Melancholic Ecstasy - Indian Ocean

Firstly, please make yourself less scarce of the track that forms the basis to this post, by clicking here.
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This post is my first 'significant action' after my exams ended today.

Melancholic Ecstacy, the piece, has a lot more depth than just the seemingly oxymoronic title, which has become pretty much the norm these days.
It is primarily divided into two parts, the second at a faster tempo than the first.

However, before we get into that, let us proceed in order of chaotic inanity.
Every single moment that this piece spends with you, is filled with a world of boundless emotion (not that anything by the name or nature of bounded emotion exists under or above the sun). The beginnings are reminiscent of what we would call a blissful, aloof kind of joy. But if you look carefully, you would find the underpinnings of a very potent, inescapable moroseness.

Yes, I know my perceptions are coloured by the lens that the song title so easily places on me, but that shouldn't really matter. MAYBE I'd have found a logical conformity to a title like "Endless highs in a time unkempt", I guess that would just prove the adage of all things coloured lying in the (coloured lens adorning) eyes of the beholder.

Anyhow, returning to the issue at hand.
As I was saying, every syllable hits you like a multi layered mass of varied emotions. At this point I must add, the starting guitar work pretty much spells out melancholia, before the hues get enmeshed in their beautiful kaleidoscope worlds. That point on, every once in a while you chance on this voice (invisible, yet louder than many that one hears) convincing the elements around it, of the wonders that surround it, and the many reasons one should be happy happy happy. The appeals get more and more plaintive with each passing second. And then, the camera takes a gradual zoom out, and you see just why the blues are so immovably attached to the little unassuming drops of joy. Every little spirit that had thus far been romancing its domain-mates with the tender and pure affection of a little child, suddenly realizes the rhetoric of it all. As the hopelessness, and sheer inevitability of the situation comes crashing down on them, one can't help but feel that little pang of blue coloured compassion.

But,
as the scene progresses, one is surprised to see the little muses picking themselves up, dusting the invisible overalls on their invisible bodies, and getting back to that which they have been doing since time immemorial; that which is their duty; that which defines the very purpose of their existence.
Back come the sweet-little-nothings, and the entire entourage. Now, the second part has arrived. The camera has zoomed out on the time and the 5th dimension. Viewing the play from here, one observes the underlying beauty of this tender conflict. One sees the two sides for what they truly are. One sees the essential meaninglessness that both would be reduced to without the other. One sees a hand labelled X, playing its part behind all this commotion. It is a carefully balanced ecosystem, both infinitely intricate and self sustaining at the same time. One sees the eternally blissful children tugging away at their mother's skirt, pointing away at every little butterfly/frog/chocolate/shinchan that catches their fancy; one sees why Tagore had said that true happiness is that of the children, for they make up for the deficiencies in what they see, with the music of their innocence and bliss (Thanks Akshay, and pardon the inaccurate quote); one sees the inevitability of "reality" dawning on the cheery little minds, and the process of "learning" getting about its job; one then sees the eternal strivings of that child, to see the world for what it should/could/would be; its tireless efforts at keeping itself alive in the face of all adversity; the potential for eternal futility rearing its paralyzing head, and YET, the little bachche getting up, dusting the soil of despair's worst debris off their brightly hued t-shirts and shorts, and checking for damage to their squeaky sandals, and getting on with their business, the business of keeping one alive.

One is alive, as long as one is alive. The moral of the epic drama played out in this piece is, simply, take a long hard look at your self, and treasure it, embrace it, love it, in due cognizance of its real worth.

Its amazing how in the course of writing this post, I've been blessed with one more definition for that virtue of virtues, Hope.

Hope, is "Melancholic Ecstacy - Indian Ocean".

Listen to it do.

A thousand sighs...