Songs at Shopcom

Suparna’s voice forces most everyone to listen. Our spot of choice is the third roof on South Shopcom— the one off to the side with the art covering the walls. We make nests there, sitting in a web of dangling legs and eager ears over communal Maggi as we clutch on to every buzzy note Supri tongues on her kazoo or strums on a borrowed guitar. Her voice transports me to a world away and unknown. I like it best when she sings classical music. Humming Taylor Swift pales in comparison. She prefers songs Malayalam, to her Telugu mother’s dismay, and I listen intently as her voice fills the night air, making competition for the mewing peacocks. She always finishes with a humble laugh before translating: “This one is far too metaphoric for me to discern meaning, but I can tell you what the words say.”