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Posts Tagged ‘Music’

From Stillness, To Bliss

Thin air was uncomfortably calm and still. Wondered whether it was the calmness that made it morose or was the stillness spelling the gloom. May be it had been lingering in limbo for eternity, setting up this sad calmness and stillness. There was no clue where this thin floating air had been the last night, or for that matter for millions of nights before that, and how far had it travelled since it came into being.

But it was its journey in next few moments that made it immortal, and took it beyond gloom, to consummate it to serene pious heavenly bliss.

It was a hollow dark cylindrical enclosure with an ugly inflated belly. And had this dry old leather piece on it, tied up tightly with ropes all around. And they had two of them. Thin air in it had been suffocating itself to death for a long time now, but somehow every time it managed to not to give up. It had some purpose to serve before fading out. Then there was this big hollow hemisphere looking desolate in company of a long trunk with no head or tail. It had been stuck with the trunk firmly, and had these metal strings flowing all over it. Some thought how good it would have been to have a complete spheroid; it would have at least rolled itself out of this stillness. But that was not to happen, as it would have gathered no moss. Better keep sticking, for it knew it had a job to do. A nervous shy stick was lying unnoticed in one corner. No one knew since when it had turned hollow with holes all over on it. It had lost its stoutness long ago. Wonder if it feared breaking down any point. Thanks to the stillness, it remained as it is for ages, fragile but resolute.

Then one day, the stillness was shattered!

All it took was a fresh breath. It emerged from the depth of the long sticky wind-pipe of an honest true soul, which was drenched in blessings from heaven. It certainly must have got some out-of-this-world virtues that it was showered with these pleasures. It was totally soaked in the bright yellow sun and was shining in the silver cold moon-light, all at the same time, like fresh green grass getting washed off of all its sins in the first rains. In a moment this fresh breath was out of the wet chords and was on its way to immorality, to eternity, to bliss. It struck out as if it always knew what destiny had written for it. It didn’t need a direction; it knew its destination. It started alone, and was spearing its way ahead.

It turned left and saw a breeze joining it. It had just emerged out of a quick tremble of knuckles. The ugly empty cylinder had been hit by a series of splash. The leather on it was hit out of its standstill with a sequence of jolts. And it shivered, and quivered, and finally got in the groove. Breeze echoed within the cylinder for a while and soon found its highs and lows. Next moment, it was flowing with the fresh breath all over the place. Breath and breeze made a synchronization, which was creating their own crests and troughs.

As they were emerging out of their slumber, another gust of excited thin air crashed into them. For a moment, they thought it was a chaos, but soon they realized that they were actually flowing together. Like the white shiny bubbles on a high tide, this gust had its steps going with the breath and breeze. It had taken birth just a moment back – when the stiff strings had got a prick on them. And with it the ugly hemisphere with a trunk was tickled out of its numbness. And that was all that was needed to make set this gust of thin air abuzz. It flowed as if it had no tomorrow, and was already striking the right tones with breath and breeze. Breath had started alone, and now had a rhyming company.

Stillness was shattered, and so was the nervousness of the stick. A spirit had entered it, and made it come alive. A sole spirit entered the stick and got split in many currents, each finding its own exit. But before it left through the hole, it had transformed forever.  It never felt so light and free, and clung on each current as a misty fog hugging shamelessly and tightly the sleepy valleys on winter daybreaks. And as daybreaks turn into day and sun spreads its sparkle, this shameless hug loosens up, only to break up the yellow sunrays into a romantic extend of seven colors over the moist dew. Just like that, as the spirit surged and ebbed on the current, it soon found itself moving in same plain of the breath and breeze and gust, spirit got dispersed in multiple currents and disappeared, only to keep reappearing at the tops and bottoms of crests and troughs.

It was a pleasure to watch this army marching all over the place. It showed perfect discipline and at the same time was free as a bird gliding on its wings and wills. No tone was amiss; no tone was out of order. It rose with same pride as the humility with which it fell. Every stroke was blended as it never was disconnected. It filled up the vacuum, it filled up the gloom, it was all over, and was conquering every inch of that moroseness with sheer pleasure. It was like touch of Midas, everything it touched turned into a heavenly harmony; every small thing it came in contact was set into a delightful rhythm of dance; each tiny particle of any and everything had stepped in tune with it. Nothing could have been more in-sync and satisfying and content to witness. It flowed through effortlessly and finally entered a small tunnel of flesh; and hit a thin wall. With that hit, that wall turned into curtains; and began moving and dancing on the wild wind from jungle. Like the Cuckoo signaling rain and pleasure, the dancing curtains of ear drums signaled its master brain that it had guests. Vocal, Tabla, Sitar and Basuri, all had come together, the rhythm had arrived!

And I heard somebody uttering “MUSIC”!

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