Rapping is a Horrible Resume Builder, But It Made Me Who I Am.

Trying to make sense of my past decisions.

After posting a little snippet of my first blog on my story, one of my close friends asked me if I was writing a retirement blog. After explaining that I would never give up on something so essential to my character, I posted a picture on Instagram on my Top Songs on Spotify. 20,000 plays, 100,000 plays, and the crowning jewel of my discography, “Vagabond” at 2 Million Plays. I still can’t believe it.

However, after the wave of tiny heart emojis left on my story swelled my ego, I sat wondering what those numbers really meant to me. Do those streams mean success? Is ticking off the million stream checkbox the only thing I got into music for in the first place? I suddenly became very uncomfortable with feeling so proud of myself for those numbers. I created every single one of these songs because I wanted to tell a story and etch out a little corner of hip-hop history for myself and my people; so that I and my family can say, “Yeah, we did that”. Since when did this stupidly large number substitute for that goal?

I get into these periods where I begin to doubt myself deeply, and it starts with thoughts like these. Something that is undoubtedly an impressive milestone for anybody can throw me into a whirlpool of mental self-sabotage. I began to regret much of what I’ve done and who I’ve become on that path. I got streams but delayed my degree by years; I stepped back from that commitment to follow through on another one that I failed; now I’m just picking up the pieces of whatever is left.

I began to curse the path I put myself on, that I could ever be so stupid as to think this could ever fulfill my spirit or make all my wrongs right. Every show that I played, every song that I made, everything was just a distraction from a more stable, secure path. I thought about my parents’ sacrifice in coming to a foreign land, barely knowing the language and not having any real direction, and how I squashed that by wasting everything that had been provided for me to chase a dream. Is that the best I could do when they did so much?

I get overwhelmed with this thought process. It completely consumes me.

Now that I’m sitting in this chair and writing this blog, I’m forcing myself to re-examine these thoughts with a more positive perspective. Dwelling in regret and lamenting about what could’ve been does nothing for anybody, and honestly I just don’t want to be that guy anymore. So, just like I thought about my parents’ sacrifice, I thought back to my mother’s attempts to include me in the language she loved with her whole heart; music. When I could barely read, my mom would bring me to her weekend afternoon singing lessons, filled with older Bengali kids. She was an actress and musician, skilled with the harmonium and deeply knowledgeable in classic Bengali music. It was there, learning the “sa re ga ma” scales and learning songs that I would endlessly repeat, that music, in all its forms, made its way into my heart.

Over the years, music brought me the best of friends and the most memorable of experiences. Music directed me towards a deeper and richer love than I’ll ever admit to the Internet. It gave me hope in times where I had nothing else, and it gave me a response for every single feeling I had. Without music, I wouldn’t be who I am and wouldn’t have experienced any of what I did.

Maybe I did make a mistake by being so involved in the world of music. But even if I did, if I can’t own my mistakes, who am I as a man? The fact is, I could’ve done a million things better, but I decided to try my hand at giving back to the world that gave me so much. I can’t regret giving my all at something that I really love, especially when I do have those numbers next to my songs. I’m still succeeding with every release, everytime someone listens and tells me they like my song, I still feel the same as I did when I was first started rapping as a kid. There’s purity in that, and I’ll try my best to always retain that. I’ll always create, because that’s just who I am.

Thanks for reading, I’ll see you soon. -Raf