Keywords: Ashoka University, Music, Hyper-fixation, Relatability
Edited by: Samaira Kumaran
[Verse 1]
If there’s one song anyone who has known me in the past year associates me with, it is “Ishq Bulaava” by Vishal-Shekhar, Sanam Puri, and Shipra Goyal. Whether I’ve known you for two days or two years, expect to hear the song play at least twice when I’m on the aux. It is my ultimate hyper-fixation song, the perfect remedy for a bad mood, and what’s playing in the background while I write this article.
Ishq bulava aave jab aave..
[Verse 2]
If not as obsessively as me, I’m sure most of us have experienced the feeling of a song snippet looping itself endlessly in our minds. And much to the dismay of those around us, everyone has heard us belt this singular song line as many times as it has popped up in our heads. This phenomenon, in psychological terms, is known as an “earworm” or a “stuck song syndrome” and could either pop up spontaneously or be triggered by emotions, associations, or hearing the melody. These recurring lyrics are considered “cognitive itches,” where our brain finds the need to “itch back” and create a vicious cycle of brain chickenpox. The more we try suppressing this urge to scratch out the itchy song-rash, the more fiercely our impetus fights back in a mental process known as the ironic process theory. So, the next time you want a friend to stop discordantly singing the same three words of a song into your eardrum, remember that it is better they fall sick of it themselves.
Tainu takda ravaan
[Pre-Chorus]
Furthermore, music’s ability to stimulate the release of dopamine – the brain’s feel-good chemical – contributes to its addictive quality. This reward response could create a cycle of wanting to experience that pleasure again, leading to repeated listens and eventual obsession. This dopamine release may be heightened when experiencing “musical frisson,” characterized by sensations of chills or goosebumps that come from listening to particularly pleasing or moving songs.
Ajeeb rangaan di tu hai badi
[Chorus]
Since Ishq Bulaava is still blasting in a loop through my headphones, it’s only fair I explain my obsession with this 2014 song. While I had forgotten about its existence, as one usually does with songs that are a decade old, my best friend kept it close to his heart. Hearing it play on his phone with a group of us huddled around a Pictionary board during game night instantly distracted me from the intense round of “Person/Place/Animal.” You know how you listen to a song after a long time—or even for the first time—and wonder how you’ve survived so long without it? That’s exactly how I felt hearing Ishq Bulaava. It is not just a composition of poetic lyrics and aesthetically pleasing melodies (sorry, this is the extent of my musical knowledge) but a reminder of ritualistic game nights, my closest friends, and the comfort of home.
Main taa kol tere rehna
[Verse 3]
Beyond nostalgia and a catchy melody, I’ve discovered several reasons one could fall in love with a song (Ishq Bulaava wasn’t my first relationship). Whether that specific Taylor Swift song knows all too well how your first boyfriend broke up with you, or Bruno Mars’ “The Lazy Song” resonates deeply with your mood on the day you have an 8:30 AM lecture, relatable lyrics are a huge reason we hyperfixate on certain songs. We all find comfort in knowing that someone, somewhere, is going through the same spectrum of emotions we are, especially in times of distress. There’s something so cathartic about listening to our feelings verbalized in a manner that only a skilled lyricist could achieve—after all, “a problem well-stated is half-solved.”
Tu hansdi rave, main hansaanda ravaan
[Verse 4]
Alright, let’s talk about songs we don’t particularly enjoy getting stuck to our minds like chewing gum on a shoe-sole. Every second reel on my feed in early 2024 used the same section of Djo’s “End of Beginning” to show their hometowns. Before long, it plastered itself across every thought I had, to the dismay of two friends who lost another “underground” song to Instagram. And if you were as chronically online as I was this year, you know which line I’m referring to. Sheer repetition (whether voluntary or not) creates pesky, stubborn earworms (whether you enjoy it or not) that make you never want to open reels again. This reason stands whether the source of repetition is social media, television, retail stores, or your roommate’s roaring speakers.
Tu hansdi rave, main hansanda ravaan
Tenu takda ravan
[Outro]
Before I leave you to wonder about any songs you’ve ever obsessed over, I’ve linked below a playlist of some of my favorite hyper-fixation songs over the past many years. Hopefully, you’ll find something new to add to your playlist, if not a future hyper-fixation track.
What’s your current hyper-fixation song?
Playlist link: