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A Psychological Documentary on Vicarious Trauma!


My Playlist Needs Therapy. And So Do I.

If you ever unlock my phone and open my playlist, please sit down first. Hydrate. Inform your family. Because what you’re about to witness is not a playlist. It’s a psychological documentary on Vicarious Trauma.

It starts sweet. Soft. Harmless.

You meet the hopeless romantic version of me.
The one who believes eye contact in a grocery store is destiny. There’s Amit Trivedi playing in the background like life is an indie film shot in golden hour. When Chai Met Toast telling me everything will be okay. Prateek Kuhad gently breaking my heart for sport. AP Dhillon making me feel like I just survived a situationship. Then Sonu Nigam and Sanjith Hegde show up and suddenly I am staring out of a window like I own property in Manali.

The lyrics whisper, you matter. You are loved. Meanwhile, my bank account whispers, behave.

Before you recover from that emotional spa session, shuffle hits hard.

Now I’m a 40-year-old philosopher balancing between an identity crisis and divine surrender. Then Pandit Bhimsen Joshi starts playing. I don’t fully understand the raag but I nod like I was born in it. Raghu Dixit arrives barefoot and wise. Indian Ocean makes me question capitalism. Bombay Jayashri calms my imaginary spiritual crisis. Agam and Thaikkudam Bridge turn enlightenment into a live concert.

Then suddenly background score energy kicks in. Hans Zimmer makes my trip to buy milk feel like I’m saving Gotham. Rok Nardin makes me feel like I should be walking in slow motion through fog for no reason.

Somewhere in between I whisper to myself, maybe I am the universe experiencing itself.

Just when you think we’re stable, the cat-loving, random-ass Gemini appears. No warning. No logic. Pure chaos.

Now it’s psytrance at 9 in the morning. KSHMR drops a beat and I forget what I was having for breakfast. Avicii makes me emotional in a nightclub inside my head. Hanumankind enters like he owns my confidence. Ummet Ozcan takes me to another dimension where music is currency. Khantrast screams anime aggression. Bushido Girl shows up with a shamisen and now I want to fight a dragon. The HU chants and suddenly I feel like I belong to a Mongolian cavalry unit.

And then. The OG rebel kicks the door.

Green Day starts shouting and teenage me wakes up. Aerosmith walks in with dramatic hair. Guns N' Roses reminds me I once dreamt to learn guitar. Linkin Park makes me scream lyrics I didn’t know I still remembered. AC/DC supplies electricity to my spine. Imagine Dragons makes everything feel like a sports montage.

At this point, my playlist isn’t shuffling songs. It’s shuffling personalities.

Romantic. Monk. Raver. Rebel.
All co-existing inside one confused human who just wanted background music while taking care of his family.

So if you ever see me casually walking on a random Tuesday with earphones in, understand this. Inside my head, there’s a full-blown festival happening. Someone is healing. Someone is raging. Someone is falling in love with a cat who just keeps scratching its back.

Care to swap playlists? Fair warning though. You won’t just learn my taste in music. You’ll meet all my unresolved characters.

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