Participants at a UPM musical therapy event
Indra Selvarajah wants us to know — and use — the therapeutic powers of music.
BATTLING Alzheimer's in his twilight years, Ronald Reagan was often found responding to familiar songs, sometimes singing along or tapping his foot, as the disease chipped away at the cognitive ability of the 40th US president.
Reagan wasn’t alone. Arizona congresswoman Gabby Giffords regained much of her ability to walk, speak, read and write despite being shot in the head, as doctors used a combination of treatments that included melodic and rhythmic elements of singing to stimulate language centres in her brain.
Her recovery was another demonstration of the power of music in rewiring the neural pathways of humans.
From celebrity to the ordinary, the sick can be helped in ways many do not know yet are possible in musical therapy.
But Indra Selvarajah wants you to know.
For more than 30 years, that’s been her mission — a mission that took her from her Penang home to Bangor University in Wales, then UPM in Serdang and later Florida State University in Tallahassee.
This was followed by a decade of wondrous work in Malaysia — putting together all that she learned — before a move again, to Singapore’s University of the Arts, to explore new collaborations.
In a two-hour chat over pistachios and piping-hot tea at her apartment in northeast Singapore, Indra (left) speaks little of her standing as Malaysia’s only certified musical therapist, with a PhD from Florida State. She's quick to point out that a UPM student of hers, Racheal Yap, is pursuing a similar pathway at the Tallahassee university (more on Racheal below).
Indra steers the conversation then to the musical therapy work done by her cohorts in Malaysia. Again, I notice that much of the work began from foundations laid by her.
For instance, the Malaysian Music Therapy Association was founded by her. Topping it all, the World Federation of Music Therapy added her to its committee in 2020 — a first for a Malaysian.
While such honours humble her, what really matters to Indra is the tri-dimensional journey she’s been on since the mid-90s. It’s a journey to first learn, then master and finally administer the wonders of music to those impaired by ailments such as Parkinson’s, autism, stroke and other neural and cognitive disorders.
As she worked her way through these, she built a community of like-minded musical educationists, practitioners, healthcare advocates and caregivers who were just a call or text away from providing anything she needed.
They include luminaries like Paul Augustin, founder of the Penang Jazz Festival and curator of the one-time Penang House of Music, and Sara Lew, president of the MPDA, or Malaysia Parkinson's Disease Association, which has made life easier for countless people suffering from the degenerative disease (more on Sara and the MPDA below).
Despite the sheer number of volunteers on her speed dial, Indra is someone who takes no one for granted. That’s obvious to me because of the way her eyes well and her voice cracks each time she speaks of people who travelled unbelievable distances and hours to find her — just in the hope that she can make a difference to their loved ones.
In return, Indra is willing to go any mile herself for such patients and their families. To her, no individual is too young to treat (she has worked with premature infants), nor too old (some of the elderly in her care are virtually on their deathbeds).
“Womb to tomb,” she says, describing the diversity of the ages she works with.
But there’s something else we ought to know …
And that is, for all its wonders, musical therapy does not work too well in isolation. It may be simplistic thinking to believe that just being exposed to jazz or any other form of music throughout the day could completely cure someone of an ailment.
Indra concurs, saying people usually need a combination of treatments.
“Aside from music therapy, they might require physiotherapy, occupational therapy and speech therapy,” she adds.
“On top of that, they need to continue with whatever medicine they have been taking and they need overall medical oversight for their condition.”
The "healing" that’s often stated in musical therapy can also be nuanced, and there’s not always a “complete cure”, research shows.
Yet, the general prognosis about musical therapy is that — administered properly — it can significantly alleviate multiple symptoms in people, enhance their motor functions and provide them emotional support.
Some of the best case studies on this were carried out on war veterans returning from conflict zones with post-traumatic stress disorder. Through songwriting, instrumental improvisation and guided listening, these veterans can express emotions that are difficult to verbalise, find a sense of calm, and build connections with others in a safe therapeutic setting.
