Today they talked about subjectivity. I heard them.
Today something strange happened as well. I felt my nerves. In a manner that I had never before.
It all goes back to a guy named Brian David. He taught western drums at YMCA at a Delhi centre. A middle-aged man, with bushy mustache, a charming sense of humor and an immense appetite for beer.
Nevertheless, Brian David back in the late 99 early 2000 was it, started a wave in the evening hours of a busy Connaught Place, that was to crash (or maybe so it seems) in a fake Australian urban village.
When we were young, we were oh so old
Dreaming dreams, and living them too
Kissing the silence and the stars above
Within the minds, of “me” and “you”.
Never really knowing, with our fingertips our only brains
The times that were really to come true
We hurt ourselves, then point fingers and laugh
I am still there, though without you.
I heard you and I know we’re where we were
Hey,
That string that runs through the music of a song
U know it right,
How tight does it get at the moment of the greatest tension
It does, doesn’t it?
And what is the point,
To know that it gets “that” tense or to play it while it IS THAT tense?
Words ARE meaningless, just like your music.
Yet how pious can we make them.
What “tangibility” we can see in them!
When did the tangible not become flesh and blood?
When did it not become an idea?
When did the mind not reflect itself to fool ourselves in its “otherness”
In something that “me is not”
Many a times.
And many a times something pure happened at such a fleeting a moment that all we could hear was silence.
The perfection in silence.
Sound has done that too. Though only sparingly.
I still can’t tell in all whether it were the vibrations or the silence in between.
