Music They Played

Tired after what I would label as a usual day at work, I reached the comforts of my rented apartment on a wintry evening. The nip in the air that grew by the day had almost de-peopled the streets.

In any case, the area of “eccentricity” I stay in, though densely populated, bears a deserted look after 2000hours. It for that matter is not even uncommon to get mugged, mobbed, or roughed up if you happen to venture all alone!
Security and safety are but strangers to this town; compare it to places like Mumbai and even Vadodara, and you will be in for a surprise. Security, like most other things in life, is relative!

Ah! So here I was. Back home after work, tired, and in great need of a soothing cup of tea. Tea had, I went through the regular motions-dinner, idyllic gazing at the idiot box, chit chat. Lo! I was now ready to hit the bed…all the more inviting with the onset of winters.

So I slept like a log, deep in slumber. Perhaps dreaming for all you know, or even care to know. When all at once, “we don’t need no revolutionnnnnnnnnn” … “Jimmie Jimmie Jimmie--- aaja aaja aaja” … “psychedelic rock, hindi movie songs, and finally Punjabi numbers” are what I hear.

Am I dreaming? Yes!!

Bryan Adams sings why he comes back to his lady love…I smile…yes, good lyrics. Oh! That is Pink Floyd again…I am all smiles!
The only difference is that I have been trying to console myself. I am not smiling in dreams. I am not dreaming. I am wide awake!

I look up at the ceiling…I curse the ruffians who have rather musically, disturbed my slumber, and perturbed my peace…I am humming along…I curse them again…Oh! Here I weep a silent tear for some songs tend to make you nostalgic. And Nostalgia is a strong emotion. It possesses!!

I curse them yet again. It has been over an hour now. I am weeping…and smiling…and cursing them. I revisit memories…tears roll down for old times’ sake. Some song is playing. Now it is a movie that they have on. They laugh, nay, guffaw explains it more and talk intermittently. I am still busy wiping the mess-‘o’-brine off my face.

I get up. I go to the window. Their voices are crystal clear. I stand by the window in suspended animation. For a good ten minutes. I look at my watch. It is 0330 hours!!!
It is another working day tomorrow. Cannot afford to work my mind up at this unwholesome hour! I go wash my face. I dab some lotion onto it, and go off to sleep again.

Yes, our sincerest laughter, with some pain is fraught. Our sweetest songs are those, that tell of saddest thought.

Write about anything!

Oft’ I have found myself pondering over what to write on. There are times when I pick up the pen to translate an experience into words, while at other times, I write for I have something to tell. Yet, what of the times when I know that I have to write, and there is something within that says I must write? Those are the times when I have been searching for what to write on. The very times that I have stared at the proverbial starlit sky and thought, till the point I arrived at what I sought. Thought, with and without ruth. Without and with struggling-to-get-and-yes-this-is-it humour. Such moments leave me with countless thoughts crossing my mind at lightening speed. Another thought, what does Google say about this??

Google yielded results such as “top topics that people love to read about/on”, favourite food, favourite star, about one’s self, etcetera etcetera.

Dogpile, a next-gen. all powerful search engine yields pages on writer’s block (ah, yes! This is the term I was looking for…I suffer from bouts of writer’s block at times. All writers do. Even the best ones, and the not so good ones.), consumer commentary, personal introspection.

A random sample of friends yielded the following—
They would write about their lives, their current thoughts, about globalization, about love, about relationships, going green, benefits of car pooling, research on animals, planning for the environment, about their business, why do we have to work, why study, the girl/boy I love, politics, corruption, sports, art, courage, war, terror, community, history, adventure, travel, society, social concerns, pets, characters, movies, music, networking, about their work life, cultural diversity, about family and friends.

Personally, anything… just about anything…on anything. How my day was, what goes on my mind, the book I am reading, my passions, the things present then and there…endless possibilities.

Aye! Endless possibilities, all waiting to be grabbed and be written upon. With hope they wait. It befits a writer to write on anything that pleases or irks the mind, the soul. The question here is who is a writer?
The person who writes mind-numbing statements, circumlocutory sentences in a language that goes over your top, or, one who writes beautifully, and so simply, that reading what he writes is a treat to your mind and senses?
Taking heed from this ;), all of us have a writer within. All of us can write. Writing does not mean fabulous pages after pages. It does not even mean out-of-this-world written skills. Writing is at its best when it is simple- when the reader is able to understand what the author wants to say. When the author has clearly and effortlessly said all she wants to. When she makes perfect sense to the masses and has been able to connect with the reader. Remember, countless opportunities and topics await your attention, only if you care to look, and pick up you pen, and more importantly, summon the strength to make a start!

PS: If any of you do happen to read this by happy accident, I owe a part of this to all of you! And even to those who I did not bother with this question…for you may or may not realize, but I have often asked this off you during our conversations.

Thank you...Asmita, Kavita, Kurian, Rekha, Saumya, Meghana. Benefit of doubt to Ajay, Anurag, and Saloni. For I am sure they would have answered if time permitted, else they will, but after this post! :)