While it does not erase their PTSD altogether, music therapy helps them manage anxiety, improve emotional regulation, cope and move forward.
Research shows autistic children also make significant progress in communication and social interaction through music therapy. A child who is non-verbal might begin to vocalise or even sing before speaking. Engaging in musical activities together can also foster eye contact, turn-taking and shared attention, all crucial for social development.
Those in palliative care are particularly receptive to musical therapy too as it reduces the pain and anxiety they experience from terminal illnesses, providing comfort in their remaining days.
Not just a nicety but a necessity
Then, why does the average person know so little about all this, I asked Indra.
Her reply was quite simple, related to the fundamentals of music: People still thought of it as entertainment — meaning “nice, but not necessary”.
“It’s also why musicians are taken for granted, sometimes looked down upon and not really valued because people don’t see their obvious worth,” she adds.
“In music therapy though, we talk about music not just being a nicety but a necessity.”
What’s also necessary in this business — but isn’t in the contract of any university — is a dedication beyond calculable hours that demands one to put task before self. Indra doesn’t say it, but I get that much, based on the ever-evolving research, self-reflection and other energy she needs for her job.
It’s why, after a decade of highly-regarded work in Malaysia, she left her shores last year, for a third time, to teach at Singapore’s University of the Arts.
For Indra, the move was in the interest of both her craft and country. Singapore wants to create a regional hub for musical therapy. Indra’s request was simple: Give me the opportunity to collaborate with Malaysia, and I’ll come.
The first of those alliances took place within months of her move in late 2024. By March, she invited her former colleagues at UPM to the Singapore university to join a week of evidence-based research and other learning in musical therapy guided by Petra Kern, former president of the World Federation of Music Therapy. The two universities have been exploring more cross-border work since.
Different treatment approaches for special-needs people at Singaporean and Malaysian hospitals have also prodded Indra to think of a hybrid model of best musical therapy practices for such patients.
Penang to Tallahassee: The making of a musical therapist
Indra the musical therapist almost never happened. As a five-year-old, she had a piano teacher who used to rap her knuckles with a ruler each time she made a mistake, making the little girl detest the instrument and her music.
“At first, we didn’t know why but she wasn’t really showing much interest in practising and, at one point, I really thought of discontinuing her piano lessons,” Indra’s mother Shirley Leong (left) recalled as she sat at the family’s piano one afternoon when I visited their current home in Bangsar.
But father V. Selvarajah, a fisheries department official in Penang, thought Indra ought to be given more time. A fan of classical music, he owned a large vinyl collection of Indian maestros (below) that filled their home with the sounds that became Indra’s early foundation in musical diversity.
There was someone else who absolutely believed in the young girl: Aunt Lucy, wife to Indra’s eldest maternal uncle and a pianist herself.
Eventually, the piano teacher was replaced with another called Ellen Nora Sinaga — a loving soul who helped Indra discover her innate musicality.
The piano prodigy of the Selvarajah family was then born.
Despite this, Indra wasn’t sure if she was cut out for a life in music. For a while after school, she thought of becoming a pediatrician — indicating that healing work had always been a part of her. But when the acceptance to study music at Bangor came, the decision was sealed.
Arriving at the university, Indra discovered the psychology department adjacent to the one for music. Her inborn trait for therapy pushed her to choose psychology as a minor. While the piano was her primary instrument, she also learned percussion to join the symphony orchestra at Bangor.
Earning her Masters’ in music there, Indra returned to take up a teaching job at UPM. It was the early 2000s and the university was working towards becoming the foremost ground for research in Malaysia. Indra found it to be an ideal platform to integrate her diverse training in research, ensemble performance and music psychology.
The more she taught and the more she engaged with the community around her, the more she learned about music’s impact on human behaviour and how it could influence one’s well-being.
