Momo Chitte Niti Nritye

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.

To listen:

Rabindra Sangeet

I was introduced to Rabindra Sangeet by Sohini.  All my workshops with her are memorable because their memories vividly float on the canvas of Rabindra Sangeet looped by her during our sessions.  It was overwhelming to be in Kolkata, seated in a bare, sparsely furnished room, dancing and engaging in discussions on personal power and somatic healing while it got dark, foggy and pleasantly cold at 5 in the evening, Rabindra Sangeet floating around all day, accompanying us into twilight! It was all so soulful. Well it had to be, it was Bangla.  I guess the unsubstantiated belief that I must have been Bangla in some century, some life, living in Kolkata stems from my otherwise inexplicably intense love (and longing) for all things Bengali.  


I am discovering new melodies each day.  
For a music lover to discover a new genre of music is like embarking on a melodious voyage of discovering harmony newly, sometimes in an unknown and yet soothing language that feels "one's own" and spending time looped in its beauty in myriad moments of deeply private joy that I, through this blog, painfully and inadequately undertake to share!  I am looped and I fail to convey how...


Sukher Lagi Chahe Prem, Prem Mele Na (used in the end credits of Chokher Bali):