Let a home never be a house

When does a house become a home and more poignantly, when does a home turn into a house. They say every house has a heart and one has got to listen to it very carefully to hear it beat… hear it above the sounds of laughter, din of brooding silence, screams of rebellion, cries of heart break of its occupants. You learn to match your heart beat with that of the space around you. And at that precise moment cement, sand, brick, paint, furniture, fixture ceases to exist. You resonate with that beating heart… your house becomes a home. Memories are born, which hang not just as framed pictures on painted walls, but hang in the air that you breathe. Occupants grow, leave, die but the memories remain, holding onto some other time, refusing to skip a beat, keeping it warm under a blanket of emotions.

A more difficult question to answer is, if at all, when does a home become a house? When do these memories turn sour and the air poisonous? When does the beat fall off rhythm? When do you hear it no more? Perhaps we all know the answer or can atleast hazard a guess.. Perhaps best to avoid the question. Perhaps to each his own.

Not a great feeling

Its is not that I am not trying, perhaps not trying enough, perhaps trying wrong ! Getting self consumed into a downward spiral of dark foreboding. Something needs to give..real soon. Got nothing to write, sketch, sing about !

That's it for now.

The Coalition

From Mohiner Ghoraguli to Bollywood via Bob Dylan. From Classical to Rock via Folk. From Rabindranath to R D Burman via Nusrat Fateh Ali, our musical influences know no boundary, while our preferences represent a seamless co-existence of genres. Our band members comprise of individuals whose background is as diverse as their musical tastes. Students, Professors, Corporate professionals, Engineers, but perhaps whose singular point of congruence is that of an unflinching passion for music.  Befitting therefore, that we call ourselves ‘The Coalition’.

Theseusian Paradox

Over the long August weekend, had the good fortune to watch this seemingly abstract but incredible movie called the 'Ship of Theseus'. The film has been critically acclaimed as one of the finest Indie Indian film ever made and it has won enough awards across the globe to justify the same. It is an educated, thinking man's film as against say a Salman/SRK cash-cowish movie which I am sure appeals to a much-much larger audience base and successfully ropes in the monies fueling the production of more such cash-cowish movies. I am not questioning the intelligence of people who pay to watch these films, perhaps the un-intelligence is what makes these films attractive, like the monotony of EDM music is what makes it appealing.

Anyway coming back to the movie and what it got me thinking on is this - If a company were to replace each and every employee with new employees would it still remain the same company, or if the replaced employees start a new company would it be the original company itself? If a company is more than just its name then what constitutes it? If it is people who create and imbibe so called company culture and philosophy then by apriori reasoning the new company formed by the old employees should indeed be the original company.

No? I welcome your views and counter-opinions.

Orchards wait

As wise men debate,
Deep fried sorrow gets served each morning on our breakfast plate.
And each night
Missiles like fireflies light up the Ramadan sky
While death has a shameless quickie right in front of your eye.
Blood, still fresh and warm, polka dot the white shroud
Of 1371 cold sons whose mothers stand in a crowd
Singing requiem in a high octave
With no flowers laid on their grave.

With payers on their lips, but with their fingers on  the trigger
the orchards wait for times to get better.

Let me know

Will you light a fire and keep those memories at bay when they come visiting me again?
Will you save my soul once I have lied every lie and broken every promise made?
Will you hold my hand comfort me when I have bled every bleeding vein and screamed my lungs soar?
Or will you accuse me,
Hurt, humiliate and curse me, judge me?
Disown me? Leave me?
Tell me,
Would you lay beside me on a naked terrace of the tallest apartment in the city,
Or will you just stand in that corner looking dazed confused and pretty.
Let me know.

Lost and found

Somewhere between the falling rain and those grey high rise city apartments,

Between neon-lit cafes and fly-over riddled city scape,

Between burnt diesel fumes and French perfume,

Between two decades of failed romance and happy marriages

I lost you…

…. And then from behind those ravenous dark curly hairs,

From those smiles and whispered words,

Under the sweet veil of music and nostalgia,

Between friends and a few hours of wine fueled excess

I found you….