88

Dear Readers,

                     It is always so much fun talking about music with friends (more so when they are from different cultures). The moment the other person lets you into his or her world of audio tastes and likes, you get a glimpse of a new world filled with some known matter and some totally unknown particles. One is made to acknowledge the minuscule quantity of songs that one has heard when compared to the galaxies of music genres, artists and albums in the world. 

              Yesterday, I was chatting with a friend in Florida who is a quintessential American with a highly interesting gamut of musical delights. At once, I was transported to an unexplored territory when song after song and band name after band name, we visited the different nooks and corner of music played in US the A. I was simultaneously hearing the songs out on youtube. What a ride it was!

               It started on a random note with Emmylou Harris and Ellie Goulding. The conversation then touched upon some retro stuff including the Queen, Van Morrison and Rolling Stones. This last legendary band was the only strand of familiarity in the monologue that was going on and on to my pleasure. A few songs by Drake, Chemical Brothers and such latest artists were also given some space to complete the platter. Even at the end of it all, my soul yearned for more and more of melody.

               And the caravan is on its way

               I can hear the merry Gypsies play.....

               

87

Dear Readers, 

                     History reading is fraught with pain and agony. There are millions of reasons why we are enticed by the reading or revisiting of our past. Some people feel that when they visit old forts, palaces, or any building lying dormant since ages, they experience a nostalgia which leads them into believing that they had been at that location before. A historical deja-vu so as to say. For highly emotional and sensitive souls, one such attraction is the plight and pathos of some important characters of history. 

                         My heart wails in the dark of the night when I read about Raziya and her rise and fall. I feel like rushing to her grave and offer some prayers for her or offer a wreath of flowers. What all did she have to suffer at the hands of those wretched nobles who could not understand her vision and character. If I happen to use a time-machine and transport myself back to time, the date I would chose would be October 13th 1240.   

         As Raziya would lay soaked in her own blood murdered by some decoits around Kaithal in modern day Haryana, I would pick her up in my arms with the highest degree of reverence and respect due to an Empress and at any personal cost, rush her to the site where her confidant and ally, Yakut, lay buried. I would bury her next to him and then weep my heart out. After all, Razia was the queen of hearts for us, the common people. 

                            kitni dushwar guzar thi woh raah tere jane ke baad, 

                            shab-e vasl mili hai aaj to zara gaur se sun.........