This was meant to be about the significance of corona viruses in our scheme of things and the insignificance of us in the Universe’s scheme of things.
Well, maybe the next time…
Right now I’m still a little high from viewing the skies at sunset three evenings in a row from my terrace. Here are a few photos: all I can think of now are the words of Georges Lemaitre (1894–1966): Catholic priest, mathematician, physicist, the cosmologist who first proposed the theory of an expanding Universe which has come to be called ‘Big Bang’ …
“The evolution of the world can be compared to a display of fireworks that has just ended: some few red wisps, ashes and smoke. Standing on a well–chilled cinder, we see the slow fading of the suns, and we try to recall the vanished brilliance of the origin of worlds…”
I love music, but I’m no good at writing about music (or about anything else for that matter :D). Sure, I can play the drums, even fool around a little with a guitar; but I’ve never learned anything about music formally, instead simply picked up things by the heart and ear—and fingers and wrist and all.
I tax thy patience with the above throat-clearing statements, O patient Reader, because I’ve sat down to write a few lines on how thrilled I am to know that the Shillong Chamber Choir is going to perform at the India Music Summit, Jaipur early October.
But I can’t write about the Choir.
I love their music, but I have no words to describe their music and how it moves me. Even if I knew something about music, I wouldn’t dare try. How can one convey the romance and immensity and magic of a clear, starry night in the language of astrophysics?
I won’t even try to describe what kinds of music the Choir performs. It just doesn’t feel right to place any brackets of ‘genre’ around wonderful musicians like these; they sing just about anything they set their hearts and minds on…and they sing it with indescribable beauty and passion.
The Choir has performed across India, across the world. And they come from Shillong, my hometown.
And now, I listen to the Choir’s rendition of ‘When a child is born’…and soar away on the ethereal voices and the timeless wonder and joy and hope they echo:
“…And all of this happens because the world is waiting, Waiting for one child Black, white, yellow, no-one knows But a child that will grow up and turn tears to laughter, Hate to love, war to peace, and everyone to everyone’s neighbour And misery and suffering will be words to be forgotten, forever… It’s all a dream, an illusion now It must come true, sometime soon, somehow All across the land, dawns a brand new morn This comes to pass when a child is born…”