Of songs and memories

Old songs are horses on which memories ride. Nothing can make you nostalgic as much as old songs. As a child, I have often watched older people become misty eyed and have a strange expression on their faces when they talked about old songs they had heard when they were young. The simple mind of a child never understood why seemingly boring songs were so close to their heart. Now I do...

There is a song associated with every memory, with every loved one. Why do you love a particular song? Because you might have attached an emotion to it. You might have identified yourself with the song or just appreciated what it said and applied to yourself. I was watching this program on some tamil channel, it was a program about the great maestro, Illayaraja and his songs. The host asked the group of people assembled there which song evoked their emotions and why? All of them replied with some song or the other and when asked why that particular song was their favourite, they had a memory associated with it. It was a song their parents loved. It was a song they sang when they were in love. It was a song that the entire family put their heart in...

I have many such songs. There are so many songs me and my room mates have sung together in our graduate days in the hostel. Now when I hear the songs, I find the tunes not so great, the lyrics ridiculous , but I do not stop singing to it and chuckling at the days spent together. One of my close friends and me had this habit of singing to songs and we both remembered the same section of a song and la-la-la ed the same section and giggle silly about it.

Songs have funny moments with them too.. As you grow older, the old songs remind you of your carefree youth and the time when relations were ideal and friendships were beyond the limits of formalities.

So , sing an yesteryear tune, hum and remember the lovely memories , sing the favorite tunes of loved ones.. Sing, for the sound of music is the  essence of existence.

My dream

I have always had a dream, or rather a dream wish and the only one probably and it resurfaces when I read the travel blogs. I started following the Bus to Antarctica blog and today I read an excerpt of " The Nano diaries". Now coming to my dream, I would love to traverse all around the world, without any specific plans, but go on a long journey, chronicling my experiences, people whom I would meet, muse on the differences and similarities, go on different terrains.

Some day in my life, I would want to go on a very long journey....

Unblooming

Behind sound proof walls

in air conditioned rooms,

Looking the world pass

through see thru windows,

Decorated walls,

Painted hallways...!

Comfort within,

Life fails to bloom...!

Cocoon..!

As I walked alone..
as is my routine,
I switched on my ipod and let the tunes flow
took my cell phone out and started dialling to a friend,
Feeling unbearably restless,
cursing my loneliness...!!

Something woke up in me...!

I shut my ipod...
listened to the songs of the winds..

I raised my eyes towards the blue sky
and the green leaves ..
and the crows and sparrows gleefully pecking at the grass...!

I shut my cellphone
to let relations be themselves,
not to pester any for my sake..!

I sat in a corner, lush
and let the breeze caress me...

I let reason envelop me...

I shut myself
from this world
to be one with nature
away from material...

and this is how I am from now..!
The butterfly prefers the coccoon...!

A refreshing feel

I had been on a movie marathon.. Watched three movies on three consecutive days...!

Vinayakudu, Pasanga and Vennila Kabadi Kuzhu..

The three films had a simplicity in them that gave a very pleasant feel that the glossy richly made movies cannot give..

Shot in locales that were very much India, the latter two movies said the unsaid about the country and the life there...!!

The hero(es) and heroine(s) were the next door people whom you can see everyday... People who looked like you, talked like you and responded like you...

The heroines were dressed in everyday clothes which made them look more beautiful than the ladies in the skimpy clothes , dripping glamour and skin show which can invite appreciation from a male eye and a jealous appreciation from a female eye...

They talked of the simple pleasures of life , romance in unromantic settings, of everything in nothingness...

The movies showed India as it is.. not like the slumdog millionaire which shows India but only the dirt and the poverty.. these were also stories of poverty and wants.. but beautifully directed....

The eyes talked of subtle romance, not the bodies.

There was love, romance, action, comedy ( ingredients of commercial thrillers) but as they are in real life...!

A refreshing feel they leave behind.. an yearning for the country left behind...!

Masterpiece me...!

I am a diiferently shaped piece

in a shop of dolls....

yet I am a masterpiece....

Ignore me the less aesthetic

ugliness clouds their eyes...

Some appreciate me

marvel at the mind of the maker

but choose a beautiful doll...

I wait for the intelligent one...

My maker despairs as

I stand unsold,

Unique I am , and I know

I may not be a doll everyone clamours for

But I am a Picasso

Less understood, but I am worth more....!

In love with him

As the rays of dawn touch me,
he nears me
like the soft breeze
and touches with his gentle hands....

Puts his cheek against mine
in a silent kiss
Waking me up
awakening my instincts...

I hold him closer to me
in an embrace
Not wanting to let go...
and he smiles back , his dimple
making him look more beautiful...


Those memories trouble
The sweet innocence of my little nephew

waking me up every morning...
waking the mother in me...

I miss him...!