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No, Vasundhara is not my real name. I am breaking it in for a friend!

Thursday, October 29, 2009

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.

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