In reality, there are no words to express what I feel upon news of your death. Like you always said, emotions-the intangibles…can words ever really do justice to their depth or spectrum? I quite doubt. And yet, an attempt to outpour…
The seven notes of music, in various permutations and combinations, create symphonies. Each one of us is a symphony. Each symphony relates to certain other symphonies, and in association, creates music.
You were a symphony I could relate to. And together, we created music. In fact, you were a part of every music that rose from within me. Like Dagny points out, it had become impossible to think of one without the other. Two butterflies that savoured the world around, one still new to the world and its ways…the other wise from an inherent wisdom and the experiences journeyed through. I love what someone wrote about you- you carried within you the wisdom of the hills.
Given a choice between the sea and the mountains, it is the mountains I love. Magnanimous structures in silent acceptance of the world of which they are a part. It is as if they have learnt that their magnanimity is of no significance. Where did these giant creatures learn the lessons of tranquility? They guard within them a wisdom and maturity that can only come from age and sensitivity. They are ancient…as old as the earth to which they belong, and they have a past to speak. They possess a beauty born out of years of moulding to the play of the forces of nature- the sun, the wind, thunder and lightning, the rain…
On the contrary, the sea rages and protests and threatens. The sea secrets are different from the mountain secrets.
It is amazing how many things in day to day life take my thoughts to you. When I listen to an Ilayaraja composition, mesmerized, I know you would have loved it too. Perhaps you might not really have, but I knew you would have merged with my mind to experience the same emotions that break out in my mind. I feel I know you as well as I know myself, simply because your mind had the ability to fly. It would just leave the tree that was Ravi, and embark on a journey that I would want to take. You would never lead…you would follow (with your wisdom of the hills 🙂 You would sense my exhilaration…my anxiety…my fear…and you would gently steer me to what I really wanted, without really ‘leading’ me.
In our independent lives, we were into different disciplines. But for the ones who see the intangible, the essence of each of these diverse disciplines is the same, for they all connect at some fundamental level to life and to creativity. I see in physiology the same essence you saw in chemistry. And that is the source of the spark…the passion…the inspiration. I read an excerpt by your student, quoting you as ‘Throw those Indian authors away!’. I know what you meant…by no means demeaning the nation…but throw the books that teach you to score in exams without getting anywhere near the concepts…killing the last remnants of creativity in the student’s mind. Books that kill one’s thoughts…one’s learning process…
Sometimes, there is the sudden urge to send you an e mail despite the awareness that no reply shall come. But then, if I gather my thoughts closely and perceive you, I can almost tell what you would have replied. That makes me realize that you had instilled into all of us a bit of yourself- all the ones you touched…and in that sense, you are immortal. You preserved for me the perception of the beauty of our interactions. Even in your physical absence, I can relive the emotions our interactions always created. In some ways, you are more alive within me now than you were while you lived. For when you were alive, your mortal form lived far away. But now, you only live within me.
These days, I find myself collecting every footprint you left in this world, so as to be able to add more strokes to the sketch I have of you in my mind…so I can have a more complete picture of you…so you can seep into deeper recesses of my mind.
Like someone wrote:
“Like my young wards , I am spellbound when a beautiful flower suddenly appears my way.
I am delighted by the colors that abound and the fragrance which fills my senses.
When the flower starts to wilt, I don’t cast it away , but preserve it gently in my book of thoughts. If perchance ,I come upon that page, I take a while and once again savor all the moments when the flower was in its full bloom, and…. Move On….”
Or better still, sow the very seeds that were your mind within my mind…and when the plant grows and the flowers blossom, you will be born again.
In the end, I have to say this. For the last 2 days, I have been listening to an Ilayaraja composition. It seems to have done what words can’t. Music perhaps does more justice to emotions than do words. And this particular composition…it creates in me a peculiar mix of ache and joy, that together amount to you. The ache is the loss of you…and the joy is the experience of you.
Hugs and lots of love…Can you feel it from where you are?