On Music




How do I write on You? For You can only be heard, not read! You are the chirping of birds on a foggy, autumn morning. The quiet stroll by a lake. The tinkling of the wind chimes. A lungful of rain-soaked earth.

You are nostalgia. The intricate patterns on the walls of the palace. The yellow of the lamps lighting the courtyard. The anklets and the tabla. Thunder. The heaviness of the rain. Flute. The desolation and longing of the night.

Words were created to communicate thoughts, feelings. But they can be awry at times, out of context,  superfluous. So, You are the last resort of poets. The freedom of the bauls. The ektara, and the dusty Mother Earth. And the heroic sacrifices for Her. The snare drum. 

You are the heat. Sweat and all the desperation. Ridicule, acid dreams and death. You are the rhythm; the distortion, the double bass. Angst and deprivation. Lust and honesty.

You are the prolonged, vibrating note. Sustenance and contemplation. The quiet, relaxing fun-filled party. Good humor and wine. Saxophone and the hi-hat.

You are love. The hues of sensitivity. Melody of the piano. The tremble upon the first kiss. 
You are detachment. The loneliness of the violin. The stagnant sorrow. 
You are hope. The strumming of the guitar. The orange of dawn. The first footsteps of a delighted baby.

Maaya, me and the Open Fields



This post is a sequel to Maaya, me and this Warped Space-Time which was originally written way back in 2007!



And then, suddenly, in the middle of my journey we met again. I met Maaya. It has been seven years! It took me seven years to realize that I was actually searching for her again. Seven years to realize that she has been with me all this while and that I have always failed to accept that fact. 

“You still carry that note?” she asked.

“I do”, I said. The note actually underwent so much wear and tear that I never knew when exactly it had gone inside my head and stayed. 

“You look calmer now. Lot more peaceful”, she smiled, “So are you at peace with yourself? Could you interpret that word in the note?”

We were walking down a street. It was spring time and the trees had started growing new leaves. The road was tanned by the night, only now starting to gather slight shades of orange. Six o clock in the morning, the sunlight was in the process of gradually tilting from horizontal to oblique. I could see no one walking down that path. Except us. 

“I couldn’t create love, Maaya!” I said, “I tried but I couldn’t”. 

“Love was never for you to create!” she said, “I am surprised that you even tried!”

“I never wanted to try it”, I said, “But letting go was never easy.”

“You wanted it and didn’t want it at the same time!” she turned her head and looked at me, “What you wanted didn’t exist!”

“I wanted it my way”, I said.

“You know that’s selfish”, she said. “And like all other selfish ambitions it's only like a mirage, burning in your heart, that you keep chasing all your life”.

“I agree. I don’t want it anymore”, I said.

Her hand was sensing mine all this time. Now her fingers slipped into the gaps of my fingers. A soft feeling, the feeling of being one, slowly started to seep in.

“And what changed in these seven years?” she asked. 

“I knew why I wanted it”, I said. 

She was silent.

“We all require an identity, Maaya”, I said, “A personal identity. How we see ourselves. If we will stay happy for the rest of our lives being who we are today.”

 “So are you at peace with yourself?” she asked me. 

I didn’t speak.

“Are you happy?” she asked after a pause.

“Yes”, I said.

“How can you be happy if you are not in love?” she said.

I stopped walking and so did she. “I think I am in love, Maaya” I said. 

We looked at each other. I saw a twinkle in her eye. She pressed my hand. And smiled. “I know”, she said, “I could sense”.

“But I am not in love with another person!” I said. This was true. Infact this has always been such a disturbing thought that I always struggled to come to terms with it. My voice shook a bit, perhaps from the immense courage I needed to muster to confess the feeling.

“Look!” Maaya pointed towards the orange of the sky which was now slowly fading into the blue. I saw a group of birds, streamlined into a pattern, flying towards the sun. “They are migrating”, Maaya said, “Aren’t they beautiful?”   

The day broke after sometime. The sun made everything around it warmer. We came across some open fields. I saw a small hillock at a distance. It was green everywhere. We sat down on the grass which was soft as velvet. My hands felt dew. 

Maaya was wearing a frock today. It was white with some petal-designs on it. “You look beautiful!” I said.

“How do you know you are in love?” she looked at me. 

“I can’t stay away from it”, I said. “No matter what I do I always find myself going back to it. Whenever I wish, wherever I wish. Love is all about how much time you are spending together, isn’t it?”

“Maybe you are addicted!” she said.

“Maybe I am”, I said, “But isn’t it all about addiction then?” 

“Yes”, she said, turning her eyes away from me, “Life is too short for frivolity!”

The dew on the grass had started evaporating. I could hear birds chirp now. There was this moistened air of the morning surrounding us. 

“I love solving puzzles, Maaya!” I said. “Puzzles on how things work. Discoveries in the laboratory. That’s what I do for a living now.”

She smiled. Just. “I never asked you to create love!” she said, “You have already created for yourself whatever I wished you would create. You see that hillock”, she pointed towards the distant green, “You may just find your violet rose there if you go now!” She laughed. 

“Shall I get it then?” I said.

“Do what you want to do!” she said with a smirk, looking slightly miffed, and those were her last words before she disappeared again, “One day you will realize the things that you don’t do are the things that you have actually never wanted to.”