Listen to this wonderful track by Pandit Jasraj and read along.
*
*
Transported to the past, a pinch of time plucked, rubbed, glided from vilambit (slow), madhya (medium), to drut (fast) tempo, casting a spell to unite.
The golden light smeared the pillars, the roof, escaping through the hall, smudging the dusk too… or was it dawn?
A small earthen diya (lamp) lit the space wholly, for so long, and though the last one to enter the hall, standing near the pillar, you feel the warmth.
No one moves, as if they are painted and fixed, but you do to see the diya from nearby, you ask it something, it flickers gently, and you realise it is the music that is its source.
The beats slowly embrace you.
Suddenly, in the end, before transporting back, you find yourself dancing, joyfully.
Chapter 5 – The Dementors, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
A Snippet Review
Double, double toil and trouble
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble
Double, double toil and trouble
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble
Something wicked this way comes!
*
Listen to and enjoy the full track before reading further –
*
*
The choir welcomes one all – freshers, seasoned magicians and viewers – to another year at Hogwarts, promising more magic and double trouble.
Quipping, the song teases dark twists, fire that may rise and burn, old cauldrons that bubble a recipe for unfolding mysteries which may or may not favour you.
And while memorising the incantation, that sways and enchants and bothers and relieves and tickles, you find and hold your wand with a firm grip, looking straight searchingly, more lost than before yet ready… ready for ‘something wicked this way comes…’
The toad croaks to our delight, amusement and excitement. The choir scatters, and we meet Dumbledore, behind the podium, he is sure to make an announcement. Excitement multiplies!
Double appointments, Professor R. J Lupin (Defence against the Dark Arts) and Rubeus Hagrid (Care of Magical Creatures) are greeted warmly, by some who know, and some who don’t, the entire truth.
Clap-clap-clap, tersely, goes Professor Snape (Potions), his sallow face looking sick.
Cheers-cheers but wait here comes the trouble.
Finally, on a more disquieting note, at the request of the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts will, until further notice, play host to the Dementors of Azkaban…
… Dementors are vicious creatures, they will not distinguish between the one they hunt and the one who gets in their way… it’s not in the nature of a dementor to be forgiving…
Albus Dumbledore
*
Dementors at Hogwarts. [A still from the film; Source – harrypotterfanzone]
*
Excitement multiplies? Yes, but fear seeps in now, what the choir hinted at appeared to be harmless, the dementors are not. Fear of not hiding away, but of facing it, of hearing those screams again troubled Harry.
Oh, wait, the cauldron is bubbling again, “adder’s fork, and blind-worm’s sting, lizard’s leg, and owlet’s wing”, the incantation hasn’t changed all these years, let the fire rather show you the way.
And Harry listens carefully to the headmaster’s closing remarks…
But you know, happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.
Relationship with the world grows like grass and creepers; growing in every direction like the grass, growing criss-cross network like the creepers. The very many we don’t know, the very few we do, together shape our lives.
Meeting not the grass patch across the road, I stay happy/unhappy with my rocks, my stones, my pals, my weeds.
And in a shrinking world – our one big grass field, our one small landmass in the world of oceans upon oceans – the seasons may change, but the weather remains the same, it is the weather to form relationships, this weather is here to stay.
Hatred and discomfort in a relationship doesn’t require much effort, it easily springs to life, nurturing illusions in separation, measuring neatly, dividing by all, leaving the remains in decimals.
Compassion, love in a relationship is all that there is to it.
Then doing a chore becomes something more, like wild grass covering and fostering the soil exuberantly, turning into meadows, savannas, prairies, pastures, it grows, not knowing the difference it grows.
Moon loves the grass and listening to George Ezra. [Source – Pixabay]
*
The weather remains the same, it is the weather to form relationships, this weather is here to stay, that is why probably the weather forecast says, ‘Listen to George Ezra’.
His songs are about forming relationships – with friends, family, the beloved, the city, the village, Tiger Lily, the oldies goldies, heaven, hell, middle earth, nature, you and me and them all.
In baritone voice, his songs narrate a story of relations without conclusions so that you can freely listen and freely walk on the grass field.
His songs share secret messages that you get before you know you did.
Without an end, like a creeper stretching its hand, meeting a tree or a forest floor, the song meets you, takes you along.
Ezra’s songs speak not about ‘eventually’, for there is no ‘eventually’, but only the now, the present, this instant, not what is fleeting, nothing is, for you’re fleeting along.
Hold on, hold on dear world for we are moving together, divided we fall, we have fallen, fallen on the green grass that if we see, observe, will share a thing or two about relations.
