Music

It's 1.30am and I have just stopped working on a paper for the day (or night). I always like to end my day by listening to some music. "Music is worthless, unless it can make a complete stranger break down and cry." I have laughed, smiled, felt happy, cried, felt sad listening to songs. I don't know how many of you know the song "Dumbing down of love" by Frou Frou (Imogen Heap). But its worth your time.

Well painted passion

You rightly suspect

Impersonation

The dumbing down of love

Jaded in anger

Love underwhelms you

No box of chocolates

Whichever way you fall

And if I tell you

Lover alone without love

What will happen

Lover alone without love

Will you miss him?

Lover alone without--without love

No, no I'll get this

I want to treat you

You're still not famous

And you haven't struck it rich

Underachieving

'Cause no one's receiving

This tunnel vision

It's turning out all wrong

And if I tell you

Lover alone without love

What will happen

Lover alone without love

Will you miss him?

Love alone without,

without love

Music is worthless,

unless it can

Make a complete stranger

Break down and cry

And if I tell you

Lover alone without love

And what will happen

Lover alone without love

And will you listen

Lover alone without, without love

Without love

Without love

.

Death. Even the word sounds what it means. How do you deal with it? I feel the tears stinging my eyes. I drift in and out of conversations. I don’t want people to look at me and nod. But I still tell them because I want to be able to drift in and out of conversations. I laugh because it’s funny. We talk about books, classes, and food. The Korean restaurant is nice, cozy. Someone comes in and there’s a draft of cold air. The tears come unexpectedly. I concentrate on my chopsticks. I remember talking to Aai in the morning, my morning. I had mistaken the call for my alarm. When I look back up, she cups my shoulder, “Are you ok?” I smile. I am glad I’m here. The food is delicious. We pay and leave. We make jokes about the cold. The wind hits hard when we open the door. Ten minutes to get to the performance. We find our seats, I’m excited. That thought creeps in again. I stay with it. The dancers start dancing. It’s beautiful. I feel emotional. I let myself feel it. The performance is over, smiles and hugs and out in the cold again. The walk from the T is painful… I let the tears stuck in my throat flow out freely, roll on to my cheeks. There’s no one home. Silence. I can only hear my breathing.
9.49am in India. They are probably driving to the crematorium. I remember the look of pure love in her eyes the last time I met her, Aji.