An old man, bent over, sits alone in a chair , in a dark, dark room .The evening sun is setting. There is a mellow orange hue that seeps in through the heavy curtains in a single streak…He is playing the violin. His tune melancholy, deep, screeching pain, softly eating into my heart. Lamentations of life.. Forgotten stories, never entirely forgotten. Pushed back. .Pushed deep. Left alone….
I look back at Life…I remember the joyous music The Opera House in the Austrian castle…And then the Opera show at Dusseldorf…I remember how I put my head on your shoulder and you put your head on mine, as we rode that rickety old bus back from Pune.. Both of us were singing Kishore Kumar songs to each other. Life was a celebration then. No matter where. No matter how. And those times are a celebration of memories now….
“Dukhi man mera, Sunoh mera kehna, Jahan nahin chaina, Wahan nahin rehna”
And you said, or rather sang, “There is no point staying where there is no peace”
How love breaks up into tiny pieces that pierces the heart. A revelation That love is never enough There is so much more that you need for keeps Eyes open, Heart crumbles Life reveals itself….
And flows…. Life flows… sometimes like the gurgling stream, sometimes like the winding river, sometimes like the eternal ocean Meadering through trials and tribulations till it settles Into a trance… Meditation…Looking back on life in a deep reverie…
Where the only sound that resounds are those of love…in its myriad shape and hue.. Moments of love, memories of love, looking back on love, looking ahead with love.. An incantation only of love
For Hate is a lie and will crush you. In this Convocation of emotions, May Love preside within us all.