This weather forecast won’t fail you, rather it’ll nudge you lovingly to make do, see through and say Take Two today.
Twisted, quirky and stubborn relationships, at times, may overpower, confuse, ridicule you, don’t give up then, but take this antidote; first get drenched in rain and thunder, be with the darkness inside, then simply ‘blame it on me’, only to switch to a soothing greenery, back to nature for a while.
*
Why Day – Did You Hear The Rain?
*
Eh Day – Blame it on me
*
Any Day – Barcelona
Weather forecast ‘ifs’ –
*
If you want a clear sky and the day to be bright and sunny or if it is too hot and you want a happy tiny cloud to follow you for shade then listen to George Ezra’s Morning Song.
Tell me now of the very soul that look alike, look alike
Do you know the stranglehold covering their eyes?
If I call on every soul in the land, on the moon
Tell me if I’ll ever know a blessing in disguise…
The curse ruled from the underground, down by the shore
And their hope grew with a hunger to live unlike before
And the curse ruled from the underground, down by the shore
And their hope grew with a hunger to live unlike before…
– The Curse, by Agnes Obel
*
Listen to the song The Curse by Agnes Obel before reading further –
Humanity as an unabridged version, dancing forwards, backwards, forwards, in joy, in pain, walking down the lane is moving too fast and swaying too slow, thought she and wrote it on the blackboard. The white words looked silly but good. She gave a date to this thought and it made a ‘gong’ sound that ricocheted for fun.
The curse is the boon, thought she, but only once in a while when seen thus.
Retracing becomes easier than stepping forth and so one forgets.
And in the search for meaning when they get tired, they choose to imbibe what they hear from others, what they find familiar.
The familiar good that is, not the familiar grim; nevertheless, it is an overwhelming experience, thought she.
Just so you know the underlying emotion here when in search, is that of love – love that doesn’t chase meaning… for it owns it. A simple smile, gesture, hello-hi wave, acknowledging the tata-goodbye, is love triumphing over time.
Time notices it and smiles, each time just so you know. And she followed this thought and it withered away, it withered peacefully.
Now you take this cool-cool mountain air to the riverside and let it gush, let it fall as droplets. Sit by the riverside, fall and rise as someone else who is thrilled to continue the search.
*
So let the narrative grow
like a rhizome, spreading then like Time
Without boundaries, fast and slow.
Here’s the official video of the song The Curse –
*
“The Curse” is a song I wrote after I read the book Thinking, Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman. It’s a book about the mind, and there is a chapter in the book about narrative fallacies, and I thought that was really interesting – how we construct these narratives of our own lives, even though so many things, almost anything that happens, is the result of a lot of things outside of our own control and doesn’t have any meaning – it’s completely accidental. But our minds want to put meaning into everything and to make sense of them. We’re like these “meaning machines” – human beings.
I thought it was really beautiful and interesting, because in a way, he says it’s why we invented math, music, science, and poetry: this need for meaning. And religion, and so forth. But there is also the flip side, why we have all these wars and these hardcore ideas of national identity. That you can go out and kill other people. It’s a blessing and it’s a curse. I just thought it was interesting, and then I wrote this song about it. Some people couldn’t figure out if it was a blessing or a curse.
Standing next to the giant old tree, its static presence made Saami sombre, more and more.
He cried, “Saami is now one with the rigid, rough and-and dead, yes, dead and gruesome tree bark, Saami has turned into this tree bark… O, but why?”
Resting against the tree now, now hugging the tree and mumbling, Saami stared into nothingness blankly, quietly. He opened his fist – a flint stone chip, equally dead he thought – and started ripping off the bark once again.
“Saami sees it all, Saami knows the limits, Saami’s dungeon is different from theirs, but… it’s all the same”, he announced in pain.
The twittering yellow bird, the prancing butterflies, a distant lullaby, the pesky kung-fu crickets’ funny civil war and the red flowers’ bold stance, Saami turned a blind eye to it all.
Even the crickets stopped their civil war to enjoy the rain and the rainbow that day, but not Saami.
“Fools! Saami knows the pattern, Saami knows hope and destiny are always stuck in a traffic jam, and love…”, said Saami two hours ago.
“Love… love coloured Saami’s world black… black is the absence of all colours… black reflects no light… Saami lives in darkness”, he completed the sentence just when the fireflies lit the jungle.
Some rested on his head and hands, but Saami refused to greet them.
