There’s one day left to the first exam of this year’s mid-semester examination cycle. I’ve spoken earlier about how disenchanted I’ve become with the teaching-learning system at University, and with the entire mechanism of testing that we have over here, but as a student, irrespective of my criticism, the system is one that I must abide by. So here I am, scavenging for notes, and attempting to understand 60 days worth of lectures in one night. Welcome, to one week of an erratic sleep cycle, unhealthy binge eating, and loud music. If the electricity dies, welcome to one week of frustrated yelling loudly into the abyss (this applies throughout the year in the Boys Hostel, but especially so during exams).
So of course all I can think about today is Spotify. I first heard about the service back in 2010, when I discovered that Americans paid for their music, and bought the songs that they listened to on their iPod. Much unlike the piracy I was used to, and accustomed to surviving off. Spotify caught my imagination because it offered streaming, and soon, I installed it, using a VPN, and then realizing my technological prowess would lead me to paying way too much for the service.
Thankfully my friend Bhukkad moved to America, leading to 3.5 years of mooching off his Spotify Premium account. It’s been great – I’ve had unlimited access to excellent music, no advertisements, and the ability to annoy him by changing the music he’s listening to. I also had the power to make music play in his earphones even though he didn’t want it, and once, caused him public embarrassment, I think, by making music play over his speakerphones.
It was great.
But Spotify launched in India, and I expressed my desire to buy an account. This is a departure from me being cheap, and I’m glad my parents supported it, because now I’ve got access to unlimited streaming for myself – and artists are being paid for their art as a result.
The only thing I’m sad about is that I can no longer annoy Bhukkad.
Tejas Rao 