Lived quite a life
No expectations
Happiness is overrated
Joy is needed, but where is it

He would battle life
in ways others couldn't see nor be
New beats are always demanded
A melody is needed, he is it

Good isn't good enough
Spoiled and you're forgotten
The waves wash away
the traces in the flat sand

Not much sunlight,
just a cold yesterday afternoon
that struggles to welcome the night
and darkness appears too soon

(He's so naïve. It will come)

Only he knows if he's lost
or where to be found
yet he's the cold yesterday afternoon
that fights to stay warm

He's too naïve, a soul in the storm
a desire to shift and reborn
yet bound by fate, rough and torn
he lives to play and perform.

It always sounds much better in an empty room
where the smell of leather sticks like a perfume
and the deficit of attention drowns the thought of you

Some place where perspective changes the view
of the perpetual puzzle that takes pieces of you,
and they are aged and altered into something new

The room with a sink, floors tiled, and empty walls,
where you wash your face and you dry it off,
now home to nearly broken strings
echoing
with words only important to me

Ever since the movies "Ghajini" and "Anniyan" were released
About eighteen years ago
I was transformed
From an AR Rahman enthusiast
To a Harris Jayaraj fanatic
He is not only a music director
But also an artist par excellence
When you listen to some of his songs
Your feet begin tapping
Right from the word go
Some songs evoke a plethora of conflicting emotions
Happiness, sorrow, amazement, shock
Love, hatred, excitement, a sense of calm
And the list goes on and on
However, the best among the lot
Are undoubtedly the lilting melodies
Particularly the ones sung by Bombay Jayashri
Even the most bitter cynic
Can transform into a hopeless romantic
After listening to such gems
Then there are the "soup songs"
Every man or woman
Who has gone through a heartbreak
Or for that matter, a divorce
Derives a lot of solace from such beauties
Which have the capacity
To tug at your heartstrings
And finally
There are the "kuthu songs"
These will make you dance all night
As if there were no tomorrow
However, more than the songs
It is Harris' background music
Which transports you into a different planet altogether
Many movies which might have flopped otherwise
Have become hits
Thanks to the BGMs
Composed by this incredible gentleman
If movies can be compared with cricket
The actors are the eleven players
With the 12th man being the music composer
And when that composer is Harris
The team's victory is almost guaranteed
Dear Harris Sir, we have listened to your music
For more than two decades
It is our sincere wish and prayer
That you make a strong comeback
Like Australia did against South Africa a few days ago
After being seemingly down and out at one stage
And amaze us all once more
With the kind of magic you used to produce
During your heydays
Something that cannot be replicated
Even by Professor Dumbledore or Lord Voldemort

‘A festive song for thy ears’,
Sang the jovial busker;
Brimming with gratitude,
With pennies of silver
Or the coppers from well-worked hands,
The heavy gold of the rich;
Once weighed down pockets
Generously giving.
‘A festive song for thy hearts’,
Sang the jovial busker;
Playing with precision,
With clarity and care
Or the subtlety of pristine art,
The blending sound of the voice
Soothingly warming.