The Fine Line

 

Browsing through my album, I came across this picture that I'd clicked during one of my expeditions into the wilderness. I looked at it and was lost in the breathtaking mystic aura that I had experienced when I'd come across that place. However, my brain immediately took me through a lane of memories, places and emotions that had nothing to do with that expedition but those with which I could associate it from my earlier memories. All of this happened in a second and I could also hear a song that I remembered with this emotion of reliving that mystic aura. Now the song is stuck in my head and already in loop even when I am not listening to it. Even as I remember the other associated moments of that particular day or year or decade, the loop expands and engulfs several adjoining memories. What remains is a remembrance of how I felt during those moments rather than what had actually happened.

Accentuated by the fact that it is already night(for a night owl it does make things more intense) with brain cells being hyperactive, I am in a trance that might(or might not) subside until I fall asleep or plunge into the waves of insomnia and another world of brimming creativity and imagination.

Perhaps the earliest memory of music in my mind(or any mind) could never be remembered distinctly. I am sure none of us remember that earliest memory but we remember the effect it had on us. It has the power to heal us, hurt us, enrage us or even calm down all those impulses. All I can remember is the immense power associated with this mysterious force called music.

Interestingly, I have known more people without really knowing them through their music. However, if you ask me what's the most personal aspect for a person to share, I'd say it is the playlist that they switch to when they crave to be close to themselves. Trust me there are songs that people would always enjoy or sing in solitude without revealing them to anyone else. It is that private space that cannot be intruded. It is safe and vulnerable at the same time. People do not want to share that easily and you can never know a person's complete collection of music with their numerous background stories and memories. Also, nobody else could associate with a particular tune in the same way as somebody else would. A melophile lives inside each one of us.

That being said, I also believe that finding people who introduce you to new music is important. It is such an infinite arena that it will never be enough even when one listens to new music everyday, for it has a blend of unknown cultures, histories and lands along with their stories.

Above all, it is not confined to language barriers. All you need is an open mind and a listening soul and it can show you an unexplored multiverse may be turn you into a melomaniac. That's an undefined line that anyone could cross and come back or stay there. Thanks to the beauty of being in several places at once with one's imaginative abilities. I am sure you've experienced that.

While I ranted out about the possibilities, that song is still playing in my head and taking me back to that place in the mist with the chilling wind, silence and the moist air that I can still breathe in feeling the dampness of barren trees surrounded by green moss. The whispers of the wind are creeping into my silence more than ever and I can still relive that experience. Perhaps, I have now crossed that fine line of being a melophile to becoming a melomaniac until I fall asleep.

@halfvintagepages

The Woman In Red

The woman in black has been staring at the dark reflections of the city skyline, perhaps trying to find a silent hurricane of the anxiety and fears that so many people who often visit this place encounter, beneath the frozen layer of stagnant water. For the umpteenth time she seems to have lost track of what remains amiss despite her efforts to calm down her reverberating pulse. With every beat an echo of submerged fear of loss and failure resurfaces to send waves of doubts about her own answers, dreams and determination. How else could she have justified everything that seems incomplete in a life that is perfect?  Caught in an infinite loop, her attention is diverted to the glaring red signal from a beacon afar as it gives a transparent view of the reflections on the surface piercing into depths beneath the waves. Everything that had been engulfed shimmers for a while before it turns black again. She wonders perhaps this is how those waves swallow the anxiety of everyone who has been here. Perhaps she had been too harsh on herself owing to expectations from others, but mostly from herself. The fear of failure isn't what holds people back, who knows it is the fear of facing oneself being too judgemental. Now with the passing beats, her pulse becomes normal. A weight has been lifted off from her heart. The depths are never visible to anyone else. It is the superficial and transient persona of performance that is subject to judgement. But why on earth should it considered viable to certify something that runs much deeper and holds enormous power to sail through harsh hurricanes? With another glaring signal from the beacon, the woman in black has turned red this time, inside out. She releases her fears into the waves, aware that her strengths and capabilities run through her, make her breathe and cannot be subjugated by contradictory flashes  of performance adjudged superficially.

@halfvintagepages