Reinbert de Leeuw
Should've given Aldo Ciccolini a lesson or two
On how to play
Satie the right way.

Ever since the movies "Ghajini" and "Anniyan" were released
About eighteen years ago
I was transformed
From an AR Rahman enthusiast
To a Harris Jayaraj fanatic
He is not only a music director
But also an artist par excellence
When you listen to some of his songs
Your feet begin tapping
Right from the word go
Some songs evoke a plethora of conflicting emotions
Happiness, sorrow, amazement, shock
Love, hatred, excitement, a sense of calm
And the list goes on and on
However, the best among the lot
Are undoubtedly the lilting melodies
Particularly the ones sung by Bombay Jayashri
Even the most bitter cynic
Can transform into a hopeless romantic
After listening to such gems
Then there are the "soup songs"
Every man or woman
Who has gone through a heartbreak
Or for that matter, a divorce
Derives a lot of solace from such beauties
Which have the capacity
To tug at your heartstrings
And finally
There are the "kuthu songs"
These will make you dance all night
As if there were no tomorrow
However, more than the songs
It is Harris' background music
Which transports you into a different planet altogether
Many movies which might have flopped otherwise
Have become hits
Thanks to the BGMs
Composed by this incredible gentleman
If movies can be compared with cricket
The actors are the eleven players
With the 12th man being the music composer
And when that composer is Harris
The team's victory is almost guaranteed
Dear Harris Sir, we have listened to your music
For more than two decades
It is our sincere wish and prayer
That you make a strong comeback
Like Australia did against South Africa a few days ago
After being seemingly down and out at one stage
And amaze us all once more
With the kind of magic you used to produce
During your heydays
Something that cannot be replicated
Even by Professor Dumbledore or Lord Voldemort

‘A festive song for thy ears’,
Sang the jovial busker;
Brimming with gratitude,
With pennies of silver
Or the coppers from well-worked hands,
The heavy gold of the rich;
Once weighed down pockets
Generously giving.
‘A festive song for thy hearts’,
Sang the jovial busker;
Playing with precision,
With clarity and care
Or the subtlety of pristine art,
The blending sound of the voice
Soothingly warming.

The soloist closes their eyes and leans in to play their instrument,
an intertwined movement as the musician and their tool becomes one.
An ever so subtle look of one who loves to that which is intimate,
knowing the sentiment that was formed now may never be undone.

The dance is bittersweet as the moment has already began to fade,
a beautiful sight with the undertones of a melancholic symphony.
Even though the house lights stayed a lit and the music swayed
the musician could see the end coming of this moment so vividly.

This temporary music spreads out into infinity,
where all is left is the memories.
Notes and undertones that almost approach divinity,
where all is left is the reveries.

The house lights went out, the soloist left gasping for air.
Every delicate sensation overwhelmed but they didn't care.