There are so many things that make our childhood days memorable – it could be something that you shared with your friends, a game that you played the most during summers, a hike, a silly insignificant incident that makes no sense to most except a few or it could just be you troubling the night watchman by making him believe he saw a ghost; for me and a few of my friends, besides all this, it was mostly all about the stars!
The Universe always had intrigued us friends. Every late evening, we would rush to the terrace with a telescope which a kind physicist living nearby was more than happy to lend. We would look through the skies identifying constellations, naming stars for future lookup. Most of us hadn’t yet been exposed to the internet, and books were still objects that a young mind could easily recognize and appreciate. So, we would spend hours studying star maps taken from various books and magazines and try to map the stars at various times during the year. The urge to understand more about the Universe was so gripping that we made it a point to view every astronomical event that would take place. We truly thought that the stars were ours for the taking.
Over the next year or so, things changed. We were slowly growing up and were also growing out of celestial objects and their myths. Our stargazing meets started fading away into the horizon. A few of us took to music, a few took to dance, a few took art and almost all of us gave up on the stars. I guess for most of us it was a time when we were looking for our calling, and clearly, the heavens weren’t anywhere in our sight. Stargazing was, after all, just another “activity”.
But something very important had happened during those times we all had spent together. We had learnt at a young age what it was like to look for something in the dark for hours and not finding anything. We could be patient when there was moonlight blocking the skies and the stars weren’t visible. We didn’t know what existed out there, but always believed we’d find something new and interesting. We knew it pained a lot to focus and get a target in sight on the telescope. We had known it was not easy finding stars in the sky and to keep looking for them throughout the night was an altogether different task - a task which was difficult but definitely not impossible.
I guess stargazing taught us more about staying grounded than anything else. I guess it made us gaze across our little universe with a different outlook and see things in a tad bit different a light. I can only hope and wish that we keep being reminded of how it is not always easy to achieve things. That may probably make us appreciate and understand the endeavors of others too.
And though out of practice since some time now, I’m sure we can still recognize many of the stars we spent hours looking for – and, oh yeah, where to find that ridiculously and treacherously hidden Andromeda Galaxy! ;)
There is this thing about the rains. The lack of a productive atmosphere can make you probe deep into your thoughts and search for memories which are either hidden by effort or simply cast away, branded as unworthy or unimportant.
People – the ones that make our memories are so accessible these days. Keeping in touch is no more a pain, seeing someone far..far away is a piece of cake and knowing “What’s on your mind?” is usually just a few clicks away..
And yet, we long for that one offline meeting, that one long drive with pals, that long jamming night with only the chilly air and a thousand beautiful notes to fill the void of the darkness, the smile on your friend’s face when you gather for his surprise party which hardly ever is a surprise, the smell of the grass in the college garden when you walk towards your classes, the long talks which hardly mean much, a stop on a bridge overlooking a river which is probably the most beautiful in this world – made beautiful by the company of people you are with.
It is good to find such rainy day moments when you can savor what you had, and what you did – for we might just get pointers on building the way we’d like this day to be remembered, and probably be successful in making a few good memories of us friends. Again!
But this morning, the old Knight stood wearily. The sun was on time, and so was the world – only, it was moving a bit too fast for him. The horses which once used to give in to his whistle now chose to gallop right past his tattered self. He was about to retreat to his blissful heaven when one of the stallions came by and stopped before him. The black horse was nothing less than magnificent. His sparkling eyes revealed a surge of strength that the onlooker recognized quite easily. Yes, the stallion was beautiful. And though beauty was not strange to this old man, the beast, he sensed, was something more than what he saw and deciphered.
The old man just stood there. He was probably trying to think what to do next. A yard away was his present – a hill top which was his heaven or probably his doorway to the same, and in front of him was his past, a past he could never forget and which he yearned to live yet again.
He was reluctant. What could he have done to be faced with this bizarre choice? Did he not say his prayers right? Was this one of God’s anomalies or was this just His way of testing his mettle all over again? No, that couldn’t be right! He had proved himself to faith and humanity a long time ago. Yes, a long time ago. But was it long enough? Could the world have changed so fast? Had this strange pace got to every living soul? Or was it just his age getting to him? Man is a fickle being, and the Knight knew this. He had served many not to know this. Alas, the people he served took fancy in ruling over lands with a mind full of zest and a reckless compassion which signified an emptiness far too mean than his present plight. “Ah, my present ! “ He reminded himself of how he hated it. So, what was this? Was it God’s Will or just a few deeds undone? Even if it was so, was it not God’s job to forgive and forget? Nay, God left this to Man a very long time ago.
Forgive and Forget. It seems man did the latter too frequently and the former, seldom. He had done the same. He too had been a man. And, what a man he had been! Probably it was this that led the Stallion to his feet. Was this his redemption? Was this God’s way of saying "Godspeed"? He gazed across the fields, still thoughtful.
Then he saw the fickleness of it all. His present was just an echo of his fears – fears he chose to encourage when he rode through nights of pain and suffering.
“God’s play” he thought with a wry smile. He nodded at the gentle beast and took to the reigns. And then he rode with his Past, away from his present and toward his Future. A lot remained to be explored. Age was too much a price to pay for the wonders in store for him. All he needed to do was to gallop ahead.
And he did.
western music – or so they thought. One of them was quite the talker. I can safely say he was THE talker. He commenced the discussion and was kind enough to end it too. According to him, western music was “a genre of mixed genres”. I really fail to understand what he meant by that, but well, he was the expert.
According to the expert, Pop music was crap. All the major Pop bands of the 80’s were just a bunch of cigar smoking, long haired, lethargic weirdos who had no clue what music was all about. All they could do was burst their lungs with smoke and put the minds of the people on fire. Pop was bad and so was Rock. I learnt something very interesting that day, Rock bands consisted ONLY of those head banging idiots who were just a step above their fellow pop wannabes. They too, according to this expert, had no clue what music was all about. (Wow. What a realization.) And of course, Western music could NEVER succeed the Indian form of music. It was way too corrupt for that. Although the expert was clueless about the total number of swaras in western music, he was sure there were EIGHT in Indian classical music. They were Sa, Re, Ga, Ma, Pa, Dha, Ni and (obviously) Sa, and these sounded much better than the ones the finrangis played on the guitar.
Not only was western music crap, it also supposedly appealed differently to different kinds of people. Now let me clarify what he was trying to, or maybe I’ll just put it in his own words – “Guys who listen to boy bands like Westlife and Boyzone are not normal! They are the kind who like other men!”
Whatever.
It is such people who mar the very idea of music. These people belong to that clan of pseudo musicians who can go to any extent to prove their point.
One must realize that western music has its own flavor and is supposed to be enjoyed differently. Indian Classical Music has a rich heritage, and is definitely one of the best forms of music in the world. But that does not mean Rock is crap, or even Pop for that matter.
I believe there is a certain Universality to music as an art. And many of us fail to realize this. Why cant we appreciate both these forms? It is not uncool to listen to a person playing Raag Khamaj on the Violin on Doordarshan. Similarly, there is nothing offensive about Shakira performing at a music awards function.
I guess this discussion can go on and on since this duality of thought prevails in almost all spheres of life today.
With all due respect to the ‘revered’ expert’s thoughts, I humbly disagree with almost everything he said. I guess I’ve already told you all why, but the main reasons are :
