she could'nt really put a finger on it.
The sense of helplessness. hopelessness.
The strains of the ananda bhairavi filtered up to where she was sitting.
It was a lovely sight, from where she was. she could see the city sprawling underneath her, in the night, the beautifully lit vehicles zipping by, the lights shimmering on the vast lake making it feel like there was nothing wrong in the world. the world looked serene, it looked beautiful, it looked almost blissful. From where she was, the cacophony of the traffic sounded like a murmur of a lullaby.
the strains of the music, were more pronounced, maybe because she wanted it to be so. Her ears strained to hear the music. sitting on her window sill, she hummed along to the tune.
It was a long time ago when she had learnt this raaga. she had loved this raaga as soon as she heard it. In all her years of music, this raaga was her personal signature, a perfect blend of happiness and sorrow - just like life.
She hummed along, missing a beat here and there - for it was a lifetime ago that she had learnt this tune... somewhere along, the dam that was carefully constructed began to reveal its cracks.
Jealousy? Anger? Repulsion? Revolt? Ennui? she knew not.
She opened the window to allow the music to enter fully. the chilly evening air rushed in along.. bringing with it the harsher sounds of the traffic, the sweet scent of the gulmohar.
The music was her love. This tune - her companion. her hair played with the wind, like an elegant swan in flight, her jump was almost perfect.
There would be no more helplessness now. No hopelessness either. No anger or digust or repulsion or hate, or even love.