It has been raining since last night. The wind, cool and scented with soggy smells of leaves and trunks, sweeps some drizzle into my window.
I am listening to an old Hindi song that means:
It is the month of rain
And the wind is howling its protests.
The heart is dancing
Like a peackock in the forests.
Which forces an unhappy question to pop up on its own: what are Hindi film lyrics doing in a purportedly fiction blog.
Well films qualify as fiction too and poetry is the most elevated form of fiction.
Actually our real lives have become so grim due to stress, news, terrorism and obsession with looks, that it seems true beauty is in quest of fiction to save its soul.
I like that sort of fiction- beautiful.
And what opened my eyes to beauty were: Arundhati Roy's TGOST and Gulzar's lyrics.
Their pens ooze poetry-- just cup your hands to drink this nectar.
...The rain has slowed a bit...another song is playing on my 2.1
Oh life, please embrace me...
For I have embraced every one of your sorrows
Isn't it?
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