A lack of color, A waltz for life.

I “had” forgotten what magic music holds. Its quotidian existence in my life made me lose appreciation for it and just like I let most people existing in my mundane cosmos – mostly by default and not profound choice – fade away from my mind while maintaining their presence in body, I allowed music to do the same despite my warranted belief that I held it in higher esteem than anything mortal for if anything or anyone could, it would be music what might save me one day.

“From whom” you ask? Mostly from myself. You can destroy your life all at once or one day at a time. I, my friends, as you would agree am a rational being with all my sensibilities apparently intact would fall in the latter category since it would be ludicrous for my consciousness to do all the damage in one go. It wouldn’t go with the mature persona I exude now, would it?

So as I continue… I remember building it from scratch, tune by tune, hour by hour that I spent in the darkness of a disconsolate room refusing to apply myself in chores that would probably be of instant yet ephemeral consequence. The ceaseless idyll it evoked in me signified greater charm for my then nascent nous, my adolescent intellect.

I am an adolescent no more. I have grown with the sound but unfairly left its essence behind while I tried to keep up in the rat race.

“Its the price I have to pay”, you say? I am forced to concur… apparently, it seems so and I don’t have a resilient argument against it.

But then there is the deceptive “had” in the first line. For I have been revived and brought back to life. And it feels good to be awake again after an involuntary slumber that was chronic in its presence yet acute in the pain it caused.

“Who saved you then?” would be your next inquiry and rightfully so.

Like I said, if anything it would be the music.

 

~ by neha mehta on March 5, 2009.