Archive for February, 2008
Perhaps, the one gift I would really loved to have had is the gift of a song. It can be so beautiful and take you so many places, conjure up all those memories, brew so many dreams, unfreeze those emotions. Oh! how I wish I had a musical gene in me.
Some songs, really are a wormhole in my memories. Just the thought of that song, brings up so many things. Not that, like in the movies, a song was playing, with those important events in my life. These songs, just transport me back to seemingly mundane activities of life, but somehow, the song has made it just that special.
Sometimes, it is just the lyrics, many times it is the music, but most often, it is the way the song sounds in your head.
Some times, a scene attaches itself to the song, many times, the song was there in the backdrop, but most often, it is that unknown inside you, that makes an unfathomable, but beautiful connection of a memory to a song.
Initially, I wanted to write a long, mega-huge post about such songs. But then, the list kept growing, and I did not want to play selector among the songs. More-so, penning the emotions or the memories, felt to me, that it takes away my connection with the song. So, I let the connection remain, forever, inside my convoluted self.
But, then, I would love to live this lovely dream that I have.
A Golden Sunday morning, the warm early morning rays of the sun steeping in through the window, a cup of strong filter coffee, a book in my hand, and the play-list crooning an endless list of songs. Part me, enjoying the perfect morning, a part, losing itself in the book, creating a parallel word, where I am every character in the book, where I am a ghost in every scene of the book, another part, dancing, with my pair of mental left-foots, to the tunes of the songs, and a part, taking jumps from year to year, and memory to memory, reliving the days, re-emoting those emotions.
Slowly, I drift into a beautiful sleep, a content sleep, a sleep induced by a long list of happy and sad and bitter and sweet and priceless nothings from life, a sleep promising many more such moments to live for.
To be rudely woken, for the sumptuous lunch.
In a trivial search to reclaim a lost innocence,
In a trivial pursuit to discover a greater maturity
In a conundrum,
Shall I discard the ‘kid’ in me?
Or Do I become the ‘responsible’ adult?
In a no man’s land;
Life is what I chose it to be