The Taste of Freedom


Who can resist perfect strumming? I surrender.

It doesn’t blare; the music doesn’t hurt my ears — even if I’ve turned up the volume to maximum.

What is it about this song? It has no extraordinary opening. Perhaps it’s the crescendo that comes later on— with notes so high and complementing drums.

Or, maybe, it’s the way it changes — no two seconds are same. It rises, and it falls, with unmistakable, yet subtle transitions.

The sound of the music makes me delve within myself, to find that hallow space deep down and do — nothing. It reaches that space just to remind me of its existence.

Every time I replay the song, the tunes scratch the surface of my deepest emotions. It leaves my insides tingling so much that I want to shout, dance, and cry like a maniac — all at the same time. Without looking disturbed myself. Because I don’t feel negative. Just insane peace. Like a slumber in a crisis. Or in the eye of a tornado.

A silence engulfs me just before the ending, and as the final tones die down, the world glares at me again, with its teeth barred.

Same call it escapism. But don’t we all seek art to distract ourselves? To get away from everything — even if only for a while — and enjoy a speck of calm?

I’m most alive when I listen to this song. My mind reels, and even does a tap dance at times. My body lives without my mind’s interference. I feel myself, the real person underneath the messy hair and shabby spectacles.

It’s freedom unlike any other.

Music cuts the leashes that restrain my mind. Once free, I am unaffected even in a throng. I can sit for hours straight caring naught about anything.

I’m above it all. I wonder, I wander.


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