Pooja Bista

As they say that a single song carries most of our feelings and that too in a precise way. The same thing also applies to me. Songs has always been an inseparable part in my life. They have been there for me through thick and thin. I often think in music. I live my moments in lyrics. And, I express my life through songs.

I believe a life is just like a song. Just like tempos in a song are changing, life is filled with struggles, challenges, and success that we all go through. Life has its own highs and lows. When I listen to songs, I feel like I’ve learnt something, something new. Music makes me happy, all I want to do is jump in joy and dance like nobody is watching me.

Every time I listen to songs, I believe that it has done something magical to my mood. I feel like the music, lyrics, beats, melodies and every other element of the song are related and relevant to me. It works just like a time travel machine for me: recalling and reliving the old times that I had almost forgotten. As I listen to almost all genres of music, I feel like they relate to me more and more. 

As I begin to explore a minute of my life with my headphone on, I dream my life with the song that’s playing. I madly and deeply fall in love with ‘good songs’ that inhibits my soul. The musical images that songs are able to create are amazing. It has the ability to transport you back in time just like a time machine. Music lets us revisit, lost and forgotten moments in life.

Songs can paint a picture where stories unfold. Music creates not just the harmony among different communities, but connects people through it. Songs and music are not bounded by language barrier, you can always feel and connect with them. Songs have the power to make us realize that music is beyond any language, religion, borders or nationality.  

It unites all humans against indifferences. It may sound stupid when I say there is a life in songs, but I believe life is incomplete without music.

Survival
-Rohit Rajvardhan

A broken heart wants to be immortal 
Like a poem of Szymborska,  
A poem of such stature wants a body 
Of reticent words to find a voice,  
A viable, reticent word needs a field 
Of blank sheet to scatter itself like a seed,  
A blank sheet needs sperm-like-ink to conceive something 
As beautiful as a child on the face of the earth,  
A stretch of ink, even a speck of it, requires bends of mind 
In the ages of solitude to draw even the eyes, 
Of the most unsaid, the most unborn 
An unclaimed love has managed to survive, 
Through the worst of silences in the most silent way. 

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