The Playlist – Part II

This is how the creation of this playlist began. Play.

So he decided to reveal the next song on his playlist to me tonight. Again as he narrated the story of how this song became a part of him, he wanted me to hear it. He told me that this one reminded him of a beating heart and as I listened to it, I wasn’t surprised. 

It all began in a room, four walls, an open door..You would need a good sound system he was told and he set it up. The yellow light in his room flickered and went off, so he reluctantly switched on the white. It gave him a sense of inevitability, like this moment was carved out long before he arrived and then the beats began. He held himself together and then the memories flooded through..

Long walks in a hilly town he tried hard to call home, bridges crossed on a cycle below the tall mountains, a quiet childhood spent throwing stones into the Indus waiting for them to reappear. He made me live these moments and then gradually allowed me to infiltrate that room he was in, the night he heard this song. We sat together and listened as others groaned at the heavy beats but discounted it as the cries of a wandering soul. He spoke loudly above the music of the strawberry ice cream he ate in Lonavala with his family, he remembered the sweater he wore that day, the camera that immortalized the moment and the smile on his face. Vivid, strong and powerful. He had his answer, it did not lie in finding it. It quite simply was in remembering it. As we slowly left the room where the song and he became one and returned to the moment i’m writing this, he held my hand one last time and pointed to the table he sat at and to the open word document on his laptop with the heading – ‘Where does man find his inspiration?’ As the beats took over me, he began to type..

‘My inspiration begins with my love lockdown…’ That’s all I could read, we were back and four and a half minutes were up and so was the song. He turned to me and said, “Me narrating and you writing this by experiencing it. Feels mythological, doesn’t it?”

I did not understand what he meant by that, atleast not yet..

The Playlist – Part II

3 thoughts on “The Playlist – Part II

  1. The lights from the sky have been cracking down on the trees and the monitor lizards have scurried away into ground pits. She stands looking down at the crackling white, shining on the wet green leaves; puts all her ammunition into a bag and tip toes out of the room into the gallery where the rains have come gushing in, despite the concrete barriers. Fearing a fall down the stairs in her old shoes, she takes them off, leaves them in the gallery and steps into the stream on the stairs. The rain water… and then it is the mountains whispering silent coldness. Like a song, there are a hundred words about these mountains that now make music to her eyes. She can’t hear it. She walks into the cottage where she came last night and looks at the book, awake by the lantern. The man at the bookshop in the village had said this one will have to be returned. Her watch reads urgency and yet she sits down, reading the same chapter she had read the night before.

    The rain is now inside the cottage, leading the way out. She folds the page where the chapter begins, closes the book and leaves it by the lantern for the man from the village… as her feet find the grey landing below the staircase; she wipes them on the doormat and slips into comfort of ways and walls.

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