Connections: Six Degrees of Inner Turbulence.

Artist: Touching Grace
Song: Eastern Sky.


Soul Renditio n

If there ever was a time when the prognostication of Frigyes Karinthy ( of 'Six Degrees of Separation' fame) could be declared true, it is NOW! Social networking sites are shrinking, no squeezing and choking the degrees between us. While the concept of 'keeping in touch' is affable, being forced to do so among acquaintants is a bane. For the instinctively reclusive, networking can be a concoction for perdition. Most of all, networking is fallacious and a whim at best, which is why teens fervently embrace it and 'grown ups' generally don't.

I recently discovered that a genial acquaintant and me were connected on many more levels than what met the eye. In fact, she knew my family well. Suddenly, we were a lot more comfortable and spoke of commonalities, 'old days' and home. Which brings into purview the concept of home. Its where the heart is and hence should rightfully be in Bangalore. Where the rest of the 'heart' clan resides. Where many people know me but few know me, where I chose to keep few 'friends' ( unlike my friends' list on networking sites), thanks to my general tacit demeanor. The fact that I left home, where there was and is no dearth of employment or education, for no real good material reason, got me thinking on why I did so. And the more I think, the more it dawns that I have a penchant, yearning for solitude and change. An overwhelming sense of ennui grips me every time I get comfortable with people or places, even when there is a lot of fun and work to do. Wanderlust is what the Germans would call it, and those in its grip often throw away everything they have (ever) earned, in friendship, love and wealth, for the opportunity to elude familiarity. To go somewhere no body knows you, to go away from 'home'.

Wanderers are the personification of existentialism, the idea of the precedence of existence over essence, the essence of love, belonging, identity and familiarity. The inexplicable conviction with which one denies to consummate love into marriage, pushes away dear ones for strangers, leaves home and family for foreign shores and refuses to associate with tags, castes, religions or creeds. The constancy of solitude even when in a crowd, the chronic feeling of ubiquitous disjunction, the surfeit of poignant anxieties leading to any lack of emotion thereof, the quest for everything in nothing is existentialism.

Coming back to my tryst with the acquaint-ant turned friend, while it gives me immense pleasure to relate, it pains me to explore more. And so continues my masochistic experiments with networking, the bitter-sweet symphony of communication, the bete noire of a shrinking world. In the words of Bruce Springsteen:

Baby this town rips the bones from your back
It's a death trap, it's a suicide rap
We gotta get out while we're young
'Cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run.


Artist: Bruce Springsteen.
Song: Born To Run.


Soul Renditio n

Artist: Greg Baumont
Song: Respire the Devrish.
Comment: Alluding to Deva-rishis ?.


Soul Renditio n

Artist: Vangarde
Song: Oissa.


Soul Renditio n

Artist: Indus Creed
Song: Pretty Child.
Comment: Beautiful use of the tabla. India's first rock band.


Soul Renditio n


Artist: A R Reheman
Song: Tere Bina.
Album: Guru (OST).


Soul Renditio n

Artist: Touching Grace
Song: Wild Spring Apples.
Comment: Buy these guys: http://magnatune.com/artists/touching_grace


Soul Renditio n

Artist: Touching Grace
Song: Sunday Driver.


Soul Renditio n