With a dry look, sullen eyes and tired limbs, Saami spoke for the last time, “dead, static tallness, this soulless tree bark hates Saami, this is the death penalty, and the most terrible because Saami is not tied, Saami can move, Saami knows, but not anymore, for Saami has become one with this giant numb stubborn treeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…”
Saami spoke for the last time because the lovely, joyous and calm tree’s branch took hold of Saami’s tired body and pulled him up-up-up… in a gushing blast of speed, suddenly music broke Saami’s heart-heart-heart… ta-rum-pup-pup-paa came the sound and immediately replaced it with a musical hub-dub sensation of a heart.
*
The lead singer-cum-dancer-cum-poser. [Image by Roy N from Pixabay]
From the top-most branch of the tall lovely tree, Saami could see melodic colours and no darkness, nothing was static for the entire jungle and the river and the wind and the sky and the stars and the moon and the sun (together) danced to the twee peppy tune – and equally soothing, thought Saami – that the animal orchestra was playing.
Every animal – jamming freely – sitting on the top of some tree just like Saami… Saami who started clapping, swaying along and tip-tap-toeing in the air.
The tall lovely tree finally spoke, “Saami, yoi-knowi-da-cosmic-i-dance-sO-‘ell”; Saami was seen blushing brightly before the curtain was drawn.
A happy piece! Kintsugi is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. – Wikipedia [Photo by Motoki Tonn on Unsplash]
*
For a better experience, listen to the wonderful, magical tracks before reading on –
*
Listen to Little Talks here –
*
‘Cause though the truth may vary This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore…
Little Talks, Of Monster and Men
And this journey forward that seems uncertain, unforgiving, perilous, and so lonely transforms into a key – a key that unlocks both the Pandora’s box of adversities and the heart’s orchestra.
String, woodwind, brass and percussion music, always on stand-by, ready to win-over the adversities melodiously, has given the heart’s orchestra a good name.
What if the monster charges with an army or is two-headed or many eyed or has tentacles? Hey-hey, hey-ho, the key that unlocks, also locks… it is all up to you and your heart’s orchestra performance.
Psst! Listen, all monsters aren’t evildoers, but they are music lovers for each one has a heart. Good luck!
Listen to King And Lionheart here –
*
And as the world comes to an end I’ll be here to hold your hand Cause you’re my king and I’m your lionheart
King and Lionheart, Of Monsters and Men
And this journey that seems to have ended with our destruction, our death, and yet alive, we silently stare, scar-faced and overwhelmed, at our sacrifice blooming at the right place, at the right time…
Tired steps befriend the trodden grass… and at last the haunting echoes fail… the Lionheart rises again.
Listen to Dirty Paws here –
*
The bees had declared a war The sky wasn’t big enough for them all The birds, they got help from below From dirty paws and the creatures of snow
Dirty Paws, Of Monsters and Men
And in the middle of a war, when you turn around to see and cannot distinguish between the mad faces, you become one with them and fight fiercely until you remember, you too are a creature that breathes.
Breathe, breathe, breathe and continue for that is the call…
Listen to Love Love Love here –
*
Oh, ’cause you love, love, love When you know I can’t love You love, love, love When you know I can’t love You love, love, love When you know I can’t love you
Love Love Love, Of Monsters and Men
And what hurts the most in this forgotten life of ours… unfulfilled love that can be fulfilled and yet…
When love love love turns you into a piece of Kintsugi pot, smile for now you have been repaired.
Listen to Mountain Soundhere –
*
Of Monsters and Men is an amazing indie rock band from Iceland. They have a knack for amalgamating folk stories, emotions, joy, pain and the magical into their songs that almost every time matches with the universe’s wavelength.
Listening to their music is like sitting around a bonfire on a bright winter night… and like playing with the breeze in the summers.
How powerful is a melody! A melody struck in the past, struck so beautifully that it broke free.
Timeless! A timeless piece of music rings true always; ten times truer in those moments when the courageous stand tall.
A single spark then is enough to change the narration. The narration that once appeared fixed and firm now burns and melts, making a new path, creating a new reality.
How powerful is a spark! A spark… perishable and yet unfading, tiny celebratory moments in embers, collected often by those seekers.
Those seekers who can also create a timeless melody… a timeless melody that even if buried under rubbles, surrounded by war cries, awaits the moment to be struck and break free once again.
At random, randomly, in quiet randomness, a wise thought meets the mind, very gently like a leaf aiming for the pond, to talk without pretence and reveal something true – maybe a different not so obvious stand-alone truth among the other established ones – to pass on a message.
