Mar 30, 2018 My heart goes shalalala shalala in the morning Shalalala shalala in the sunshine Shalalala shalala in the evening Shalalala shalala just for you! My heart goes shalalala shalala in the morning Shalalala shalala in the sunshine Shalalala shalala in the evening Shalalala shalala just for you!

English Song My Heart Goes Sha La La La La Christmas Song

Practically every week that I have started working here I have had a new song running in my head, depending on the mood I am in, and I play the week’s favorite faithfully at least 4-5 times the moment I wake up, and sometimes on repeat. While this is all very well for me, it is also a pain to anyone who happens to be staying with me, or just living in the vicinity. This was never a problem in college since the only times I seemed to wake up were a meager fifteen min before the last transport to lectures and hospital left, and by then I already had a cacophony of sounds from my meighbours, who tried to out do each other with their various brands of music. It is indeed thus that I recieved my rather in depth education in the songs of Usher, Guns and Roses, the latest WOW album, or just the songs from Shah Rukh Khan’s most recent blockbuster. However, stuck here, literally in the middle of nowhere, with no TV or Radio, my only source of songs are the ones I have had for ages, which while I certainly am fond of, are really, quite… dated.

My parents could read my mood by the songs I used to play in the morning – back in the good ole days when I stayed at home, was well fed, and had a life. ( Oh, ok, I admit it, I did have to go to school too. )
Here the only ones who are awake at the time I wake are the cows and the crows, who really couldn’t care less if I played Mozart or REM. Recently, though, I have had one other listener to my whim of the week. I saw him first one morning when I woke up feeling extremely blue and sick of life and bored witless. Kishore Kumar lamenting musafir hoon yaaron was perfect for that day, as I sat with my cup of coffee, watching the sun fighting a losing battle with the clouds and the mist. He came jogging by the hospital campus on the main road, and caught my attention since he stopped mid stride and turned into through the low gate into the road that separated my ( house? what does one call two apartments stacked one on top of the other, btw? ) place from the rest of the campus. He stood there all through the song and till the next, equally blue and morose, began. So there we were, me perched on my balcony railings, balanced precariously only by an ankle wound around the banister, with my coffee and my red nose and weepy eyes and mad hair, and he, very put together, thinning white hair carefully combed, in running gear, with golden spectacles and a stopwatch, doing exercises on one foot, listening to Kishore Kumare wail about life and its uncertainities. We goggled at each other for a moment, till he raised a hand in salute, at which I lifted my coffee cup at him and promptly lost my balance and did a graceful topple to the floor. He was a regular since then, detouring to listen to my current whim of the week, never speaking, just stopping by to listen and then jog away. So as the days passed, and I mastered the art of the casual lifting of the coffee cup , we listened to Rascal Flatts and Billy Joel, Robbie Williams and Shania Twain, Shaan and Rafi, and everything else in between. All this until I woke up this morning, feeling more chipper and happy than a squirrel who just found the mother lode of nuts. Quite appropriately, the song I happened on was My Heart Goes Sha la la la la by the Vengaboys. Now, I seriously do not understand why this song is so unappreciated. C’mon, look at the lyrics.
So beautifully .. up beat.
And absolutly nonsensical but this is such an incredibly happy song, that my feet just begged to be allowed to dance. So I landed at my usual spot on the railings, positively beaming at the cow under my window, grinned at the sun, and sang along. Of course, soon toodled in the only human in the vicinity and stood at the gate, and .. frowned. In the direction of the music, and then, at me. He frowned! Then proceeded to scratch his straggly little goatee and look at me in puzzlement. I directed my best, most 100 watt grin at him, and raised my cup. He then gave me the kind of look that is probably reserved for raving maniacs that have just escaped the confines of the nearest treatment centre and are running wild in the streets, and positively scuttled away.

Hmph. So much for spreading the sunshine.

English Song My Heart Goes Sha La La La Muerte

Not to be deterred, I called my best friends, one of whom was dying a slow death in Medicine under his Terror of a First Year PG, and the other stuck in the ER in her hospital up in North East India, mucking around searching for samples all the while muttering under her breadth in rapid fire incomprehensible swear words in four languages against the idiot who misplaced them. Aha. Perfect, I thought. Share your joys with your friends. God knows we’ve been through enough sorrow and grouches to make any number of rounds. So I told them, and to cheer them up, pressed Inc Vol to the max and sang into the phone too, for good measure.
By the time the second round of Sha la la la la’s had begun, one was laughing his head off. Oh goody, I thought. Until he said, oh my dear, I do love you, you are the maddest person I know.. hee hee hee, oh oh ho ho ho.. how funny..oh.. you need a break..so do I , oh Ha hahahaha, now I can face grand rounds cheerfully.. he he hehe.. my heart goes sha la la, ooh I’m seeenging. Ha ha. How ridiculous. I have to finish working up nine patients now. And oh wonderful, here’s my obsessive registrar. Great. Now, go. Go eat or something, you are not well. Go take anti depressants.
I was left staring at the phone. Clearly something was wrong. Not one to give up, I dialled the second number, and listened to the four languages that came spewing out. The reactions to my Sha la la’s and jigging around had not been the most heartening, and so though I did think twice about the advisability of doing it a third time, some brave spirit urged me on. So I yodelled gracefully, though it came to a gradual stop in the steady stream of preoccupiedness and sounds of valiant digging through and flinging over shoulder? What Was she looking for? So I spent the next few minutes trying to decipher breathless and garbled explanations. Realising that understanding this particular situation was more difficult than making agreeable noises, I made the noises , at the end being told, that the whole thing was incomprehensible and that she didn’t understand it. I agreed fervently. Then after some very miniscule prompting, sang to her, to utter, complete, and echoing silence from the other end. Ok, uhhh… I was hoping to cheer you up, said I.
Ah. AH, squeaked the phone. Silence. Uh, said I. Silence. Yes, yes, yes. Yes, I feel better. Good. That is a.. very interesting song, she said.
Honestly, what is the matter with the song?
Ok, it is inane. And silly.
But…
Dear reader, if you have managed to get to the bottom of this long post, I do urge you to go listen to that song. Let us spread the sunshine that comes with listening to nonsensical songs and dancing to them.
Have a nice day. .