Life, Songs















I stumbled upon this particular track one afternoon while having my fish curry and jeera rice and I fell in love. The enticing fish curry on my pallet had to wait for the next few minutes whilst my eyes were affixed at the lofty music video playing. I was entranced. I couldn’t wait to read those captivating words. I scavenged the nooks and cranny of the world wide web and found absolutely zilch. So I decided to write them down. And here it is. A glorious composition by the Bandish Projekt – ALCHEMY. ~ Jouir ~



~ Lyrics ~

Down with dog position, locust, cobra, standing tree.
I am the motherland expanding, pregnancy unplanned in the 21st century.
More than our people, our culture, our country, I’m ALCHEMY.
Raag main taal, rhythm and Melody.
Conceived when Shiva breathe the kiss which died on the lips of his bride Parvati.
Desi, Gora ,Kala I’m every grain of rice in your Basmati, every spice in your Garam Masala.
I’m the turmeric stain on your Gandmother’s hands.
I’m eena meena dika die dama nika retika flames on your penial gland.
I’m the mala beads slipping through her fingers like display seed of sands through an hour glass.
I’m the jigsaw made from the shattered fragments of the past, pieced together in a way that works for us.
A billion strong and uprising and it’s impossible to ignore us.
The interwoven chorus of Bengali,Gujarati, Kannada, Marathi, Hindi, Kashmiri, Malayalam, Nepali, Punjabi, Sindhi, Telugu, Tamil or Urdu
Ginger, Chilly and Garlic.
Brahmin, Kshatriya, Dalit… Touch me for I’m no longer untouchable.
Capable, practically inescapable.
No longer unaccountable.
I’m an accountant, I programme your IT.
I’m the Chai, Latte, Ice Tea..
That the Chai Wala stares at Moongfalis…
He sighs .. On the rise of the middle class whispering their upwardly mobile mantra.
Thank God almighty, I am free at last.
I sing “Tumhi ho mata Hindustan” as I smoke beedis, chew paan and watch Bollywood DVDS starring Akshay Kumar and Shahrukh Khan.
Remixing Prayanaam by whispering my mantra  ~”I am a disco dancer” under my breathe.~
Profound, primitive and superstitious. Spread of Canada to Australia, Trinidad to Mauritius…
I will always be INDIA.
The impoverished child that bangs the window of your ambassador car.
The old man who instead of clapping his hands simply says “Arree WAAAAHHHH”
I am Saraswati whose veena was later remixed into the shape of a sitar just like “Om mane padme hum ” of the tabla drum became the “ta teri kit…tera te…” to turn tables and a mixer.
I am the rickshawala.
I have the white Tiger, a survivor rising up in the drive to progress.
I am the distressed heart of Delhi, Calcutta’s cloaked streets, Bombay’s blocked arteries and an accumulation of stress…yessss!
In the land of Ustad Ali Akbar Khan and Kaun Banega Crorepati, Krishnamurthy, Vivekananda, Tagore and Arundhati, and pot bellied
elephant headed superhero, Ganpati.
Om Shanti…
I am the monk’s saffron rope. I am the scent of the cinnamon, cardamom, clove. I am the air thick with the rain and the funk of the monsoon.
I am the silver moon that Shiva wears for hair clip.
I am the unsanctioned love marriage between Bharatnatyam and backflip.
Converse trainers under Kurta pajama and salwaar kameez.
I am the thunder of the storms on the horizon weeping the solidified tears of Rudraksha beads.


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