Have you listened to a song in a foreign language ? Where
you do not understand a word of what is sung. Yet you do begin to notice how the
colours and the textures of a human voice weave patterns so beautiful with the
musical notes .You start hearing the breaths , in between the words . You start
to distinguish the sighs of despair from the short breaths of hope. You hear the
feelings , and then you start scripting the story in your mind.
If you haven’t
, you ought to try it at least once . Sometimes it will make you wonder why you needed the words in the first place.
Once upon a lifetime, my father used to collect hindi songs
. He had a drawer full of Hindi cassettes Although he did not understand Hindi , he sat back , closed his eyes and listened
to Mohamed Rafi’s and Lata mangaskar’s voices ...
For years I could not
understand this madness . What he enjoyed in songs he did not understand a word
of what is said . How can there be a
song , without the words ?
Then along the way I too discovered a few of those. I fell in
This was one . I have read the meaning somewhere , but I
chose to forget it . Because I loved the story I wrote in my teenage mind . I
love it still .
After all these years
, as I begin to understand my father . As I become my father , I realize I am inflicted with the same bug .
Not the same singers, but the yearning to listen to a song that you do not
understand . The other day , I was listening to a French song by a young lady called Zaz. (I do not
understand French) The memories came flooding in …and this post was a must.