For Want Of A Better World

I woke up this morning, and realised, the romance in me had died, sometime in the night. It was a peaceful demise, Like a death from starvation, disease, old age, Just wasting away behind the scenes, without a fight. I am no longer the ashes on my pillow, Just memories moving through a murky past, The sinews of my being move me to look away from the remains, Afraid to know if it was an end he deserved, But I think he would have liked that. I move on with my being, Taking pleasure from what is here and now, A cold drop of water pleases more my shoulder, Than the scribblings of a mind, fevered, With visions beyond mankind, With sweat on his brow. The bed lies empty as I come back, The room frozen in a wanton sigh, I clasp the folds of the blanket, afraid, Of a shroud debased by my existence, To lay down my head, and cry.

For some reason, I feel extremely reminiscent today. What with my recent decision to always think in the narrative made on a trip to Vaishno Devi, I guess this post had to come sooner or later (given the number of buses I travel in every day), although the topic that I write about today came as a surprise even to myself. It’s been about two years since I collected my passing certificate from My Schoo l , and in those two years, I have visited that most hallowed of places only once. It wasn’t so much that I didn’t want to visit it, but there always was something that kept me from going back. If I have to put a name to it, I would say it’s an insecurity that I’ve had ever since I passed out. School always, and especially in my last two years, was a place where I went to have fun, meet my friends, roam about aimlessly in the middle of Chemistry or English class with one classmate or several. It was a time when I was both an extreme recluse and part of the most active friend circles at t

There are so many things that distinguish one sort of music from another. The emotions they want to express might be the same, but they can create such different feelings which, while they’re being conveyed, also give the genre its characteristic, well, feel. Take, for example, telling a woman that she looks beautiful, or that you love her: Soft Rock – Soft rock is about expressing the feeling of comfort that you have with the girl and the kind of comfort you want her to feel. Examples: You’re Beautiful – James Blunt, Southern Girl – Incubus Hard Rock – The feeling isn’t as much love as much as making love; hard rock songs tend to convey feelings like the night spent together was wild and completely worth it. Examples: Trampled Underfoot – Led Zeppelin, American Woman – Lenny Kravitz Soul – Here the songs are slow, more like ballads, what are typically classified as ‘love songs’. These songs involve crooning words of love strung together as a method of, well, ‘wooing’ a girl.