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
Dedicated to my favourite musician in India, Harris Jayaraj
‘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.
Our nights filled with dreams of music as it drifts quietly off into the night sky forming into stars.
Imagine, I am sitting at the piano. Imagine, you come to sit beside me-to join me. And while I am playing, out of the corner of my eye, I see the twinkle in yours. The longing in your eyes, because I caress the keys of the piano so softly, and you hope, that I might, one day, do the same to you. But I am no more than a simple musician. So imagine this, I can play the piano, but I could make you sing.