My Saviour

I have many interests. I sing, read books, interpret them, write, and crack jokes. But there is one particular hobby for which I am deeply grateful: music.

I have never taken a music class. Perhaps I inherited this love from my mom. Whatever its origin, music has helped me sail through every wave of life. I can spend three or four hours simply listening to songs and singing along. I get bored very easily, yet music is the one thing that is always with me.

The companion that stays

I am almost always humming a tune or trying to understand what a song means. I used to become extremely serious before exams, but even then music kept me sane. No other hobby has given me the same comfort or sense of relaxation.

Music does not remove the difficult parts of life. It simply gives me somewhere to rest while I move through them. That quiet, dependable comfort is why I sometimes think of music not merely as a hobby, but as my saviour.

Music does not remove the waves from life, but it has always helped me sail through them.

The path I could not see

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had chosen music as my career. I was born in a village in Sarlahi that still does not have a music school. Back then, there were hardly any schools at all. I was taught that academics was the only ladder I could climb to succeed.

When only one path is visible, it is difficult to imagine choosing another. Music could remain a private joy, but it did not seem like a possible future. Even now, I sometimes wonder what life looks like when a person is able to pursue entirely what they love.

Would work change the love?

I do not know whether making music my profession would have deepened that love or changed it. Perhaps, after seeing the hard and repetitive parts of the work, I might even have started to resent the very thing that now brings me peace. Loving something and earning a living from it are not always the same experience.

Still, I want people to give the career they love a genuine chance. Success is not guaranteed, but the attempt gives you something real: you no longer have to fill the unknown with empty thoughts. You have lived the choice, felt it for yourself, and made that part of life tangible. There is a special satisfaction in knowing—not merely imagining—what your love asked of you.