Who is a Storm’s Muse?

Few months during the year I decide to visit this parched, dust laden, sad city and like always I’m greeted by taller towers and glassier buildings. The locals delight at my arrival, however are too occupied running errands or making (what I assume) communication through a tiny box pinned to their ears to some distant land.

Some, after months of baking like bricks in the sweltering heat, afford a slight look of gratitude above, then continue with their daily tasks unconcerned by the myriad colours of the sky.

This time I visited this city at night. So full of lights it’s like the sky is upside down. Tiny, sparkling dots moving this way and that like ants. I’m going by as ceremoniously as I can when i spot her. A tiny, motionless space in the vast labyrinth of this city perched alone on a rooftop, staring right through me. Her head is fixed above, boring through me, perhaps smiling too. I can’t see her face, she’s only a shadow but I can sense her feeling every gust of wind I’m thrusting below.

This intensity and passion; I haven’t felt this from human race for a long time. It’s like she wants to reach out- it’s like she’s already reaching out.

I almost wish to swoop her from earth and show her lands and places she’s never seen before, to fill the void in her heart from all the wonder she craves, but I must leave. Humans are too big a burden to bear. To let her know that I was here & I saw her and that her presence, however overlooked by the human race was noticed from above, I send a few raindrops below, assisted by the wind, hoping they land on her skin and she knows. She will.


The weather is lovely tonight. I can only see dying remains of another tedious day from my rooftop but somehow the void is not scary. “And tonight,” I chuckle covertly, I”got company.” The wind. Oh how I love the wind. The sky is a perfect grey. The moon shines and occasionally sends its silver beams my way, sneaking through rolling clouds who always seem to be in a hurry.

I gaze at the moon almost like a wolf. Grateful that I’m here to witness the sky rumbling with unease, a storm in its chest. But I want more. I’ve always wanted more of storms. Wanted to be inside them. I lower my eyes achingly and continue to walk when a tiny, perhaps stray drop of water lands on my eyelid. I look up, my eyes wide. Another one lands on my arms.

“I know,” I smile at the sky.

It didn’t rain on anyone else that night.

Love always,

Your blogger.

말 없는 슬픔 – 사람또사람

First you play the song below, then you read.

I stand under the kitchen light, chopping carrots while the oil in the pot simmers. Every chomp an echo punctuating the song playing on my phone I recklessly placed on the kitchen slab.

It’s a song in a language I don’t completely understand but I feel it sewing itself up to my heart.

I stand under the only lit space in my house. House not home. Rest is all in darkness, with no movement, nothing.

The chopping becomes slow, distracted until with a final thump it ceases. I glance at the perfect empty space around me, what a metaphor for this heart. The song plays like a perfect soundtrack.

If I’m looked at from a distance, there will be a kitchen with a light, with greyish dark around & a girl standing with a knife looking at nothing.

I spend entire days not speaking a word. But my head doesn’t seem to stop buzzing. This imbalance is starting to hurt. My head makes me think of you without a face, all the time.

I’m trying to draw you in my mind.

I remember you told me you loved sunsets. Particularly the ones silhouetted in clouds. Tonight I feel like a sunset too. Except nothing about me is pink. I don’t glow. I am only shrouded in clouds and I’m sinking.

Everything would make sense with you here, even the sinking.

The catch is, I don’t know who you are.



Love always,

Your blogger.

60’s- They’re Back

Okay, you were scrolling and now you stopped. Good. OR maybe you searched a random tag and bumped here OR it was your destiny that you stumbled across this post, either way-YOU’RE ONE LUCKY BASTARD (Pardon Me) as I’m about to change your life.

Note: Read further ONLY if you love music and I mean ACTUAL music not that One Direction and Justin Bieber crap people are selling in the name of music these days. But pure soul music, like from the 60’s when voices were not ‘Auto-Tuned’ and electronic gadgets were not used to brutally ruin a song. When the lyrics were more than just ‘Swag’ and ‘Twerk’ -actual lyrics, poetic lyrics that your mind and heart starts to waltz upon. The kind of music that just clicks somewhere inside, like a silent consent by the heart saying ‘Yeah-that’s it-that’s the real deal.’

Okay, so there’s this artist I stumbled upon the channel of BY MISTAKE and as of till now I can purely and wholeheartedly say it was my best, most cherished blunder. What I usually do when I’m free (which is quite often) is randomly navigating YouTube to find new artists that are not making ‘Auto-Tuned’ music and can actually sing.

And I found him-Jake Bugg-the guy whose very first word uttered in his song captured me in an enigma-that melody-that euphony in his voice. That rustic charm-that purity-that light brush of folk and country. I couldn’t believe, I literally couldn’t come in terms with the fact that when I thought there wasn’t any hope left for music, this guy perked up and saved my life.

So, forgive me *RANDOM-OBSESSIVE-MODE-ON* but after purchasing both of his albums online I started to search every detail about this guy (okay, fine I was stalking-I’M A STALKER-I said it.)

Jake Bugg is a 20 year folk and country singer from Clifton, Nottingham, United Kingdom. From what I found *opens Stalker File-: 254* he’s a pretty recluse guy that keeps to himself and loves making music NOT because of the fame and the glamour but because music keeps him sane (I’ve watched more than a 1000 interviews of him) and most of the time he mentions this. In one of the interviews he said “People make music not just for themselves but for the fame and the glamour that comes with it but that’s not the case here” (Do you see the reason why no one knows him DESPITE being tremendously talented?)


