I touched upon Indians not making it easy for others to appreciate their art recently. I then mused about the melting pot that is India, and how difficult it can be for Indians to appreciate their own regional arts. Hence I would like to experiment sharing my affection of a Marathi song, and see if
Round and round Mentally unsound On shaky ground Insecurity abounds The mind whirls Emotion swirls Dreams unwind Destiny unkind One hopes To elope But one is bound To one’s ground To escape this cage Needs an adage No need to cry One is born to fly
Personality is like a rose Everyone likes it It attracts for a couple of days And is then thrown away Character is like chlorophyll Not many know about it It’s not visible But it sustains life on earth.
I amTherefore I breatheI amTherefore I live To live or notThat is the questionTo breathe or notThat is the dilemma Moments of panicThat are tragicI am lethargicThere’s need of some magic UncomfortableUnstableUnableTo be stable I am hurtBut I won’t be curtThe situation does hurtWho’ll clean up the dirt? I will tryNot to cryIt’s about timeFor
I can hear what you sayI sense we’re in a bindI can touch what you saySo what if I’m blind? I understand youBetter than most othersEngulfed in your hairSmelling the flowers The perfume of your hairLifts me out of despairThe darkness everywhereAsks me, do I dare? Am I fit to be your lover?Blind, willing to
If I were a tear in your eyesI would lie on your cheeks and die on your lipsBut if you were a tear in my eyesI would never cry in fear of losing you (Composed by a friend)
Sputnik soaredAtlas ShruggedMankind roaredEarth unplugged Start of a space raceWhat a disgraceAmidst all the paceWho lost their face? Fifty yearsCommunism shatteredMan yearnsHis dreams shattered Ayn Rand publishedRussia extinguishedGalt spokeThe world awoke Dagny TaggartA railroad at heartTorn apartYet, a work of art Hank ReardenBeneath a burdenRefused a pardonBecame a guardian FranciscoActed like in a discoHis characterMuch