Music and blah blah:)

it's 4 something in the night. I slept for around two hrs and woke up exactly at 3:40 feeling hungry. It's quite justified, had missed dinner. Mom, dad, bro are sleeping. Weirdly enough bruno too is in deep slumber. May behe's dreaming too. Ate a whole musk melon and then suddenly had this urge to write something/s. firstly something to him sleeping in the room next to mine: May be I love you a lot more than I can ever say/express. May be I understand almost everything you've gone through and are going through. In fact it's not even a "may be", it IS true. Just like you, I had dreamt of living the life of a wanderer, had wished really hard that I'd explore all that there is to and would defy all norms. Just like you, I have always disliked the conventional ways or follow the crowd mentality. Just like you, the questions of whys and hows and what for have disturbed me over and over again. Just like you, I've strifed hard to find that one strong rea

One of the very very hectic days. Didn't get the chance to sleep properly in the past 30 hours or so. some interesting things I came across during a conversation: -a process can initiate itself and doesn't need any energy/reason for that. (doubtful about it) -The sum total of universal energy is Zero. There's as much of positive energy as much there is negative. Makes sense. However the so claimed theory that the entire universe is an outcome of nothing still doesn't click. -and something that's really interesting... there're dimensions like 1.5 D and these can actually be visualized by human mind. so mysterious is this universe. and science.

Something I really really want to write about: 1. The instrumental music- how the instruments talk:) and how it inspires. 2. About the music from other lands. The songs in foreign languages with weird but lovely instruments played in them.. which makes no sense (lyrics wise) but are so heavenly to listen to:)

- have hurt the little finger of my foot. It's painful. still not sure if I should attend morning's Yoga class or not!. -chupke se playing in my head since evening. -Rahman + Gulzar is an awesome combo. and I'm trying not to think about music. R is an amazing alphabet rm, rahman, rock, royal, reverence, research, refresh, rain, rome, revolution, realistic, reverberations, rhythm, recreate, radio, radiohead, random, ramblings, rivers, red, rehna tu.. not back to music. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- fic time.. Life is packed with taming of thoughts. As he left, there was no one there, except the old Peepal tree, tiresomely lonely amid the crowds. And it was not even budging. I looked at its branches in anticipation, and it was making excuses like "Hey girl, are you out of your senses. I am a tree. I don’t know how to talk." And at times it seemed saying, "Okay, I know how to talk but you see I am a naive an

I can play air guitar and I can play it really well. The price of the musicians, who can never be. They achieve the mastery over their instruments, telling the instruments how to act out the way they want them to. And here, we compensate for our silence, through our verses. It's not enough that we can coax our words or trick our lines into pictures.. and thus, I try hard to hear the music in my mind. I must hear it as I walk, as I talk, as I breathe. And thus, during these hot summer afternoons, I'd tune up and let my mind unhinge itself, and play all the mighty chords... Such a sweet illusion!! Happens, when I miss guitar.

On an evening like this, quiet, Soft, smooth and scarlet hanging flabbily out of the blueprints of a humdrum day of early summers Dirty as I roved in the porch watching blue herons serenading on the green branches of the Mango tree, the thought that clicked me first wasn’t of yesterday’s memories, or today’s accomplishments or tomorrow’s clear-cut charts or of the meadows full of green rain-soaked grass with heaps of moss gleaming in moonlight, or of where the stars hide in the day but of an ordinary world with ordinary things. It seemed the perfect moment to say a good-bye to this hyperbolized world and its gaudy lights and intemperate facades and to return into the lanes of a wrinkle-free world full of geese and swans. fairy tales slipping out of the pockets and memories from childhood taking form of sounds and noises, into aimless ramblings of the dreams and the magic-filled nights, which followed the motion of the stars and eavesdropped the silent whispers that the gasping earth ma

