Friday, March 23, 2007

"The music in my heart I bore,

Long after it was heard no more"

She is 3 years old. Sitting on her Daddy's knee while he sings to her one of her favorite songs. Dagor, dagor chokhey keno kajol dile.
She asks him, "Daddy do I have dagor dagor chokh?" He says yes.
And she believed him.

She is on a school trip to Chandipur. She holds hands with her best friend as they listen to Ali Haider's Purani jeans aur guitar for the first time.
And she still misses her friend when she hears the song.
Bas yaadein, yaadein, yaadein reh jaati hain
Kuchh chhoti, chhoti, baatein reh jaati hain
Bas yaadein..

She has just started college. She meets a guy with two major misconceptions. One, that he is in love with her. Second, that he is the next Kishore Kumar. He sings Hume tumse pyar kitna at a college fest.
She has disliked every song sung by Kishore ever since.

She is trying to pay attention in class. Her friend leans over and whispers, "Don't you think Diwana hua badal is the most romantic song ever?" She starts humming the song and agrees.
She still thinks so.

She is 21 years old. She thinks Bangla Adhunik is nyaka (pretentious) and Rabindrasangeet is ek gheye (boring). She drops by her friend's house and meets a bunch of guitar-strumming, convention-defying, jhola-carrying young guys who write their own songs, compose their own music and redefine the word 'style'.
Chura liya hain tumne jo dil ko. She is in love.

It is strange how we associate songs with specific memories. Certain places, special people, a specific moment in time.....all tied down to a particular melody, a tune, or a song. And how we always remember that person, the place, the moment, each time we hear the song. Good memories and the not-so-good ones. Happy memories and sad ones. Of days spent playing in the afternoon sun while the radio played on somewhere in the background. Of the whole family gathering around the TV to watch Chitrahaar. School days and college. Growing up and falling down. First crushes and crazy infatuations. Falling in love and getting heartbroken. Making new friends and losing some more. Rain drenched evenings and the heady smell of jasmine. Morning ragaas. Evening commutes. Darjeeling. Santiniketan. Moonlit nights. Prem (love), biroho (separation) and the whole nine yards. Memories. Nostalgia. And above all, of days gone by.

And talking about song related nostalgia, I'd like to direct you to two posts that echo similar sentiments. The first one was this post which I totally loved. Every song. Every phase in life. Every sweet memory. Beautifully captured. And then the more recent one that talks about the same music associated nostalgia.

And if you are looking for a scientific explanation you should read this.

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Monday, March 19, 2007

Smile and the world smiles with you. Cry and you cry alone.

I think grief is a very private emotion. Unlike most other basic human emotions which find comfort in expression. Like joy. Or happiness. Or good cheer. Which you can share. Spread around like some magical shimmering fairy light. Or say anger. And hatred. You let it out. Express your self and feel relieved. And then there is love. Which always needs to be expressed and shared for it to grow and bear fruit.

But grief is in a different league altogether. Because it cannot be shared. Or expressed. Or understood by anyone else. And you live it everyday. Through broken dreams and faltering faith. Through unshed tears and dying hope. And yet, I don't want your pity. Or words of comfort saying it will be alright. Which is why I want to be left alone in my grief.

Tread softly because you tread upon my dreams.

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