WITH MUSIC

Music bends the course of civilizations. Music moves perceptions and changes the course of language. Music starts conversations. With yourself. It reaches deep through your futile sense of understanding and tugs at your heart. And somewhere at the back of your head, the streams of music from your earphones converge, and release clouds of ‘wonder’. And as it grows on you, for those few minutes, your eyes see you. Over the sound of the music, runs a montage of your most vivid imaginations, a roll-out of ‘what-if’s, ‘should have’s, ‘if-only’s and ‘who-am-I’s.

Music stays. Sometimes as silence after the song. Music brings ecstatic rushes of memory to some of those who thought they had lost all of it to age.

Music inspires appreciation – one of the few differentiating features of humanity left.

Music inspires belief, or suspension of belief.

To some, it causes the choreography of a dream, to others; a revision of forgotten ones. You look so beautiful, staring into oblivion, your oblivion – which overflows with wonder, satisfaction and the nonchalant attitude, that the world wouldn’t end if we didn’t pay attention to it for a few minutes, plugged in the earphones and let ourselves loose on a 3-minute trip of freedom.

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Maybe you are not needed

‘But they need me.’

is, many-a-times, a good enough reason for us to stick around doing things we don’t really like, with people who don’t really value us.

And yet, we insist on continuing to assume that role, just a little longer, just until the dust settles, and then we can let go and find ourselves. Because we are the managers, teachers, the parents or the likes with ‘great responsibilities’, and though we wake up everyday imagining a different life for ourselves, we somehow decree that ‘now’ is a bad time to take the next step towards it.

Well, maybe reassess. Maybe your school will still have great teachers on-board to care for the students. Maybe your subordinates do not need your exaggerated effort to keep them together. Maybe your successor, no matter what role you pursue that your heart doesn’t, will do much better than you do.

Not being needed gives you the freedom that you need to walk away. That makes you dispensable – and indeed, available to the things and people you love.

Well sure, we worry all the time that we might look like quitters. But what do we see for ourselves? What would you like to be?

 

 

 

 

Wine and the other shine…

Tonight when I come home, darling…
we’ll switch off everything, save the darkness…
Two glasses of red wine,
your glowing eyes and mine,
will go searching in the skies..
For stars in disguise..

Then we’ll talk about the passing of life…
and how everything fits in perfectly fine…
Two more glasses of red wine,
your embrace and mine…
and we’ll beautify the skies..
With the stars in our eyes..

And the roots danced..

I rode to work in a vintage Indian chariot today.
Or at least, that’s how royal I felt in the cab.

The old cabbie was no extraordinary driver, the cab wasn’t a luxurious sedan, nor was the weather any better than yesterday. Continue reading “And the roots danced..”

Find yourself at home…

I got my first sneak peak into the Zen philosophy yesterday; just a soup in the food for thought.
And it was disturbing. And then marvelous.

Disturbing, because it is most inconvenient to fathom that all you are, and all everybody around you is, is mind-body – the co-existence of certain hardware and certain software.

Marvelous, because thankfully Continue reading “Find yourself at home…”

Send them love

“Lost love is still love. It takes a different form, that’s all. You can’t see their smile or bring them food or tousle their hair or move them around a dance floor. But when those senses weaken another heightens. Memory. Memory becomes your partner. You nurture it. You hold it. You dance with it.”

~ Mitch Albom

It breaks my heart to have parted ways with so many dear people…people that used to be such a tremendous source of belonging in my life. I don’t know what the future brings, whether these paths might converge again, but I cherish them, I miss them sorely, and I send them love.

His soul. Not for sale.

In the car, I made a bubble with a bubble gum. On the street, he made a hundred with his bubble guns..

He didn’t sell any bubble guns, but he beautified the scene… And just as the traffic cleared, and I saw him walk by, I saw his last bubble.

And I burst mine.