Vintage

Your past lies in the kind of music that remains hidden in the remotest corner of your shelves, tables, cupboards or your hard drives for that matter. .. The theory is as we age … and keep maturing our tastes change … the moods change the needs change too and not to mention the change in the entire way of creating music as well. An artist’s impression of creativity would vary from one decade to another as would his taste, which surely shall transform and evolve. Most certainly the popular form, which is now widely acceptable for this present generation, morphs into another form which might not match their taste, in the next …. Music caters to the mass and not the creative instincts of the creator … but to immortalize a piece of music is to impart an essence which is instantly identifiable to the untrained ear of the average listener of any generation.
So when I rummaged through and old pile of audio tapes I came across a few of them that had once served as the medium for my romance with music. I remember of having played them everyday basking in the high they provided … but all I find a decade later is layers of un-removable dust and a sense of shallow pity for the once coveted articles which could be bought only after countless tiffin sacrifices. So I shoved them aside and found the CD I was looking for not knowing if I’d again run into them again, ever.. oh.. those songs .. I don’t miss them ... now I have them stored on my computer … I hardly listen to them anymore but I guess I still remember them by heart ….but the point is I don’t miss them .
What I am amazed at is something exceptional in a few songs that I’ve come across in my entire life. There are a few songs that you like instantly , some u don’t know matter how many times you listen to them . But there are some that you don’t instantly connect to on the first go but gradually fall in love with over time…. A friend of mine agrees , says “there are some songs that grow on you , over time “ …. I agree ….
If songs could be emotions or relationships … would this be any different ? Would this still hold ?? It would be interesting to draw a comparison … but lets not relate two very different things … they say you can perform operations on two variables ONLY when they have the same units….. but what if we were talking of dimensionless quantities….. couldn’t we add multiply divide and NOT subtract ?? The answer perhaps lies buried in our present age .. .as we mature and age we’ll perhaps get an answer …. Probably this is the reason why the tastes in music of one generation varies from another … Age , Maturity and Answers to some questions from our past …..

With or without you ....

Your love , so elusive , has rendered my life worth living … when I fall asleep I can see your eyes in those distant picturesque dreams and I fail to wake up to this reality that brings new meaning to the word “ distant “ ….. I cant remember the last time I stopped and stared at an option not leading to your doorsteps … you know me and I presume I know you …. at least I want to …. So slowly does time reveal that you move farther away every time I want to come close … and I am afraid when the clock does strike, I’d be so far behind that my blurred vision would be inadequate to see you in dreams, even .... As I say this I break into a smile and I don’t know why … I really don’t . .Am I scorning myself or is it just that I remembered you trying, in vain, to untangle your hair from the headphone wire ….. . There are so many things that I remember you doing … and I fondly keep recounting them … how can I forget any of them? Aren’t they more important than the other worldly rubbish I go through everyday ?
I so wish that I could tell you that I have these memories of you, stored permanently in my heart that bring me solace when I am about to let go and break into pieces … but they might be emotionally illegal as you’re unaware of their existence …. But I promise to use them well … I do
There’s a certain me in me that tells me you are not meant for me….. but there’s also another me that says “if I can’t be with you in this life … I’ll wait … I’ll wait till this life is over and dealt with “ … Courage, it seems , precedes an emotion that they call love ……..

Castles we build .....

Ever tried to grip sand …… doesn’t matter if its dry or wet , the more you want to grip the less of it remains within your grasp … but then when you are walking on the shore on a cool summer evening watching the sun disappear beneath the curls off the distant clouds , you’ll find an everlasting stretch ahead of you …. Promising to comfort your feet till you can’t walk any longer …. That’s what a handful of sand can promise you …..
When children make their castles they seldom take care to build a wall too, to keep off the waves ….. they pay the price of having to rebuild it over and over again …. But each time they finish re-building it their bruised ego turns into the lovely smiles that your heart enjoys ….. but it’s not the waves and not the children too, for who you have to cry …. It’s the sand , even a tiny speck of it that irritates the eye beyond measure…..
But then again , the nursery poetry associates joy , pleasure and bright colours of the sunlight to the coarse silicon particles that shine like gold on a brilliant summer morning …. I mean that’s what made me happy when I ran my eyes through the spectacularly illustrated swim suit calendars …. Yes, the precisely crafted models were trying their best to outdo the “natural silicon” with their fakes, but truth shows and the beach won …. The sand’s modesty being sweetly violated by the springing waves is a feast that the carnal desires don’t dare to challenge …..
At the end of it ,the eyes fall asleep or are donated and the sand remains …. The children grow up and make castles more solid, and their sweet smiles turning into bruised egos…. It’s a slow process and all poisons don’t act fast …… but then one fine morning on the beach when I see a child doing exactly what I did too, my ego and my pride and my humility is lost … and our lips break into the same smile , leaking innocence from all corners…. They say “ the child’s bruised ego turns into a a sweet smile which your heart enjoys” ….. alchemy is a dying art …….