I write this as the world around me sleeps and their rhythmic breathing is echoed into the darkness of the night, as a lazy dog roams to find his dinner, as the rain outside tenderly kisses the Earth and as my typing gently teases the silence that rests at this time of the day. I write this as I try to find myself amid dreariness that has come to become synonymous with a life that’s getting no where. I write this as a pair of eyes look beyond the nimbus to find the dear old moon and as my mind wanders to attain the unattainable. I write this as I realise (on children's day), that the child within me has not died. I write this because I feel nice. It’s the feeling you get when you take the wrapper off the candy. It’s the feeling you get when you smell fresh coffee. It’s the feeling you get when you realize, in a moment, that life is simple. And beautiful. It’s like a dollop of butter melting on your warm toast. Definite and free flowing. From definite to free..towards liberation. Life is past and present. Life is present and future. Life is a play. And a song.
Mokshamu galadaa bhuvilo jeevan..
Muktulu gaani vaaralaku
Life is a Confluence. Of God and you. Of your soul being closely intertwined with those two lines of that divine Carnatic song that soothes you utterly discomposed psyche. Thank you Bombay Jayashri for bestowing the world with 'Confluence of Elements'. An album so aptly named. Confluence of elements. So abstract..so true..about the graceful dance that life is. Waltzing away into the inner core of your being. In perfect harmony with everything around you. A voice so soulful that it breathes meaning and leaves you feeling slightly less solid..tranquil and peaceful..like she just drove you through a maze..to the pot of gold..leaving you covered in this invisible, intangible blanket of happiness..like you lost all your woes..and in the very next fleeting moment found them..so much so that it made you cry..
'irakkam varamal ponadenna karanam en svami'
To Jayashri Ramanathan..for being sanity...for being the ultimate glowing ethereal-ness...for being the realm of almost-reachable liberation...for Moksha
'does not music
light a spark
fan a flame,
set a soul on fire'
'the fragrance of the flower
the song of the bird
the rising of the waves
the flaming of the fire
the swaying of the leaves
does the wind ever wonder
why it blows?'
'and the raindrop flows into the river
and the word into the note
and the river into the sea
and the note into the raga
and the sea into the ocean
and the music into the soul
can the raindrop remember
where it lost itself
and where it found itself?'
PS: Pardon my audacity, but Jayashri scores where Subbulakshmi fails. It's daftness on my part that I fail to appreciate the beauty that is M.S.
PPS: Yes dear friends, the Axl-Gilmour-Waters-Cobain-Sinatra-Bono-Norah slave has surrendered to Indian Classical :)
