How Burna Boy changed my life.

I don’t vividly remember the first time I listened to Burna Boy’s music. It must have been at a party of some sort, where it was played over the speaker, or maybe on the streets. It’s all too unclear. However, what I do remember is how it made me feel. And to me feelings are more important that anything else, because that is what creates a connection between people and things, people and people, things to other things in this world of ours.

It must’ve been one of those days in the second week in August 2019 where I bent my head and cried for the first time since an incident, as my oral unit could no longer accommodate the bubbles of sorrow building up somewhere in my throat. Sekkle down by Burna boy played through the speakers of the Televesion set, as I sat at the edge of the bed and broke down in tears. It had been a rough month for me emotionally, even as my resilience failed me and I found no motivation to engage in anything at all, let alone anything productive. I was mostly numb, unimpressed, experiencing FOMO and self-absorbed in my melancholic state. Oh well. Jokes on me because I’m not even sure I could feel anything, so I couldn’t even tell if I was melancholic or not.

Therefore, I sought to escape to some place (not magical, unfortunately), but somewhere different where I hoped that as I ran through the maze, I might go back to the reason it all started in the first place. All I wanted to do was go to a park and explore the pages of a new book, have picnic by myself with myself, have coffee at a dimly litted cafe with great aesthetics, and most importantly — write. It was very important to me that I pour out my frustrations in words and I hoped that this escape would give an answer to the pondering questions.

But.

None of that happened, so scratch that.

Eventually, I struggled and finally experienced few hours of genuine happiness where I wasn’t thinking of anyone or anything. It felt great. However, somewhere towards the end, I lost a device, and not to be dramatic but I had PTSD for over a week and so couldn’t sleep alone. But it wasn’t the loss that made me feel so miserable but the thought that this streak of light found in this moment of darkness was cut short that I started to question if I ever deserved anything good.

Time went on and I still hadn’t faced my fears squarely in the face, as I was still masking my anguish and acting like everything was okay.

But.

That day, as those magical lyrics played on, something struck me and I just wept for minutes. I was alone. So, I just let it all out. I just never knew how much dirt I was holding back until I was done crying it all out. I was so relieved. Like a drunkard so knackered and unaware of gravity, I danced uncontrollably in awkward motions, I moved as my body felt. Stretched arms, bent knees, eyes gazed on nothing, waist swinging without rhythm. I just moved.

Damini, I can’t explain this thing that you’ve done to me with your voice and rhythmic words that fills all my empty hollows in the right amounts. Maybe it’s what we Post-Millenials call Vibes. Vibes. Vibes. Just maybe it was these ‘vibes’ that cured me of a broken heart and spirit in 2013 as I sang to Like To Party and wiped away my tears with no a (ducking) care in the world.

You see my dark shades on, and I can’t see you…

Thank you.