Illusions: A Journey through Instrumentals


“Ah, music,” he said, wiping his eyes. “A magic beyond all we do here!” 
(J.K. RowlingHarry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone)

Life is much like a song. In the beginning, there is mystery; in the end, there is confirmation… but it’s in the middle where all the emotion resides to make the whole thing worthwhile.  Some people have lives; some people have music. Music is in fact a higher revelation than all wisdom & philosophy. Even the great Albert Einstein quipped: “If I were not a physicist, I would probably be a musician. I often think in music. I live my daydreams in music. I see my life in terms of music.”

Music is to the soul what words are to the mind; it is the wine that fills the cup of silence. Like it’s said, everything in the universe has a rhythm, everything dances. And this rhythm gives a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and life to everything. It can name the unnameable and communicate the unknowable. It is the universal language of mankind.

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Lost in Rhythm


“Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment.
There is no why.”
(Kurt Vonnegut)

Time and Life, whether you want it or not, have a way of going in circles. Ideally, you’d want it to be a linear path—you’d always know where you were going, you’d always be able to move on and leave everything else behind. Instead, you always find yourself where you had begun. You forget things you try to remember. You remember things you’d rather forget. The most frightening thing about memory is that it leaves no choice. It has mastered an incomprehensible art of forgetting. It erases, it smudges, and it fills in the blank spaces with details that don’t exist.

But however you remember it—or choose to remember it—the past is the foundation that holds your life in place. Without its support, you’d have nothing for guidance. What defines you isn’t “where you’re going”, but “where you’ve been”. There are things that will never change, things you will carry along always.

Time is an equal opportunity employer. Rich people can’t buy more hours. Scientists can’t invent new minutes. And you can’t save time to spend it on another day. What you perceive as precious is not ‘time’, but the one point that is ‘out of time’: the Now. The more you are focused on time—past and future—the more you miss the Now, the most precious thing there is.

Unfortunately, the clock is ticking, the hours are going by. The past increases, the future recedes. Possibilities decrease, regrets mount. Time is such a waste of time to think about, because the longer you reflect on it, the more of it you lose. Yesterday is but today’s memory and tomorrow is today’s dream. So, flow with the rhythm and start counting how many Now’s you’ve collected and preserved yet!

Owing to some liminal displacement, my thoughts got a bit carried away. Hence, this poetic outcome:

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