Love has taken away all my practices and filled me with poetry I tried quietly repeating, no strength but yours, but I couldn't.. I had to clap and sing I used to be respectable and chaste and stable But who can stand in this strong wind remember those things? A mountain keeps an echo deep inside itself. That is how I hold your Voice. I am scrap wood thrown in your fire and quickly reduced to smoke I saw you and became empty. This emptiness - more beautiful than existence it obliterates existence and yet when it comes, existence thrives and creates more existence!! The Sky is Blue. The world is like a blind man squatting on the road. But whosoever sees your emptiness sees beyond Blue and beyond the blind man. A great soul hides like Muhammad or Jesus, moving through the crowd in a city where no one knows him yet. To praise is to praise how one surrenders to this emptiness. To praise the sun is to praise your own eyes. Praise the ocean. What we say, a little ship So th

Too sleepy. Thoughts, images, memories are rolling in head. Pouring them out. Grass, grass and trees, a lotus pond. and cows.. No, no cows. Sunshine, space, fresh air, laughters. trees? jamun, aam, neem, peepal. the walking track laid out as if a child’s game then the dusk, not just reddish, but greyish, bluish, purplish, quietly falling over the land and those abrupt changes in the birdcalls the cascading orchestra of insect sounds And the silver flowing through the night, flyovers passing by above, shops lined across the edge of the road, sleeping city. The tic tac toe of the words said/unsaid. Then the shores Sea shores Sunset over the water. Silver turns into a grey-white at one side, and a vague blue at the other. the sun, a yellowish orangish globe of fire. The yellow gold. The faint far away mountains, the blue green of the peacock feathers. A single star glowing in the deepening black. Lighthouses in the sea, far far away. The whoosh of the waves crashing into the shore. Unendi

I can extend the physical space around me and make a personal temple all for myself, so that I don’t have to go somewhere to calm my restless spirit But space affects me It alters my mood It changes the way I perceive the world and myself If I have this temple that shields me from spaces outside, would my subjectivity stop acting on my room in my house and me? Would only the gleaming gold dome with its arches of peace enfold me forever? .

I love the serenity of the night. It stills my mind. Often, when I try to sleep, I cannot because I want to write. If I get up from the bed and come to write, the effort to sleep would have been wasted because I know that I wouldn't be able to control my words. And I love watching sunrises, through the glass of the window, the kitchen filling up with the morning light, the sky breaking up with tints of different colors, the houses drenched in the morning calm, the birds chirping, the chill of the fresh air. It's an extension of the beauty of my night, like spreading out the carpet for more, rolling over and unfurling, like the gradual opening of a bud. .

This is something that I wrote very recently. It's quite different from the way I generally write and the kind of trance I'd written it in is ineffable:) .What's..what's next?? The song about me. Oh.Yeah.I like this one... - Prelude, Got 'Til Its Gone, Janet Jackson About two years ago, after reading Nick Hornby's Songbook , I wanted to write about my own all-time favourite musician. Immensely Talented Curly Haired South Indian etc. But when I actually sat down to complete this exercise, I was disappointed to find out that writing an essay informed by my taste in music felt about as impossible as compiling a list of songs that best represented A. R Rahman's spirit of genuine spontaneity. Not that I didn't try. I must have listened to songs like Ye jo Desh hai, Satrangi Re, Rubaroo, Tu Hee Re at least 500 times in my efforts to put down on paper exactly how they made me feel. But Rahman's music is rarely just that, and even though it is never too sma

It was a night before the eternal sunrise Holding in it the darkness of yore Flooding with some silent quests And brimming with myriad of unheard cries Echoes reverberating since infinite times Truths entangled in a mesh of uncertainties And lies glimmering as eternal veracity The deceased air choking breaths crammed with dying pregnant words The open wounds of yore raw like never before The rain of fire smoldering the flesh The masks were removed And the curtains fell down Realities egressed- Bare and naked The souls scuffled for a single drop of pure light Light to unravel the mysteries of this infinite lethal night An ephemeral sight of the Sun followed by a never ending dance of death The potion of life dribbling down The waves of death reflecting the lights In a moment’s womb Life and death joined their hands A state similar to that between consciousness and trance A moment of joy and a moment of pain Everything suddenly at rest No noise, no echo silent as sneaky steps of death No

Thoughts, feelings, emotions…. Sometimes I do wish for a word more deeper and intense, a word more appropriate and fitting, a word more subtle and intimate, a word which can define it. Define “IT”.