You know, the tales of melancholia locked in my soul
caffeinate the aliveness of it, because the swell of
stoicism gives the earth its solidity as it matures. I
make no melodrama of the ages of upheavals, they live
like storms in dark evenings of memorabilia. When I am
old, I can think wiser in retrospect. The hot iron of the
moment can encourage recklessness, like a passion that
only wants the expedition of ejaculation! Sometimes, when
the wine is bottled up for years it becomes more vintage!
I am just prone to believing that tears, even if unexpressed, mark
better at empathy than personal grief. Yes, I cried a lot at
Mum and Dad’s passing, if sorrow can be counted as grief!
Yet, tears also came from the gratitude of the unpretentious
exemplary mentoring that came with Mum and Dad, the music
of scruples handed out like heirlooms. I believe my ancestors also
had the same riches as Mum and Dad. The lyrics don’t change too much,
even if the music does! At first, we had Radio Ceylon playing all
over our little home. I could see it festooning over Dad’s shoulders like
starry snow crystals, as he air-played the violin, as we humbly advented to
Presley, Humperdinck, Neil Diamond, Cliff Richards, in the cocooned security
of Mum and Dad’s arms; and arboreal Bollywood romance, too. I also remember
Mum singing a long time ago – Konkani nurseries. Yes, we were awakened
to the music of the seventies’ Aquareated movement through the blaring console
from our neighbour’s. I always savoured music…but couldn’t master
playing any instrument. So, imagine the frustration I felt when, in my thirties,
I composed music between sleeping and waking but could not transcript it all
as I had no knowledge of musical literature or instrumentation. It didn’t occur
to me that I could tape-record my vocals! But, nonetheless, my soul was `shijing’,
singing, troubadouring in its proclivity to non-existentialism. It is not as if you can’t
have music in your life if you are no guitar genius or are compelled to grow into a
circumstance that teaches you the most gravitas journey-stories-experiences. Your soul
sure can tune to music all the time; as you broadband to universal wavelengths. I’ve always
been `proximus’ to the dimensions, like a moose has music in his horns as well as his ears!
You know, the first sound that Brahma uttered after the initial `Brrr…’ from the freeze of
his aloneness, was the warm “sa re ga ma pa” that literally translates to `All sing to Mum and Dad’!!!!
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