The dying art of rhythm

Many decades back, it was the most dominant form of recreation. Some decades back, one of many. And now in none within money. For the common man, not the ones who made a profession out of it. The dying art of rhythm – making poetry and practicing music or a dance form.

It has its advantages, very basic ones. One knew that there was always a deeper meaning, ones he had to celebrate or go against. There almost seemed a greater purpose if you could rhythm. It also taught teamwork, you had to gel lines with each other, you had to gel with others to create a symphony. It also taught one to be on toes all the time, a slight off tune or rhythm meant the entire rhythm was lost and it was just impossible to catch on. And it required one to really practice hard to be good, which meant time away from the primary vocation, and hence a big de-stresser. 

To this, as rains started looming over the parched Delhi streets over the weekend, I am reminded of my early compositions, the “Showers of yesteryears”, dedicated to the rains.

Half closed eyes, I woke up when –
Wondering why I dreamt so long;
Till this day, I was off by seven –
Else the day would go all wrong;

Half open eyes, I drew the curtains –
And to my shock, I rose;
I could see the looming rains –
And the dark clouds nearing close;

Lightning came and a thunder struck –
My day was all but over;
When by the sill, my heart broke –
As men out ran for cover;

The rain kept hitting on glass –
As my thoughts wandered to the yore;
Those days when I was readied for class –
Past twenty years and more;

Rain, then, was a friend to me –
who I kept cheering welcome;
Away from school, I giggled in glee –
With fun and games at home;

Woke up late, I loved it then –
And found all dear ones aside;
All day long I was in den –
And then the quilt to hide;

Time’s changed, the same friend dear,
A killer of all has become;
I shoo it far as it comes so near –
Who long back I prayed for some;

I know not why, but my heart wills to –
Now dance and sing in rain;
Like lovers, hug and have it woo –
like she may not come again;

I did all that and a little more –
Allaying aside my fears;
Making merry like never before –
With those showers of yesteryears;

Here’s to rains, the torchbearer of rhythm.

#lifeatofbusiness
#lifeatoxyzo