>>What can be wrong, at times, with perfectly good music?
>>>>Memories associated with it.
>>What’s wrong with having memories? Beautiful memories?
>>>>Realisation that the people and places who and which make those memories are gone forever. And forever is word which can be used only in sentences like the previous one.
>>What’s wrong with meeting new people? Falling in love with a whole new groupe?
>>>>Nothing. It’s natural. But memory stays forever. And sometimes it comes to haunt you. Sometimes when you are lonely. Sometimes when you are ill. And then nothing can help you. Roy’s moth of fear and dreadness spreads over your heart and spreads its wings slowly slowly. You regret. You curse yourself. You curse the fate. But the spirit of the departed soul stays with you throughout the night. It plays games with your poor sick mind. And you only groan in pain.
Piano keys. Songs. Loud music. Eagles. Country Rock. The tall trees swinging with us. The painted evening sky. The tears of sadness. My arm around her shoulders. The passing of first cigrettes. The disease. The concern. The heart break. The river. The newly constructred building of Hall 8. The canal. The breeze around the corner of Health Centre. Hall 4 canteen cofee. The swimming pool. The tennis courts. The halogen lights at night. The beautiful saree. Dressing up. Guests. The Foyer in the new LHC. Strangers in the night. One windy summer night. SAC chawraah. The rising heart beats while climbing the trembling stairs leading to the top of water tank. The stillness of night. The ulsa major. The constellations. I don’t even remember the names. One cold December winter night. The room on the third floor.
My mind is playing games. My mind is incapable of forgetting. Forgetfulness is ncessary for a normal life. It is not my fault. It is the music. The music with which we associate scenes. Scenes in which there people. Some of who are no longer on earth. Some of who might never see you again.
I hate holidays. And I hate falling sick. They both mess up with my daily schedule. And the music is of no help.