Thursday, May 26, 2011

Kanavil midhakkum

Another morning song with hints of rain. Even though it’s an 80s composition, you hear it much, much later. There is no recollection of it getting any airtime either. Perhaps it was too experimental, you think. There’s a certain chirpiness, a sense of light heartedness that’s accentuated by the rain that’s just beginning to land on the windscreen. Not time for the wipers yet, you’ll be at your destination by the time it starts to pour. But right now, sitting in a steel and glass cage on the road, you still feel free listening to this song. It’s liberating. You journey to a breezy seaside place during one interlude, and feel the bracing, eucalyptus-scented of hill stations with their long winding wet roads during the other. For some reason, you remember the pretty girl whom used to see on the way to your college, even though you’ve never heard this song when you saw her. It’s not a song. It’s a trip.

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