There have been times when I have had a strong urge to dance. Run. Unstopped and unhindered, except by my own limited stamina. I could have run pretty much anywhere today. And I did. While I ideally imagine running on a narrow stretch of wet land, preferably where the sea meets the sand, I went running in some by lanes, off the main road. They are pretty lanes, lined with bungalows and flanked by trees that, in several spots form canopies overhead. It is only fortunate that the city continues to be in bloom. The sprinkling of loose petals and cool water droplets from the branches above, on cheeks flushed and hot with all the running.... Does nature ever stop giving?
The urge to run and dance for hours must be listened to. It must get its outlet and gloriously at that. Dance and run until the legs hurt, the body sweats, a beautiful rhythm takes over and moves your body long after you think you are too tired to move another step. And when you stop, you want to feed your body, hydrate it, respect it, marvel at it, love it and yet know that you glimpsed something more, beyond and bigger than you or your body, that was working its magic on you. A stillness settles, sometimes visible as the radiance on your face.
And I look to Tagore who writes and puts to tune very elegantly what only noisily flutters in my mind.
For the words and English translation, see here.
For the words and English translation, see here.
To listen:
