Song 55s--In dino....

Circa 2007
In an old shoe-box, with little slits lived Lady Birdie.
A peck here, a pull with her beak there revealed the sepia toned world outside. Of a small unkempt room, a worn-out couch, lots of paper, records, bottles, shoes and what not.

In that year of insignificance, she’d still not given up on the Sky!
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[Hai tujhe bhi ijaazzat, karle tu bhi mohabbat……from the film Life..in a Metro]

Song 55: Suicide Note

I wanted to believe you would win?
The black raven's song, a caress, shoddy shades of clotting blood.
The Bottle, broken like shattered dreams.
The trembling heart. Closed my eyes.
Did not wish to see. Lived in an illusion.
Some thoughts, invented. Placed carefully. Built a new world of intangible thoughts.
I wanted to believe.

**
The song is called Suicide Note by Johnette Napolitano.
I am too lazy to hoist the song here, if one wants to hear it. Leave a message, I shall mail it to you.

Song-55s--Yesterday once more...

The familiar swell within just before the eyes met, the usual courtesies, meaningless giggle, some small talk for lack of a common context, the twinkle in each other’s eyes, the momentary faraway look for the sake of ‘what if’, some gulps of cremosa.

How many times does one need a replay?
All for a nest…..

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[I was reminded of one of my favourite songs by The Carpenters and hence the title]

That thing you do...

In half-slumber,
In unknowing.
In trying to hold onto the floating riff-raff
It’s that thing you do!

In surprises, fleeting glances,
In not answering when I ask,
In speaking when you do
It’s that thing that you do!

In my dreaming,
In my wanting to hold you
It’s always that thing you do
To Me.

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[Inspired by the 1996 film 'That Thing You Do!' written and directed by Tom Hanks. The lyrics are here.]

Song 55: Here Comes The Sun

She doesn't believe in heartbreak. Though she knows how easily her heart can break. She doesn't acknowledge failure. Not cos she's always succeeded. She isn't an idealist. Not cos a cruel world battered her ideals out of her. She believes in life. Not cos it's beautiful. But cos it goes on. Cos nothing stays.

Glad C&b put this one up. Lovely song. One of my favourites :)

Nothing at all...

In my moments of emptiness, I have Nothing to say.
That is when I want to speak to you, The Most.

Amidst
“Will I?
Won’t I?”
I manage to hide behind meaningless texts, which are not me…

Don’t you have anything to say?

It’s my worst Nothing that wishes to tell you my best Something
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['When you say nothing at all'--lyrics by Paul Overstreet, covered by Alison Kraus & Union Station and also by Ronan Keating]

hazaaro.n Khvaahishe.n aisii ki har Khvaaish pe dam nikale

She looks out of the window. White clouds float in the sparkling azure sky. Her dreams were many. But she has learned to let go. It doesn’t hurt anymore.

He looks out of the window. The brightness hurts his eyes. He lost all his dreams and the pain remains. Why did he let her go?


Lyrics: Mirza Asadullah Beg Khan/Ghalib 27th Dec 1796-15th Feb 1869
Singer: Jagjit Singh

Javeda Zindagi (tose naina lagey...)

She’s been driving all night.
Behind her the sky has a silvery clarity--a pearl being turned to light.

She rolls down the window. A whiff of fresh swift covers her face with her hair. This neutral, early April breeze— it seals the ending of the hot, sticky night.

Seals a lot of endings right…

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[Song Javeda Zindagi from the Film 'Anwar']

Song 55's-IV, Little Boxes II

On her way, the butterfly touched down. At times, the flowers spread their petals and reached out to her. At others, they were so proud of their beauty and fragrance.
But they were all flowers who didn’t wish to fly, happy being rooted at the same place for their lives.

Happy being named a ‘flower’!

Song 55's-IV, Little Boxes

She was born to him, an austere and her, a dainty flower. Creative and poor.

When she could decipher words, they told her,
“Spread your wings, our little butterfly.
And learn to mend them too.”

To this day she flies having crossed miles, braved storms and being blessed by the wind, caressed by the Sun.

[Little Boxes by Malvina Reynolds, sung by Pete Seeger]

Song 55s IV: Scarborough Fair II

She slips in and out. The window’s been reduced to a watery reflection of the hospital room. Darkness crouches just outside. Piled clouds shoulder each other out of the way. Big bullies. Doctors gravely shake their heads. Suddenly, a smile plays among the wrinkles and liver spots. Once in the hereafter, what dreams may come.

Scarborough Fair, Simon and Garfunkel

Song 55's-III, Are you going to Scarborough Fair?

She was working at her family barn. He was riding back home from town after a long, long time.
And their eyes met.

She ran away on a stormy night. When morning lit up, they found her on the cliff bend on the way to the rolling plains below.

He had a bet on more….

[Revealed, just made a start ...]

Song 55's II: Durr (II)

He is alone. Again. His latest fling didn't work out. Again. You wonder why. He is perfect, after all. Rugged, well travelled, sophisticated, he always says the right thing at the right time. You know you would be perfect together. And you are. But then he is alone. Again. And you don't quite know why.

Song 55s I: Duur (Strings)

Wiseling and I had a conversation from which this particular brainchild was born :). I wrote a post recently (on my blog) about Song-people. How songs so often conjure up an image of a person in your head. Not based on the video or the lyrics or even the singer alone. But just from the general feeling you get when you listen to the song. Wiseling came up with a 51 for Duur and I thought it might be fun to do Song-55s. I'm going to start with Duur. And if any of you have a different take on it, or even the same take but in a different way then feel free to jump right in. Course it goes without saying that if you have a different song then you just start your own Song-55s chain for that song. Try if possible to link to the song so that if one of us hasn't heard it, we get to listen to it.

His eyes open to darkness. A startled second skips before he remembers where he is. Drat the time difference. But he's used to it. Been here, done this. Many times. And familiarity hasn't even begun to breed contempt. The world's his mollusc. Travelling's his thing. And nothing beats the feeling of wind in his hair.