Music to me is like the rains. It washes away the dust of everyday life.
There is music in the dripping of rain drops.There is music in the tapping of fingers. There is music in that smile. There is music in every wind that strikes you. Music is the poetry of air.
An outstanding form of expression for when everything is said and done, music prevails.
Like the rest of the world needs air, water and food to survive, so do we need MUSIC. Music that cuts across boundaries and languages. The striking notes of a piano when so beautifully played transform the soul that is wry to a whole new place of paradise-ish experience.
Just like the moonlight lights up a gloomy, cold and dry December night, the music lights up my soul. Millions have always wondered to have a time machine at least for a milli second. And guess what? The Time Machine exists. Just in another form. A form named 'MUSIC'.
Does the form really matter? For instance, we remember the definition of Energy from our schooling, as something that cannot be created or destroyed, just transformed from one form to another. Oh dear, I beg your pardon. I got carried away and digressed, as usual. The very name intrigued me. Maybe the bliss of the time machine is such. Maybe it could not be destroyed. And here it presents itself in the form of Music.
Music fits as a perfect metaphor, whatsoever be it. Mystery, confirmation and a million emotions hidden that makes all the hassle a worthwhile experience. Extremely true and incredibly close is what music to me is.
It soothes my soul when it needs a companion, it intensifies my happiness, it glorifies my thinking and most importantly, it brings out the best in me.
I reckon, wind, rain, music and the flora are the real things. Maybe we're all surreal. And the beauty of these things is keeping us alive. They seem to sink in so magically. Just effortlessly, as if that is where they belong, together forever. The wind, the rain, the trees, the beautiful blossoms and the music. This is it. Nothing more. Maybe it's us who overtook their territory and yet needing them all the time.
When you have been involved with something for most of your life, you come to recognize this: The more you learn about it, the urge to go deep into the roots of the very thing increases multifolds. And to those singers, my life saviors, I owe you big time. The vocal quality of the nations greatest singers, the tonal richness, no permutation and combination of 26 letters could ever express the gratitude I have for such talent.
Love thy music. Love thy divinity. Love thy instrumentals. Love thy musicians. Love thy raagam. Love thy classics. Love thy life.
There is music in the dripping of rain drops.There is music in the tapping of fingers. There is music in that smile. There is music in every wind that strikes you. Music is the poetry of air.
An outstanding form of expression for when everything is said and done, music prevails.
Like the rest of the world needs air, water and food to survive, so do we need MUSIC. Music that cuts across boundaries and languages. The striking notes of a piano when so beautifully played transform the soul that is wry to a whole new place of paradise-ish experience.
Just like the moonlight lights up a gloomy, cold and dry December night, the music lights up my soul. Millions have always wondered to have a time machine at least for a milli second. And guess what? The Time Machine exists. Just in another form. A form named 'MUSIC'.
Does the form really matter? For instance, we remember the definition of Energy from our schooling, as something that cannot be created or destroyed, just transformed from one form to another. Oh dear, I beg your pardon. I got carried away and digressed, as usual. The very name intrigued me. Maybe the bliss of the time machine is such. Maybe it could not be destroyed. And here it presents itself in the form of Music.
Music fits as a perfect metaphor, whatsoever be it. Mystery, confirmation and a million emotions hidden that makes all the hassle a worthwhile experience. Extremely true and incredibly close is what music to me is.
It soothes my soul when it needs a companion, it intensifies my happiness, it glorifies my thinking and most importantly, it brings out the best in me.
I reckon, wind, rain, music and the flora are the real things. Maybe we're all surreal. And the beauty of these things is keeping us alive. They seem to sink in so magically. Just effortlessly, as if that is where they belong, together forever. The wind, the rain, the trees, the beautiful blossoms and the music. This is it. Nothing more. Maybe it's us who overtook their territory and yet needing them all the time.
When you have been involved with something for most of your life, you come to recognize this: The more you learn about it, the urge to go deep into the roots of the very thing increases multifolds. And to those singers, my life saviors, I owe you big time. The vocal quality of the nations greatest singers, the tonal richness, no permutation and combination of 26 letters could ever express the gratitude I have for such talent.
Love thy music. Love thy divinity. Love thy instrumentals. Love thy musicians. Love thy raagam. Love thy classics. Love thy life.
