The point of poetry and music?

Whats the point in poetry? I cant understand poetry. Poetry is not for me. I don't see the purpose in poetry. What can you make in poetry, the money is in fiction right?. These are a few quips to which I had absolutely no answers to when my book of poetry was published around the same time last year. But one morning on a ride to work, i found my answer. It was an absolute bugger of a morning. Heartaches, lost feminist battles, uncouth co-inhabitants - life was a bore. All I could think of was singing a long lost poem. "Ambigai pennea anandam paadida vaa.." as I sang those lines... each line filled me with joy, laughter and a firm belief that some of the lines were written exclusively for me, one song led to another I kept singing my favourite songs and with each song every line that was well written lifted a veil of depression that clouded my mind. When the poems spoke about life - I saw my life reflected in them, when they commented on a broken heart - i could feel the catharsis taking place within, when the refrains were on the inevitability of situations - my shortcomings made sense, when they proclaimed wonder - i could see a spark of divine in all forms of life. Only poetry can allow a person to cherish a stray word in isolation without any context whatsoever - contexts however explicit are immaterial to poetry and that is the beauty of a poem, it could be written for anyone for any reason but the way it speaks to you changes constantly based on your own needs - a poem doesn't require a context - it is the context that requires a poem - to give it meaning , to  make it bearable.  And that my friends is what poetry can do to you if you could just let it. Every song, every poem is an expression of a person's innermost desires, passion, beliefs, and inadequacies. Every thought in every poem can help you and me in making sense of all the chaos that clouds life if only we can see beyond the what's the point of poetry perspective. Yes! I don't make money out of poetry because poetry is not meant to be a money making exercise, in fact I don't think it is even meant to elicit a response - it is meant to feed a spiritual need which people who measure everything with the yardstick of input vs output will never understand. In the vicious cycle of beginnings and ends the only eternity is love and poetry seeks to serve that love and no one else.

ek bheegi shaam

 

HISTORY repeats itself… there's hardly any reason to believe otherwise. I had given up hope of finding a someone, I would grow to love, who would say 'please stay - a few more minutes" and mean it. But - I did. Out of nowhere he walked into my life. He was this endearing, happy, peaceful human being, the likes of master Shifu. We met at a guest house, in sylvan surroundings. It rained the proverbial rain and we spoke into the night. I sang, he listened, we spoke about books and poets and snow and sun… oh yes and lost track of time. Suddenly, "Oh, time for you to leave I suppose? Let me walk you to your bike, better still, I'll come with you on the bike and get off some place, that way I will get a few more minutes with you." My mind voice "WHaaat? Really? Did I hear you right?". Why was this so important to me? I didn’t know. I guess I was just used to people saying please leave, your choice to stay or leave… a little too often and here was someone who wanted ten more minutes with me. I felt 17 again. That’s just a number.

 

I left … he said we'll meet again. I believed. I smiled. In all my joy, I called him - silence, messages - silence. he didn’t respond - I was disappointed - end of story everything else written above doesn’t matter. History repeats itself… there's hardly any reason to believe otherwise.

 

But then history may also add a few pages to its past while repeating itself right. Make do for the errors, right a few wrongs. Despite all my ego and heartache – I called him one last time. No response. He called back. "we're very simple people, we lead a very simple life, nothing can go wrong. Good you called. Was just held up with something new and haven’t had time to breathe. Been wanting to call you" He said. Nothing else mattered and I… well! We'll meet again he said and this time we did.

 

I was riding back from work across the lake and suddenly the phone rang, "ennamma kuzhandai eppadi irukkae?" awwwwww… that endearing voice, that child like abandon, that disarming smile all at once. "Hey… what a surprise!" I said and hid my excitement. "So where exactly are you now?" He asked, "Right next to the place I dropped you off last time." (Poetic Justice) I replied. "Oh good! Just take a left turn and meet me at the west gate, I'm here" "You're here? Really when did you land? How long are you here?" I enquired. "Areh… How does it matter, I am here, I want to see you even if it means we're spending only half an hour together." I smiled, I cried, I felt warm. I went, he was there waiting and then… well! The rest as they say is … HISTORY.