This message – shining like a silver lining – may usher you to creativity; towards a painting like van Gogh’s, an algorithm like Newton’s, a discovery like Herschel’s, a poem like Angelou’s, a song like Spektor’s, a choice made by you.
One could very well ignore this message but don’t worry, the message almost without fail knocks again, it reaches out, shinning like a silvery figment you think is weak but is actually feisty, stretching a hand towards you, promising or faking nothing, just there to randomly have a discussion with you and maybe show you your creative side.
See how Regina Spektor creatively turned these random discussions into gold for herself and all of us.
*
Listen to Folding Chair before reading further –
*
Come and open up your folding chair next to me My feet are buried in the sand And there’s a breeze There’s a shadow You can’t see my eyes And the sea is just a wetter version of the skies…
Regina Spektor
Sigh, sigh, sigh… after boarding nine jet flights psychologically and/or emotionally, after abandoning, condemning, loving some of these when you open up your eyes and let out a sigh, you’re slightly a different person.
You then understand yourself a little better and the world a little less for your focal point shifts that too, most of the time, without informing or making news out of it. And you carry on living, sitting on a folding chair.
But there is nothing wrong with it says Regina Spektor and rightly so. That is life, realisations, ignorance, lies and truths, pass like clouds on a breezy day. Sit back and sing the dolphin song as you wait.
Now I’m sitting here alone Dreaming of the dolphin song
Oo-oo-oo, oo-oo-oo, oo-oo-oo, oo Oo-oo-oo, oo
Regina Spektor
Listen toLaughing With –
*
God could be funny When told he’ll give you money If you just pray the right way And when presented like a genie Who does magic like Houdini Or grants wishes like Jiminy Cricket And Santa Claus God could be so hilarious…
Regina Spektor
A believer or non-believer most likely laughs; most likely laughs less at the others and laughs more with the others; most likely believes or believes in not-believing; this makes our lonely planet a colourful place.
So the chances are high that if an alien pays us a visit we will laugh with that alien and bond well. Ha ha ha!
Listen to Bleeding Heart –
*
How long must I wait till you learn that it’s not too late How long must I cry till you know that you really tried How long must I try till you learn that dreaming’s hard How long must I dream till you heal your bleeding heart Never mind your bleeding heart
Regina Spektor
Pick up an old family photo album i.e. after you pay a visit to your old house and the old souls inhabiting it, turn the pages and look at how foolish you look, allow the world to swirl, laugh and cry, let your heart bleed, don’t panic, it knows how to heal, no need to doubt the heart.
Listen toOlder and Taller –
*
I remembered you older and taller But you’re younger and smaller So who’s gonna call her and say That you’re here at last? And all the days, they were longer And the drinks, they were stronger The words, we sang wrong But the songs were remembered And time just passed…
Regina Spektor
Memories, if, make you falter, then just smile, for that is the job of memories; to confuse, upset and revive you; it is a full-time job, so smile, that is how time passes and if you learn to smile, it passes well.
Bonus song – Raindrops
The tour of Regina Spektor’s musical world ends here, but only on this blog, listen to her music whenever wherever you can. Check out the first song ‘Becoming All Alone’ from her latest album Home, before andafter (2022) now.
*
*
Keep visiting Chiming Stories for more such posts.
Love, the key to living a fulfilling life, the path that leads to the real you, this emotion called love is universal and free.
An enigmatic thing, love is everywhere – in and around you and me, in our blue planet’s core, it is the main component of every heavenly body and the equally mysterious dark matter. Why else must the dark matter be dark if not for love?
Love – the power that knows the art of giving only too well, that takes pleasure in calmness, that patiently and leisurely creates, that also manoeuvres without light, that is fathomless – humbly colours the dark matter dark.
Who ventures in the unknown, hoping to pierce through the darkness like a sharp arrow, in a speed that surpasses the twang of its bow?
One who is courageous enough to Love.
Landing back on earth, let us see how Regina Spektor has perceived Love and what rhythm has she given to her definitions of Love.
*
Listen to ‘Blue Lips’ –
*
He stumbled into faith and thought “God, this is all There is” The pictures in his mind arose And began To breathe And all the gods in all the worlds Began colliding on a backdrop of blue
Blue lips Blue veins
He took a step But then felt tired He said, “I’ll rest A little while” But when he tried To walk again He wasn’t A child And all the people hurried past Real fast and no one ever smiled
Blue lips Blue veins Blue, the color of our planet from far, far away…
Regina Spektor
No one said that it will not hurt, that there will not be any sacrifices, that we will not forget and misconstrue, no one said Loving is easy and so we failed, repeatedly we failed.
But why lament when we can try again?
