Tuesday, 2 October 2012

Symphonies On Soggy Saturdays

Its raining gently. The kind of drip drop that keeps you company when you can't fall asleep after a long day, the kind of pitter patter that wakes you up earlier that you wanted to and makes you smile with your head buried in the sheets. An hour back i was lying flat on the bed, listening to the rain singing, and I knew exactly what would best accompany it. So i lay on my stomach and played some symphonies.
  Mozart began. The rain stumbled, then paused respectfully. No one speaks when Wolfgang Amadeus plays, the rain knew the rules only too well. The powerful strains of symphony 25 took control of the air. A restless, vast ocean emerged, growing everything mercilessly in it. The moist remains of the rain blended in quietly in the ocean, giving it a rich blue tinge. As the higher tones set in, a wave rose. Leapt to the highest levels ever, and fell forward with a grace and fullness, a magic that only Mozart wield. Listen for the instantaneous dips and turns, the thrill that builds up, the elation that fills you to the brim. The ocean trotting slowly toward the end. skipping and thinning. To a glorious waterfall. From where it trickles down, like bits of rain. An ocean converged to blue pieces of rain. Symphony 25.
  The ocean poured down. It slapped against the glass of my little window, vying for my attention, blowing wet kisses. But Beethoven was quicker. He took over me with the opening noted of symphony 5.  As the cascading melodies wrapped around my head tightly, the raindrops winked and fell away. I was not in the room anymore, the soggy saturday was gone. I was hooded, riding a black horse, the dogs of war had been let loose. Symphony 5 took me places, to deserts and dark forests, places where i was lost and found again. the rain brought me back each time. Beethoven played stormily, passionately.  The fragile raindrops trembled under his wrath. And then there was silence, more dramatic then ever.
  I closed my eyes to the silence. Downpour. The suppressed raindrops ran down to embrace their new found freedom. The thunder sang bass. They played their own symphony, a musical storm. 
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