It’s almost a cliché to say music brings people together, but in my experience, music has also set me apart. I’ll be the first to say I was insufferable when I was younger: my teenage ‘rebel’ phase started early and never really ended; I was a ‘Reddit atheist’ before I even had a Reddit account; I was often told that I was “not like other girls” and took it as a compliment (it isn’t); I was stubborn, sure of myself, and unafraid of an argument; and of course, I didn’t like cricket or Bollywood.I tried to get into Formula One, and I supported Argentina for reasons totally unrelated to football, but soon, I came to the realisation that I simply don’t like sports. Not liking Bollywood – particularly Bollywood music – proved to be more isolating than I expected, especially since I also didn’t like any of the music that was around in early 2000s Kolkata. Not Rabindrasangeet, not Adhunik Gaan, not the Bangla bands. It was this huge thing, among a bunch of other huge things, where I had nothing in common with the people around me. So, I built myself a bubble, where I listened to what I liked on Youtube, and ignored what was around.Over the years, if a song I liked played on any public address system, it would become almost totemic for me: it made me instantly happy, made me feel like someone, somewhere, had something in common with me. Illustration: Pariplab ChakrabortyFor three to four minutes, the sheet of glass that I felt between myself and other people disappeared. Then globalisation happened, and I myself travelled, with family, or for work, but hearing music I liked never stopped being a special occasion. I remember the time, in a mall in Hyderabad, when they played The Night We Met, by Lord Huron. I remember both the times Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol came on German radio, once in the gym, and once in a car with my colleagues. The second time, I said something like “Oh my God I love this song”, and sang along, and afterwards, our boss asked if this was the same band from my desktop background (it was). Hozier going viral on TikTok was great for me, personally. I’d heard Take Me To Church at the grocery store once when it was a hit, but hearing Too Sweet every now and then was almost an embarrassment of riches.That brings me to this year’s FIFA World Cup, which I was following along for the memes and reels. There was a particular reel format that started with the statement “girls don’t know football”, and then rattled off facts like how the rate of domestic violence rises in England when the national team loses. The background music for these reels was Sarà Perché Ti Amo by Ricchi e Poveri, an 80’s Italian song. That song, for some reason, got stuck in my head, and it stayed, try as I might to get rid of it. At that time, I was at a conference in Copenhagen, and the day I had to travel back, my debit card seemingly stopped working. I didn’t have any cash on me, and nor could I use the mobile payment app I usually used, leaving me without a payment method, in a different country, on the day of return, when train delays and cancellations were already rampant. So, I searched desperately for an ATM that would hopefully read my card, but there were none around me. Plus, in my haste, I left my suitcase at the shop!Amid the panic, I heard it: a middle-aged man humming a tune. It was Sarà Perché Ti Amo. For one moment, this stranger and I had the same song stuck in our heads. We may have nothing else in common, but we had this song. I decided to take it as a sign from the universe: now that I had heard my song, the rest of the day was going to be okay. And it was: I found my suitcase at the same spot, the debit card issue was really only a one shop issue, and I eventually got on a Swedish train where my payment app would work.So, perhaps, music does bring people together. Because for the few seconds that the stranger and I shared a song in our heads, it brought me comfort and reassurance on a stressful day.Another time, I found myself at karaoke night with some friends, including an Italian, who agreed to sing Sarà Perché Ti Amo with me. He had to carry the tune, because I was busy dancing and jumping. It was the best I’ve felt in a long time.Malavi Sengupta is an evolutionary biologist who loves good food, bad puns, and niche memes.We’ve grown up hearing that “it’s the small things” that matter. That’s true, of course, but it’s also not – there are Big Things that we know matter, and that we shouldn’t take our eyes, minds or hearts off of. As journalists, we spend most of our time looking at those Big Things, trying to understand them, break them down, and bring them to you.And now we’re looking to you to also think about the small things – the joy that comes from a strangers’ kindness, incidents that leave you feeling warm, an unexpected conversation that made you happy, finding spaces of solidarity. Write to us about your small things at thewiresmallthings@gmail.com in 800 words or less, and we will publish selected submissions. We look forward to reading about your experiences, because even small things can bring big joys.Read the series here.