The day is November 26, 2008 and I'm sitting in the Taj Mahal hotel as the terror attack which would claim the lives of 164 people is about to begin. As the first gunshots explode a few meters away, I start running in the opposite direction. Only to find myself injured and quickly unable to walk anymore.
Hopping on one leg, I manage to find a place to hide from the shootings. As I remain there the whole night, unaware that a few floors above parts of the hotel are already in flames, I can only think of 2 things: that my 2 year old son will never have memories of his father and that no one will ever hear the songs I have kept in me for so long.
In the early morning, as I finally find my way out of the smoking building into the light of another day, l promise myself these steps will be the first ones towards something different. In many ways recovering from the operation on my leg is the easiest part. This night has planted a seed inside my soul that nothing can root out, forcing me to face the dreams I let slip away long ago. What if the life I have built for myself stood in the way of these dreams ?
Reinvention has been a long time coming, marked by the adoption of a little Indian baby, a move back to Europe and several jobs. And weighted down by more breakdowns and relapses than I care to remember. But the songs are finally here to be heard. Full of a devil may care attitude which cannot quite conceal the fact that something is broken deep inside, the cracks and the scars which we all share.
And knowing full well that since we all have to go down someday, we might as well go down in style.