ODed on Roshan yesterday.
Listening to Swapn jhade phool se brought back vividly those times in Chennai. My housemates and I had a lovely big old-fashioned house: it had that red oxide flooring you never see these days and blue limestone walls. Airy, sunny and very homey. We had some fun times with our wide assortment of friends – the occasional party but mostly lounge-about times with tea and lots of conversation.
Manoj and I were the Hindi film music crazies in the group. One time this song played, and that was it – we went nuts in appreciation of Neeraj’s every evocative line in that poem, examining the cadences, the broad sweeping visuals he creates – giving us flashes of blissful happiness and contrasting that with the bleak devastation that follows. (I have never understood the context of the song in the movie, but the piece stands alone.) We were so caught up in the exhilaration of the song, and also of course, finding another person who felt the same way that we bored everyone else to tears.
I have no idea where Manoj is now. The regret is almost keen – I have not found so many friends or kindred souls that I can afford to be careless.