A kite soars,
sans a string, above
crowded streets and
the wind whistles a lengthy tune,
steering it over curry leaf trees
that cough up a stiff, browning
breeze to caress its paper- mache
cheeks, rerouting its soul
to wild, weightless worlds.
I think I can commute long distances without listening to music. I am also confident about typing a full sentence using just my big toe. But these are things I don’t want to find out. Music has, during my weekend trails, made a long-distance swimmer out of me. Only while birding for bonuses through bus windows or striking up a conversation with a passenger do I put my headphones away. I have forgotten to pack trekking shoes, towels and torchlights on several occasions; never my precious headphones.
I no longer have favorite bands or songs or albums. I have plenty of time for any form of good music . And I have playlists. They are like a favorite pillow, whether soft cushions or the gently-aching belly slopes, on which I can sleep peacefully.
A 15-track playlist for the silent bus traveler in you.