Amid local interactions, she began reaching out to global peers and was pleasantly surprised when commission members of the World Congress of Education, who met in Brazil in 2004, agreed to come to UPM two years later.
That’s when she met Alice-Ann Darrow, professor of music therapy at Florida State.
Over a plate of chicken rice balls in Melaka, the professor asked Indra if she had thought of a Phd in music therapy. A plan for Tallahassee began to form in Indra’s mind. But she was aware of the graduate entrance exam she had to pass and the cost of travel to Florida. To her amazement, the professor agreed to house her and give her access to her library so that Indra would have a place to stay and do research without worry.
As expected, she sailed through that exam. Then came crunch time. Would UPM sponsor her PhD in Tallahassee? To her joy, her dean said yes.
Arriving at Florida State, she had to do a master’s level certification in music therapy before proceeding with her doctoral studies. She was there for seven years, during which her daughter was also born.
Home and responsibility beckons
As she was finishing at Tallahassee, Indra was offered an opportunity to stay on in the United States. Lori Gooding, who founded the University of Kentucky’s musical therapy program, was taking up a position at Florida State and asked if Indra would work with her.
“I could have broken the bond with UPM and I could have paid it back because I would have been earning in dollars,” said Indra. “But I felt a stronger responsibility to the people back at home who needed me. I just couldn’t do it.”
With her return to UPM in 2014, she immediately put to work what she had learned. The decade since had, particularly, been profound for her as she touched — and was touched by — countless ailing children and adults trying to coexist in a world that often showed little empathy or patience for their condition.
“Can you imagine how heartbreaking it is when you have kids watching their friends play in the playground, and they are not able to join and they are alone?” she asked, wiping a tear. “I mean, that is one of the most devastating things if you are a child.”
But she’s also thankful for the “angels” in society who try to make things better for the afflicted.
“There are always good individuals and NGOs on the ground, looking to offer solutions to affected families. Some of my strongest champions and allies are actually medical doctors because they see the benefits of my work. Without them, and the NGOs and the access these people give me to those under their care, my students and I will not be able to do what we do.”
Channelling your “inner Gaga”
Some of her most memorable work was with her one-time colleague and current head of UPM’s music department, Ang Mei Foong.
A professional opera singer and soprano trained at the University of Melbourne, Mei Foong (left), worked on her PhD with Indra, her supervisor, to develop voice-based protocols that used Western classical voice training techniques and medical music therapy to support the needs of people with Parkinson's.
Rachael, the second UPM student to pursue a musical therapy PhD at Florida State after Indra, wrote the “Together We Conquer Parkinson’s” anthem in 2018 and coached those with the condition to perform.
“Thanks to the amazing work done by Dr. Indra, Dr. Ang and their team, many people with Parkinson’s today have found their voice, can project it and be proud of it,” Sara, the MPDA president named higher up in this story, told me over the phone.
Widening their circle from Parkinson’s victims, Indra and Mei Foong began adding people with autism, stroke and other health conditions to their "Hand in Hand" series of inclusion-themed concerts (left) aimed at bringing together people of diverse races and ailments.
“The idea was to celebrate all sorts of people with special needs in society,” Mei Foong told me over a video chat.
One of the most joyous discoveries for Indra at this point was a stage-shy 13-year-old girl who happened to be a fan of Lady Gaga.
“Lady Gaga is fantastic because her music has all this ra-ra ga-ga-ga, which is great when you're working with non-verbal kids,” Indra recalled with amusement. “I really developed a newfound respect for Lady Gaga after that because I could incorporate her songs into speech stimulation exercises with these kids.”
“And it was so fun for that little girl because it was the music she enjoyed and she got to be part of a rock band that we eventually formed.”
In summation, Indra says musical therapy has incredible potential in Malaysia, but it can only progress as much as society and the government allows.
“There’s a lot of work out there that we can do, but we lack the manpower and support. Also, sometimes too many things are delineated to the private sector, meaning that if people can’t afford them, they won’t have access to the services.”