In one of the above the interviewer asked “Do you get exhausted with writing songs constantly and making music?” 

Jake said “It’s not the music or writing songs that’s the exhausting part-It’s the constant talking that is.” 

Anyway, I don’t want to keep rambling about him, if I continue this cherubic rhapsody I’ll probably end up writing his memoir. 😛

To all those interested to know, I come from a musical family (No, no one is a rockstar) but everyone in my family sings well-it’s kind of in our blood. We’re all hopelessly attached to music, my father was a musician of his time, a professional singer who had to quit his passion for a stable career and to look after a family-naturally I was the lucky one to imbibe his gift-his voice. I ended up being incontestably addicted to chords and lyrics.

Always humming a song and tapping my table or door or any hard object I found as drums. I listened to music very differently from others. I’m not trying to be snobby here but it’s the truth. The chords hit me differently, like they’re trying to tell me something, a secret message (cheesy, I know). No one really understands it, I don’t JUST listen to music for recreation, I listen to it because I need it. Like a bee needs it’s regular dose of pollen I too need a regular dose of music to keep me going.

Okay, back to Jake.

Fact: If you happen to search *cough* stalk him, then you’ll get to know he’s called ‘Young Bob Dylan‘ of these times. BEING COMPARED TO BOB DYLAN-CAN YOU IMAGINE and that too by someone like Stephen King? (He specially tweeted about him.) That is how good he is.

Here are two of his songs that’ll prove all of the above points:


Heard? It’s like the 60’s are back right?!

Honestly (and I wouldn’t hesitate) I didn’t want people to know about him. The more famous he gets the more I’ll have to share him with others. The more I’ll feel he’s not mine and eventually all girls will start fangirling him and I’ll be atrociously jealous (as if there wasn’t a massive female following already). But due to the very loyal fan and lover that I am, I’m hereby sharing him with you all. For him to grow and prosper.

So when you too fall in love with his voice and can’t get enough of this beautiful soul, please keep me in your memory and remember that I introduced him to you all.

Jake, this is for you.


There’s this band called ‘The Script’ I don’t know if you all have heard of it, but please do listen to their songs, they’re incredible. So last night, I came to know about the new album they are launching this month. As I had been following them for a while , I couldn’t stop myself from listening to their very first single from this album- ‘Superheroes.’

Wait! Stop right there! NO! Stop thinking of Spiderman or Superman!  Better. Reason why I’m specifically writing about this song is that finally, after what feels like centuries and in this alarmingly increasing era of ‘twerk’ and ‘swag’ there is a song that is euphonious and makes sense. Both the video and the song are intertwined, leading the listener and the viewer towards the beautiful conclusion it carries.

I’ll explain the message of the song (or at least what I took out from it) in the form of a story-:

Yet another morning, my alarm clock blazed a neon 4:00 am. I woke up hearing the fresh chatter of birds. Still sluggish and tired I crawled out of my sheets. Opening my cupboard I made the choice of what to wear between the only two suits I possessed. I went for the grey one and was about to leave but stopped mid-way after seeing that he was awake. “Hey Brandon.” I said to my 7 year old son “I’m going to work, take care of yourself and be the good boy you are.”

He nodded. Brandon never really knew what I did for a living. I guess he only knew that I worked hard and with insurmountable honesty. I saw it in his eyes and in the gleam of pride he felt every time I brought a toy for him from work (if I found one). He traced my steps outside and waved once, I smiled.

And then everything was the same. I reached my area of work. Found a clean spot and changed to a plastic suit. The last thing I wanted was my few possessions getting spoilt. I jolted my way to the heap I was assigned to. And after a few minutes, I was there. Between large stacks of garbage. I was not exactly a garbage collector, my job was even worse. I had to find all the re-usable objects from that stinking pile of trash. Everyday in the early morning the cranes unloaded their filth on us, and we worked till evening, trying to procure the most, after all the garbage was where the bread came from.

I sometimes find something that my son would love. Perhaps a toy soldier with a broken arm or a missing head. That’s all I could manage for a present. And every evening while returning home I find my son waiting for me on the bridge and I sway him up in the air. We laugh and we giggle and talk about how each of our days went. For awhile we forget about everything and walk our way home. Sometimes even buy an ice-cream. It’s always the same. And every night when I crawl in my bed I’m once again struck by the realization of things that lie ahead. What lies for my son. But I close eyes with the final thought that I’m not giving up. Not until I’m alive.

This is exactly what the song explains. A superhero doesn’t necessarily require a red cape or a flying car, he can be anyone. He can be a little girl who helps someone cross the road. He can be a friend who helps tutor you. He can be your teacher who’s chidings make you tough as a marble. He can be a brother protecting his sister or a grandfather teaching his granddaughter to ride a bike.

A superhero can be YOU yourself. When you rescue yourself from something hopeless or you learn to  find a way. You become a hero. You teach yourself and you understand your soul, your very existence. You find your true self and start living with a new zeal. You give a present to yourself.

And lastly, the superheroes who brought you to this world. The people who’s soul existence lies in your happiness and the people who’d work their best to give you the life you want and deserve- your parents. They are the real superheroes. The ones truly worthy of claiming the title. The one who deserve WAY more than they get.

“When you’ve been fighting for it all your life,
You’ve been struggling to make things right,
That’s how a superhero learns to fly.”

Ladies and Gentlemen, presenting the song ‘Superheroes’ by The Script.