giggly reply was “¡No Me Mentiras!” (don’t lie to me!).

Age 18, 1999: “E Ajnabi” from the Dil Se film soundtrack

My stereo moves into the third floor lounge of Stanley Residence Hall, two doors away from the dorm room I share with Heather. Liz and I pretend to study our engineering coursework as we turn up the volume of this ethereal song obnoxiously loud.

Age 19, 2000: “Brown Eyed Girl” by Van Morrison

My boyfriend Marc comes to visit me at Dance Marathon, a 24-hour event to raise financial and emotional support for selected families of children in the pediatric oncology wing of The University of Iowa Hospital. Soon after he arrives, “Brown Eyed Girl” plays. Marc is lost somewhere in the crowd and we search frantically for each other because this is “our song”. We find each other and our dance is captured in a photograph that appears taped on my door, pasted on a red construction-paper heart with the title “RA Lovers”. Both Marc and I were resident assistants on the same dormitory staff, and either my residents or fellow staff members posted this image on my door.

Age 21, 2001: “Dil Chahta Hai” from the Dil Chahta Hai film soundtrack

My cousins Mayank and Akhil and I are posing at Fort Aguada in Goa, India, attempting to recreate a scene from the Bollywood movie Dil Chahta Hai. I argue that we are not at the same fort that Akash, Sid, and Sameer are at in the movie and later watch the film to find out I’m right. Every time I watch this film or see the soundtrack I remember this Goa trip and posing at the fort.

Age 22, 2002: “Ray of Light” by Madonna

Allison, Tim, and I are on a frequently-stopping slow-moving train from Jaipur to Jodhpur in Rajasthan, India. Allison and I are feeling grumpy. I had purchased headphone splitters in earlier in Mysore, and now we plug two sets of headphones into my Discman so we can both listen to the song that consistently cheers us up. It didn’t quite cure all this time, but we were mildly less irritable after listening to it.

Age 22, 2002: “The Power of Goodbye” by Madonna

I am on a three-wheeled yellow and black auto rickshaw on a curving road in Bangalore. This song was not playing at the time, but when I hear it this is where I envision myself.

Age 23, 2003: “A Long December” by the Counting Crows

Marc, sitting on his bed in his dorm room in Cambridge, Massachusetts, tells me on the phone that he is listening to this song on repeat. I am walking around my dorm room in Philadelphia and we are breaking up.

Age 23, 2004: “The Way You Move” by Outkast

Andrew is expressively mouthing the words to this song. Elizabeth is dancing with me. Andy (different than Andrew) is the DJ, as he is for every city planning department party. Several other classmates surround us in our merrymaking somewhere near Rittenhouse Square.

Age 24, 2004: “Dil Le Gayee” by Jasbir Jassi

On the highway somewhere in California, Tuhina, Priya, Neha, Nitin, Tushar, me, and all our luggage are packed uncomfortably into a rental-SUV. Neha and I request this song and pass the CD forward from our leg-room impaired back seats.

Age 24, 2005: “Let’s Get Retarded” by the Black Eyed Peas

We decide to eat pizza at a café in Samaná in the Dominican Republic. Stacy, Jeannette, Curtis, Christine, Katherine and I are discussing the roles of men and women while a few songs play on repeat in the background. “Let’s Get Retarded” is the one that sticks with me.

Age 25, 2006: “Kala Chasma” by Amar Ashi

Every Thursday, January through April, Sujata and I go to “Sutra Night” at Red Maple, a trendy Baltimore club. We rename Thursday night, officially called “Sutra Night” at Red Maple, “Brown Night”. The DJ never fails to play “Kala Chasma,” which pleases me extremely. Then in May I am in India and do not escape “Kala Chasma”: my cousin Heemanshu is just as obsessed with the song as me. In the bedroom near the main entrance at the house in Jhunjhunu, Rajasthan, I remember my brother Nitin, Heemanshu, his brother Mayank, and I dancing to this song – and Chacha (my uncle) telling us to turn the music down.

Age 26, 2006: “Sada Dil” by Bikram Singh

I have designated myself the driver and Mitesh, Madhvi, Angie, Dhaval, and I are on our way home after Mitesh’s birthday. My road-ragey, distracted driving probably frightened my passengers on our way to DC, and now, on our way back, I am trying to keep myself awake by singing along to my newest song obsession “Sada Dil.” Nevermind that I do not know Punjabi or that my passengers have endured way too much of my so-called singing on this night already.