Practice” is a word to which I feel increasingly attuned in my late thirties. Possibly because it has accrued deeper connotations across the wider span of my lived experiences, even though the word registered itself in my vocabulary since childhood, I could date my intentional use of it to when I was in the third standard, so about eight years old, and joined the children’s choir. We had ‘practice’ every Thursday, if I remember correctly. I had also begun weekly piano practice around then. In school, we had “marching” practice all through December ahead of Sport’s Day, and we usually called it “practice” if we were cast in some school play or singing competition and needed to attend daily rehearsals.

The frequency of our usage of the word begins to wane over time, however, especially as we get busy earning a living and find ourselves short on time for hobbies. Unless you have friends who are getting married and you need to brush up on your choreographed dancing skills, one doesn’t ‘attend’ practice, nor do we necessarily even dare to chart new waters and take on a new vocation.