As a kid, I read this Tenali Raman story, titled “Eat Dear Coat, Eat Dear Hat”,
He was invited to a party, but wasn’t let in by the guards. Why? Because of his simple attire. So, he went back and returned dressed in a swanky outfit, which got him instant entry.
As he sat at the dinner table at the party, he offered food to his coat and hat.
“Eat”, he said, implying it was the attire that got him into the party and not himself.
The eight-year-old me immediately thought, “The world is so cruel,”
and probably moved on when I saw the ice cream on the table.
But now that I’m twenty, I see it.
I see how the rooms we enter and the people we surround ourselves with respond to the microsignals we send, often before we speak.
As I write this, Kishore Kumar’s music (Hindi classical artist) plays softly in the background. He’s my comfort zone, my reset button, especially when life feels loud and chaotic. When it’s just me, my thoughts, and a quiet evening, I instinctively turn to Hindi classics, Sufis, and Ghazals. This space feels honest, lenient, and comfortable.
But when people surround me, that’s a different version of me stepping into the room.
That’s when the soulful music takes a bow, and the stage goes to Apocalypse or Mockingbird to have my main character moment while walking around campus, for the vibe and to spark conversations. Not performative, just adaptive. To take me with it to the next wave of conversations.
And almost instantly, conversations turn towards me and go:
“Wait, you listen to Eminem?”
“Bro, MGK?!”
“That Coldplay concert was pretty dope, huh?”
Now, I’m not saying we should abandon the music we listen to. I would still go back to Hindi Sufis and Ghazals when it’s just me and my thoughts. That part of me is non-negotiable.
But I can’t ignore this — the number of times “My Universe” by Coldplay has gotten me a seat at a table… way more than my niche playlists have ever had.
My music taste is dynamic, adaptive, and situational. Not because I lack identity, but because I understand context. I meet people where they are, socially.
(Similar wavelength, if I may, heh.)
And because of that, I get pulled into conversations. Debates. Recommendations. Shared playlists. Suddenly, someone turns and asks:
“What do you think, Aadith?”
And for an introvert, what more could you ask for?
Because sometimes it’s not about changing yourself to belong.
It’s about knowing what coat to wear, to speak the language of the room.
When Tenali wore the coat, he didn’t change himself in any way.
That was just a witty momentary tactic to access the room.
And for me, music works the same way.
Tenali’s coat earned him entry. His wit earned him attention. And maybe that’s the balance I’m learning to — use what opens the door, but let what’s real keep you inside.
And who knows, maybe stay long enough in the conversation, and people eventually grow curious about the songs you keep to yourself. Soon you’ll have a bunch of nerdy friends with a mix playlist of Kanye, Eminem, and a bunch of Kishore Kumar and Lata Mangeshkar music — everyone’s Spotify stats spiralling into beautiful confusion!