the world i speak of, the one where we want to go.

The following is inspired by the song, “Have I Told You?” by Matthew Mole.

7:57 PM | 11 April 2020



writing a song about the life we want,
of rain and sun, and whisper fights and all;
the world i speak of, the one where we want to go.

eating by the road-side stall, watching the little heavens.
salt and pepper on their food,
brothers and sisters on their seats;
the world i speak of, the one where we want to go.

air flying with our hair, my favourite music
playing through our Black Beauty;
the world i speak of, the one where we want to go.

indie music and qawaalis in the background,
sitting on the carpet, beading flowers like the one you have;
the world i speak of, the one where we want to go.

stormy rains and thundering clouds,
some salt in the air; tangled hair –
the world i speak of, the one where we want to go.

away from this paper, away from this noise,
away from the sickness, away from the darkness;
the world i speak of, the one where we want to go.


i hope i’m listening it right, but
there’s too much noise in this silence.
but it’s just me, it’s just us;
the world around us has dimmed.

everything fades into a halo –
this is all the magic; it’s
the world i speak of, the one where we want to go.

Tycho – A Walk

screenshot_2018-07-05-20-51-44-1781894306.png
A still from Tycho – A Walk.

She suddenly draws in her breath – like the secret in that slow walk before you enter a room and shout “surprise!” – and you expect her to shatter your folly with her golden philosophy. Except that a heavy musical greets you. It is a surprise.

My meeting with this instrumental was also a surprise. Searching for an old classic, I had accidentally stumbled upon this.

So Tycho’s ‘A Walk is my drive. A smooth drive in a quiet, black car as the little droplets of rain hurriedly fall on its roof – falling slowly, aren’t they? – racing against each other to listen to the symphony that it was creating between something and everything. Outside, the sky is velvety black and the grey clouds are safely hidden away in the excitement of the shy, uncertain, future.

A deep breath here, a faraway look there.

The heart matches its beat with A Walk. You look out of the car window and see a storm behind but you do not press the accelerator. You can’t alone, can you? You can’t. So you drive ahead at the same speed till you realise just how tired, how very tired you are, but you don’t turn down the volume. You can’t. You wait. You wait for your favourite bits to come again so you can ignore the world and the taxes, and the elections, and all that nonsense that the morning newspapers shove down your throat. And as you are bravely waiting, you realise that Tycho’s A Walk is about to end and that it will never play by itself again. Never? Maybe. See the artwork of this album; you don’t know if the sun is rising or setting, do you? And just like that, you don’t know where you are – going or coming.

The path is really long.