Spectrum of Melodies @ IISc

Spectrum of melodies@IISc

All my life, I was under the impression that music pushes people apart. Not only do people have their own tastes in music, but they also love to gatekeep them, and this fact couldn’t help but reaffirm itself when I started my first semester at IISc. People walking down the roads and pavements, isolated by their own headphones — only a tad bit less obvious than holding a big, red “DO NOT DISTURB” sign over their head. I am not complaining, of course — I own a pair of headphones myself, and I wouldn’t survive a day without them.

At least that was what I believed until I broke them last winter.

What an absolutely devastating start to the year! How will I concentrate now? I remember having worried. The corridors of a boy’s hostel are infamous for their ability to jolt you awake from the deepest of slumbers. And what of my precious playlists?

It turns out, when you lose the ability to pipe your favourite rock anthems directly into your skull, you’re forced to actually listen to the ambient noise of the campus. And yes, that includes the sound of birds and monkeys – but even more so the noise of the campus, the college music club, Rhythmica.

I walked into the show—the day I first heard them, it was the annual freshers’ event—expecting, perhaps, a casual, low-key jam session, like those you usually see in college music clubs, with a few people playing off-key. But what I did see completely blew my mind. The sheer volume and range of instruments, the insane calibre of the singers—what am I even hearing? Here was a pocket of people studying at a notoriously intense, study-focused college, absolutely killing it on stage like that’s all they’ve done their whole life! And it wasn’t just one genre—I heard everything from metal to Carnatic classical that day, and they ALL sounded good!

Fast-forwarding a couple of months into the official auditions of the club, and by some miracle, I got in. And, crazier yet, as I got to know the people behind the madness, I learnt that they are all genuinely lovely. My yearning for my Spotify playlist waned as the group introduced me to music that I had never heard of and, if not for them, would most likely never have willingly listened to. But, as it so happened, it all grew on me. Everything was going so fast.

After a few small shows here and there, it was finally time for Rhythmica’s annual showcase. For the first time, I was actively participating. I was so excited, I had told my mom (who had come to the campus to meet me for my birthday) to stay back a few more days to attend the show. On the day itself, the lights were blinding, and my adrenaline levels were soaring – so much so that I failed to notice the nearly half-empty auditorium. But again, I hadn’t realised because I was busy banging my head to the music with at least 20 other people who had come beneath the stage to vibe it out—strangers grabbing onto each other and feeling every strum of the guitar, every beat of the drum.

My mom later told me that she couldn’t believe such a professional production didn’t have people crowding the door to get in. It did feel odd—why hadn’t people shown up?

I suppose the reality of IISc had just settled back in. Lab reports, deadlines, the sheer weight of the coursework – people are inevitably settled beneath their invisible “DO NOT DISTURB” signs, plugging their headphones firmly back on.

Stepping back from the mic that night, I realised why the empty chairs hadn’t mattered to me. The energy in that room wasn’t diluted by those vacant seats; it was, rather, concentrated entirely into the folks who were there. We weren’t playing to the void in the back; we were playing for the twenty people up front who were screaming the lyrics right back at us.

When my mom asked how people could miss out, the irony of the situation finally hit me. I had started the year with the notion that we gatekeep music because we want to push the world away. But deep down, we do it because we want to keep our music personal. We want that rare, intimate feeling that a song belongs entirely to us. In a quiet, unintentional way, the campus being too busy to show up gave us exactly that. It wasn’t about the rest of the college “missing out”; it was our massive showcase that had transformed into a live, breathing version of a shared private playlist. The campus was accidentally gatekeeping the most exhilarating gig of the year just for us!