As humans, all we need to fully revel in Love is our ability to breathe and our home planet that looks blue from far, far away.
Regina Spektor believes in Love and Loves our beautiful blue planet; it is evident in her songs.
Listen to ‘Eet’ –
*
It’s like forgetting The words to your favorite song You can’t believe it You were always singing along It was so easy And the words so sweet You can’t remember You try to feel a beat eeet eeeet eeet…
Regina Spektor
‘Eet’ is a backspace key that you find on typewriters that allows you to type over the previous letter if you make a mistake.
Mistakes and life, life and mistakes, go well together if you are truly in love (no matter with whom/what). Even if you stumble, forget or lose, you will still try, sooner or later, for love will not allow you to rest.
It is strangely powerful, this emotion; it attacks with a strong gust of memories and then waits, it tickles with happy thoughts and then waits… waiting as if it knows it will win in the end.
If you ever think of using the ‘eet’ key, do try the Regina Spektor way of editing – turn the mistakes into musical notes.
Listen to ‘Better’ –
*
If I kiss you where it’s sore If I kiss you where it’s sore Will you feel better, better, better? Will you feel anything at all?
Born like sisters to this world In a town blood ties are only blood If you never say your name out loud to anyone They can never ever call you by it
If I kiss you where it’s sore If I kiss you where it’s sore Will you feel better, better, better? Will you feel anything at all?
Regina Spektor
Just like opening an old album, with slightly tattered and folded edges, we are greeted with some golden memories – happy and sweet and sad; sad because we cannot travel back to meet the ones we have lost.
And yet we go on, asking hypothetical questions, somehow reliving the moment mentally, grasping the answer that we know will work, at least for now.
Just like opening an old album, ‘Better’ by Regina Spektor gives us such a feeling.
Listen to ‘How’ –
*
Time can come and wash away the pain But I just want my mind to stay the same To hear your voice To see your face There’s not one moment I’d erase You are a guest here now
So baby, how Can I forget your love? How can I never see you again?
Regina Spektor
One always remembers sad endings and unanswered questions, but why?
So that one keeps walking, searching and living more sensitively… maybe.
Coming soon – Regina Spektor’s Musical World and Addressing the Hero – Part IV
Clouds in the evening sky/
Tell the old mountains a secret 'secret'/
Lights on, we turn deaf.
Greetings!
A storyteller, following the ancient tradition of cave chroniclers, standing in vrikshasana (the tree pose) on a hill top (it is sunny, but windy), breathing in and out stories (relishing it all, but at times overwhelmed), declares animatedly that she will continue to – tell stories, share rare story gems, and connect with the pacy universe while also keeping the website ad-free.
Big thanks to my readers. Stay tuned!
Also, a humble request to the new subscribers to check the spam folder after subscribing. Silly (but necessary) confirmation emails often land there instead of the bright inboxes. Merci!
Ya-hoy!
Chiming Stories (formerly Home Chimes)
P.S – Supporting a storyteller is good for the world’s health (and undoubtedly, for the storyteller’s health as well). Shower some love via Patreon.
Gabbeh, the 1996 film, is a simple tale of a gipsy girl, her clan and the way their life goes on. Unfolding beautifully just like an artist painting a canvas, Gabbeh quietly touches the grand questions.
Godard… Breathless and Alive
A Tribute to Jean-Luc Godard, the Film Philologist who Reinvented Cinema.
Arthdal Chronicles is a South Korean fantasy drama TV series that takes us back to the Bronze Age in a mythical land named Arth, where different human species and tribes struggle to be on the top of the power pyramid.
Yes fly! For walking on the second track is dull and usual, but dreaming high, high, high requires tools. Tools like the right pair of shoes, a chirpy, gritty soul that eats butter-jam dreams, a soul that drinks milky-milky creams.
Universe’s a Disciplined Place
Silver cascade shimmering the night sky, music to the waves and surreal beauty to the eyes, the Moon loves the art of discipline.
It may be difficult to believe for the Moon’s splendour defies time, it stupefies the clock, it follows the path of a dreamer, but how could this be possible if the Moon knew not discipline?
In this moment, I am a little bit of this and a little bit of that, I am complete and incomplete, I am pleased and uncertain, I wish for nothing and I know I have to wait.
Because the distance covered reminds me of the hurdles I have crossed and the ones I could not, it reminds me of a throbbing past and a dreamy future and it reminds me of how much time is left.
Meredith and the Green Lake
Illimitable Splendour
A joy so complete without any rise or fall, so free without any time corners, so real without true being false, false being true.
