The Man Who Became God

The Man Who Became God

Sky full of suns and stars,
World full of life –
Amidst all of these,
I have found,
I – have found my space.
In wonderment –
Thus doth arise,
Arises, my song

On the unbound rhythm,
On destiny’s cradle,
On the ebb & flow of tides,
The Universe swings.
In my veins,
The flow of blood –
Hath flooded in outburst
In wonderment –
Thus doth arise,
Arises, my song

On grasses I have trod
On way to the forest
On fragrance of flowers
Struck with joy –
My heart has rejoiced.
Here lies scattered
Happiness’ gifts
In wonderment –
Thus doth arise,
Arises, my song
I have lent my ears,
I have opened my eyes,
On Earth’s breast
I have offered my soul.
Amidst the known,
I have sought the unknown.
In wonderment –
Thus doth arise,
Arises, my song
Sky full of suns and stars

– Rabindranath Tagore.

______________________________

It is a day of solitary reclusion. Self imposed state of assertion and collapsing inside oneself to have a clearer view of the outside.

Extreme Ways - Moby

Extreme Ways - Moby

Extreme ways are back again
Extreme places I didn't know
I broke everything new again
Everything that I'd owned
I threw it out the windows, came along
Extreme ways I know, will part
The colors of my sea
It's a perfect color me

Extreme ways that help me
They help me out late at night
Extreme places I had gone
But never seen any light
Dirty basements, dirty noise
Dirty places coming through
Extreme worlds alone
Did you ever like it then?

I would stand in line for this
There's always room in life for this

Oh baby, oh baby
Then it fell apart, it fell apart
Oh baby, oh baby
Then it fell apart, it fell apart
Oh baby, oh baby
Then it fell apart, it fell apart
Oh baby, oh baby
Like it always does, always does

Extreme sounds have told me
They held me down every night
I didn't have much to say
I didn't give up the light
I closed my eyes and closed myself
And closed my world and never opened
Up to anything
That could get me at all

I had to close down everything
I had to close down my mind
Too many things could cut me
Too much can make me blind
I've seen so much in so many places
So many heartaches, so many faces
So many dirty things
You couldn't even believe

I would stand in line for this
It's always good in life for this

Oh baby, oh baby
Then it fell apart, it fell apart
Oh baby, oh baby
Then it fell apart, it fell apart
Oh baby, (oh baby), Oh baby (oh baby)
Then it fell apart, (fell apart) it fell apart (fell apart)
Oh baby, (oh baby,) oh baby, (oh baby)
Then it fell apart, (fell apart), it fell apart, (fell apart)
Oh baby, (oh baby), Oh baby (oh baby)
Like it always does, (always does), always does (always does)

******
- Moby.

Music

Music

Here's a thought.

Music ain't supposed to mean a thing. Infact it isn't supposed to mean at all.

Imagine.

An early morning breeze over Juhu beach; grains of sands sprinkling – following your steps and the breeze does hum…

Even the thought of sweltering Mumbai summer fails, emerging din and bustles of the 'maximum' city fades, eyes dilate onto an invisible speck on the southern horizon of the extended bay - where the palm trees arise like brushes kissing across the sky lilting from darkness of night to twilight of dawn and all possible words fail to explain. What?

That. A catchy little humming on your lips… ho, hum, hmm…

Music is nothing, dear. Maybe it's more the moment - maybe it's not.

It's good that I never got to know the technicalities.

*****

(Dedicated to the 'one who sits aglow, amidst yellow' ... for music's sake.)