I must state here without any intention of resentment that one really cannot afford to disagree with the supersonic speed with which the modern day moves by to let in a tomorrow that doesn't seem to decelerate as we get involved with it. Certain changes were allowed by us to take place and affect our lives big time with unanimity, albeit hesitantly. They were absolutely imperative, and in absolute tandem with our collective consciousness and philosophies of life that have changed in tone with time.
As I read the words in the fluorescent screen, I leaned back to ponder, as a music lover, over how the relevance of one's favourite choice of music has changed over the years, and about the span of its existence in a present day that seems to rush by taking us along with it so much so that one is caught to be puffing breathlessly at times. Yep. There's no denying the underlining statement that so much change has taken place in our lives over the last fifty years,, and how we all too have been parts of the phenomenon of change.
In that context, one which can be perceived to pose as a threat of a haunting potential, some other changes around melodies of one's choice are noticeable, and might point out that one is truly ageing and not growing up anymore (even if someone still has a suppressed desire to think so -- better kept as suppressed, because if not, one can be charged with blasphemy)
The order in which one's choices were placed in the list of favourite songs has changed. No comments and sincere apologies if such a list, if present at all once upon a time, itself has disappeared forever, for somebody.
The songs that used to be/still are hummed under the shower or on the commode have changed. No comments if the exercise has become extinct, for somebody. The exercise of humming I mean.
The songs that used to errupt free, willing to be hummed when one used to suddenly discover himself to be alone at home for a considerable period of time, have changed. Sincere apologies if the institution of the same 'home' has ceased to exist, for somebody.
The commonest tunes that used to be whistled in the most uninhibited fashion during one's personal set of morning rituals on a daily basis around the act of shaving (specifically : cheeks, above the Adam's apple, chin, and around the mouth) and particularly during auto-reflection in the mirror about the cleanliness of the process, has changed. No intent to disregard a possible situation where one has forgotten how to whistle. And sincere apologies to be out of context altogether for the fairer group of sexes of our species.
The tunes, from a nowhereland far away, from a far away radio with the worst acoustic attributes, that used to haunt one, inducing transient lacrimation without any organic cause, and make him stop right there, no matter where and in which circumstance, have changed too. No malice for one who finds out that there is no time for such idiopathic episodes of lacrimation.
For me, that radio far away with horrible acoustics finds no context or relevance anymore, and has bowed out to give in to 24 channel ultra-stereophonic digital melody synthesisers which is a puppet in my hand because I have an electronic control over it remotely, without batting an eyelid.
That in effect, the yearning to cover the entire distance to Nowhere someday, the earnestness to locate that archetypal radio with questionable acoustic quality, have ceased to exist . It has become irrelevant in the backdrop of surroundings which had to accommodate changes that were absolutely imperative.
Now where am I? ... Need some time to figure the figurative out.
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* declaration -- 'these words are not mine but written by a heart long deceased, that was wounded to a permanent standstill by a flurry of existentialist questions.'
--- Anirban™ (that used to be)
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*declaration -- " All this data above have been processed and computed by my Avatar who does all the dirty job for me in the real world. As for me, I don't think I exist any longer anywhere. I was edged out by my avatar Frankie in our competitive bids to survive in a world that justifies to find justice in survival of the fittest. The words you are reading have been ghost-written, written by a ghost I mean."
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---- This is an auto-refreshing message.
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Freakingly yours,
Anirban© (To 'Be')
Anirban® (Not to 'Be')
* NB : There seems to be an ambiguity here. (metaphysical±monist ic/dualistic±wave/pa rticle. You figure it out)
*PS : By the way, do you believe in ghosts?.
Sent from my BlackBerry®Smartphone
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Dr.Anirban Chaudhuri M.B.B.S
Consultant Physician (special interest in
Cardiology&Critical Care)
Mumbai, India
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"It is important to just listen for a while instead of speaking." -- My teacher
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