A song from a mixed CD made for me by a boy — oh, about three years ago. (He was a nice boy, but the last time we spoke was about three years ago as well. I keep in touch with fewer than five people at any given point to time, so the people on the periphery often fade away. When a name pops into mind all of a sudden once in a while, I’m left wondering, whoa, so what happened to this person! Like I’m wondering now.)
Another song without a video, I’m afraid. Instead there are lyrics, if that is any comfort. Although the lyrics of this song aren’t really difficult to comprehend.
I left the CD lying around for months, didn’t have time to listen until one day I uploaded all its contents into my iPod and left for a long two-months-in-two-cities a trip, because when one travels one must always have new music. It was a stuffy peninsular summer. I had just wrapped up with one city (and all it entailed), and was on a night-long bus journey through the hills and highways of the Western Ghats. I was alone and tired and burning with fever and fighting with guilt and disappointed with myself and so, so relieved. Everyone in the bus was asleep, even the constantly whimpering babies. The lights were turned out so I couldn’t see their faces, and I could permit myself the luxury of imagining that this busful of strangers weren’t there — only me. Outside my window the night was vast and dark and filled with countless stars. Never before (and never again) had I felt so small and devastated and free.
The thing is that nearly all songs remind me of someone or the other, my music collection being built almost entirely from donations and recommendations. My people/place/sound/feeling associations are usually keen, so there are hundreds of songs with bits of history attached to them. It gives me the privilege of choosing the one among them I’d prefer to archive.
So… this song that I have of late come to love. This particular Youtube video. (It’s not a real music video, I suspect the song doesn’t have one.)
Given to me exactly a month ago so I’m not sure if it qualifies as a reminder, but this song will continue to remind me of the person, the moment, the things that went through my head at that point and the little knot in my stomach — that was a memory point being created and I’m usually never incorrect about such things.
Of the little ironies of the song and the situation, I’m sure a mostly-public blog is not the best place to ponder.
So, yesterday I found a different entertainment and duly forgot to post. So this is for Day 3: A Song That Makes You Happy, another song that I’ve loved since forever and always wanted to put up on the blog. I adore the video too — its sunshine and grandeur and Patrick Monahan’s heartmelting smile.
Day 4: A Song That Makes You Sad calls for this one, which is an awfully potent and stomach-curdling song. The cadaverous vocals, the guitar crashes, everything go into making it just a little worse. A song to kill your joy even on the brightest day.
And this is probably going to be my favourite post in this series. :)
It occurs to me that lists of least favourite songs never get populated unless one is made to endure a not-so-pleasant song against their wishes, probably for long stretches of time, probably over and over again. I’m sure I’ve heard worse songs than this but I do not remember them; I haven’t heard them long enough to despise them as long as I’ve had the faculty to change the station, channel, or walk out of the room. (Ridiculously bad songs, on the other hand, are a different league altogether — they’re cringeworthy, but everyone loves them. Tell me you don’t simply adore a hardcore Himesh masterpiece, really?!)
This song, however, had been played on loop at a Saraswati Puja pandal two houses from mine all evening and night the year the movie was released (I forget which). I don’t think my ears (and brain) ever had a more tortured time.
Not to mention that the song is equally painful visually, featuring two of the triad of Excruciatingly Bad-Looking Bollywood Heroes (the third being Govinda; I’m not going into the one-film-wonder type smalltimers) and Bipasha Basu in one of her ugliest phases. Anyway, this is one of those posts that I don’t want to expand to great lengths. Enjoy the song. :/
Do the blind dream of rainbows? The other day I dreamed of friends coming over and making me drag out my purple bicycle; and then we cleaned up the rusty old thing, filled up the tyres and got it into the streets after seven-eight years or such; and then I’m remembering the thrill of cycling, the exhilaration of zooming through the intricate lanes in my locality with the wind on my face, and how much better it is than walking under the scorching noontime sun, and how you never sweat and your shirt never sticks to your body, and the pleasant ache in your legs; and then Baba buys me a new bicycle because I’ve really outgrown the old purple bike and because even the best — the really fast and sleek — bicycle is so much cheaper than a car; and then I’m cycling, cycling, cycling, swerving and turning just for the pleasure of it; travelling through bazaars and shady lanes that I haven’t visited since I was a ruffianly schoolkid with classes done by 11:45 AM and nothing to do before lunch. When I woke up in my bed — sweat-damp and uncomfortable because the day was breaking and the heat building up — my brain was still streaked with the residue of that happiness, and I wanted to go up to Baba and ask for the new bicycle right now before it sunk in, slowly, slowly, that I had never learned how to ride a bicycle. I cannot. (The old purple kiddie bicycle — which I loved but could never control — had eventually rotted away and been sold at a junk shop, after I gave up and grew older and found other things to be interested in.) I’ve never driven a bicycle, I’ve never driven a motorbike, I’ve driven nothing but a small car and the sensation of that is quite different. Where from then that impossibly vivid dream, that I keep longing to return to but I’m afraid I never will?
The last post feels duly privileged for the attention of the weather gods, who have ensured that the ugly May weather has made a vengeful comeback. Well, maybe not. But I roasted in the heat all of yesterday the day-before and missed the brief early evening shower because just then I happened to be inside a mall. Ironic, what? This heat wave burns away all delusions and I can see clearly all the studies that haven’t been done, all the work that hasn’t materialized, basically the freedom’s-just-another-word-for-nothing-left-to-lose state of mind. I feel devastatingly free. My thoughts go where they want (mostly in the gutterwards direction, I can’t deny). I cook a little in the mornings, paint a little in the evenings, just mess around with ingredients and watch them turn into other things. Icecream, ghugni, chicken curry, the odd little sketch. Reading books that aren’t on the syllabus and articles and comics on the internet. I got happily buzzed on a can of beer the other evening (ain’t I amazing?) and reconnected with an old friend whom I think I really love (or maybe I’m just remembering the beer talking) while we hung out with a couple of new friends. Reminiscing old college days, back when we were cooler and slightly less worried about the future. Back when we’d encountered fewer shitty people and subsequently were more hopeful about the state of the world. Okay, maybe not so morbid. It was actually a rather awesome day, although what we were doing was exchanging notes for the upcoming exams and got very badly ripped by the xeroxwallah and decided to skip a party afterwards. Life is just that strange.
I’ve decided to fill up the 30 Day Song Challenge anyway, even though this is nearly halfway through the month so I’m missing out a bit of the fun. But I’ll never be punctual enough to begin it on the first of any month, so what you gonna do? Anyway, so Day 1: Your Favourite Song is this:
Obviously, it’s difficult to select one favourite song, but this one comes to mind because I’ve had it with me for a very long time and it has always made me feel spoken for, so it stands up rather well to the ravage of age.
And now this means you can expect a post tomorrow, and the day after, and the next day and so on, until I get bored. This is really a rather boring meme in the insipid, unimaginative American kind of way.
Mimi Mondal 
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