The Stories in my Veins

When I started writing music for my first EP, I knew that a huge part of the process, the songs, and the visuals would be about honouring my past, and with that, my family. Though my first single, Divination, is a personal song about facing the unknown and having the courage to endure, as it started breathing to life, the image of my grandmothers would come to my mind more and more frequently. They have served as inspiration for so much of my life, and so I wanted to share some of their story with you, in the hopes that the song and video can carry you to the place it holds in my own heart and imagination.

I have been blessed with two incredible grandmothers. Throughout my youth, they were busy women, full of love for their families, with a fervent excitement for errands, well dressed in a perfectly ironed salwar kameez, and adorned with subtle flecks of gold jewellery. There was always the waft of a freshly prepared meal throughout their pristinely clean homes, always a witty, sarcastic joke at the tip of their tongues, and most prominently, always a prayer for the health and wellbeing of everyone around them. These days they are fragile. Their fingers have begun to twist with the arthritis obtained from decades of hard labour. My paternal grandmother, my Bibi ji, is basically bionic, with about as many joint replacements as one could take, and my maternal grandmother, my Nani ji, can no longer walk without pain. And yet, they still endure. To the eye it seems like they have shrunk with age, but to anyone who experiences them, they are the greatest powerhouses you will ever know.

Growing up, I am ashamed to admit that I didn’t fully understand them. I was very aware of the way they were received when we were out together in public, with their Punjabi dress and covered heads. I noticed the shaky, childlike handwriting when they would sign their signatures to pay at the stores, without understanding that they did not have the privilege of an education. I was aware of their broken spoken English; I would wonder why my Nani ji spoke English with a west Indian accent, without understanding that when she arrived in the UK, the West Indian women in the factories were the ones who made the effort to speak to her. I am glad to say I have since learned their stories, and the stories of so many women like them, and I couldn’t be more honoured or more humbled to be a product of their lives, and to carry their blood and stories in my veins.

Both of my grandmothers were married very young in India, moved away from their families, and embarked on new lives in new villages with their husbands and in-laws. They both experienced the trauma of the partition of India, and the persecution of their Sikh brothers and sisters in the decades to follow. They both experienced being separated from their husbands who came to the UK alone to work and find a home, and they subsequently uprooted with their children to join their husbands. They both had to fight to begin again, to learn enough english to navigate their new lives, and grafted for endless hours in sewing factories for years, all whilst raising their children and tending to their households. They conquered the unknown and thrived, and with that I knew I had to incorporate their history in the visuals for Divination; I just had to figure out how.

I travelled back to the UK this summer for the first time in over two years. COVID had meant that it wasn’t safe or possible to travel, but as restrictions lifted, I was excited to go back home, be with my family, and film videos for a couple of the songs on my EP. When I arrived at my parents house, the first room I went into was my old music room; a beautiful room with hardwood floors, no furniture, a piano, and a bookshelf full of Tabla. Something was different though, something that hadn’t been there before. In the corner of the room were two, big, brass pots, glinting under the soft lights. I immediately asked my mum what they were, and where they had come from.

She told me that they are called ‘Gharay’, and were traditionally given as gifts to young women when they were married. These particular Gharay were given to my grandmothers by their parents as wedding gifts and were used for various different things. When my Bibi Ji was married in the 50s, she would go collect water in the pot from the well in her husband’s village every morning and carry it back to the home on her head. Years later, once the villages had water pumps, the Gharay were used instead to store raw sugar, keeping it cool and dry. The Gharay were functional, valuable and sentimental, and accompanied my grandmothers through their lives, through all the unknowns, and are now in the care of my mother, in our music room. I had found my answer…

I love the visuals of Divination so much more knowing that they carry a small part of my grandmothers’ stories. They are empowerment and courage personified, and they embody the spirit of this song in a beautiful and deep way. If you didn’t notice the Gharay already, I’d love for you to experience the Divination video again, and see if it carries a different meaning for you now, knowing the story behind them.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TvNVVtLY6nA