Winter concert

Jeroo, Chirag and I went for a concert last evening. It was the Rosamunde Trio, formed of Martino Tirimo on the piano, Ben Sayevich on the violin and Daniel Veis on the cello.The location was the Shaw Library at LSE, which is a classic British library, the kind you read in the classics. Wooden cupboards with glass casings line the walls. Thick, heavy curtains of the colour burgundy drape the windows. The Steinway piano lies at one corner of the room and upholstered armchairs invite visitors at the other end. A chandelier hangs from the center of the room. I haven't seen a more beautiful library. Well, I allowed myself to be carried away by it's ambience. The concert was a pleasing one and I had no doubt that they were accomplished musicians. Jeroo and Chirag, both being players of instruments, were probably able to appreciate their skills better. 2 of the compositions were Beethoven and Brahms. The third one was called 'Softly in the dusk' composed by a certain composer called Peter Fribbins. It was supposed to based on a poem by D.H.Lawrence called Piano, though the 3 of us were left guessing, because the inspiration that he seemd to have derived from the poem seemed to have been quite different from the ways in which we would have been inspired. The concert went on for close to 90 minutes.
Not very far however , music of a different kind was being played in one of the kitchens of Northumberland. Utham and Tanvi were orchestrating a feast, their instruments an oven, 2 hobs and a few pans. Post-concert I satisfied a hunger that longs for good home-made food. If Rosamunde was music to the ears, U&Twere music to my appetite. My friends, you made the evening perfect.

Woman

Every so often I am asked a question,
whose answer will always remain a mystery.
But this cold winter evening I dare to attempt,
to explain a creation called woman.
Just like a river that gurgles and giggles on it's way from the mountains,
and attains a poised elegance as she flows through the plains,
a woman is the same embodiment of that grace.
She has the capacity to lift the spirits of wearied hearts,
as she steps into a bus or as she walks with abandon on the streets.
If a smile escapes her face, it lights the faces of many.
When alone, she is the dainty rose that adorns the vase,
In the garden of people, she is the daisy, the lily, the orchid, the tulip
She can turn men with hearts of stone,
into poets they never thought they could be.
She is humanity's everlasting symbol of hope, beauty, love.....
I could ramble on, and winter would be past us,
And the birds of spring would soon be chirping for her at her window
The world outside beckons me and as I bring an end to the words I write,
I can only hope I have done justice to the woman in this poem,
The woman in this poem that is you.

Musique

As Agalloch plays in the background and slowly uncovers the layers of memories that lie buried in my mind, I am forced to give an account of my ideas about musicianship. The greatest musicians, I believe, are those that evoke emotion within the listener. The deeper and more thoughtful musicians have the powers to force a revisit to your past. The memories that lie buried deep under times bygone are unearthed by their music, forcing the listener into retrospection, and correspondingly bringing either a smile to the lip or......a tear to the eye. Their capacities are however not limited to releasing the past, they are equally capable of taking the listener into journeys into the future. They can unlock the forces of imagination in the mind, giving one brief glimpses of the limitless possibilities that lie ahead, if only one displayed the courage to venture into the unknown.