thesocratespot: LIII - Annie and the Underworld 1

thesocratespot: LIII - Annie and the Underworld 1: Annie was disgusted, the guy Schreidhorn, who impressed her at Oxford and then who happened to also meet her at the Cambridge get toge...

LIII - Annie and the Underworld 1

Annie was disgusted, the guy Schreidhorn, who impressed her at Oxford and then who happened to also meet her at the Cambridge get together.Kind of impressed her. 

He introduced himself as Shrek, and he had carried out an impressive talk on Schopenhauer, during Oxfords Golden Jubilee conference of the John Locke lecture series, they were then together at the after party, Prof. Bernstein had to attend to several other friends and  acquaintances - Annie’s presentation on the potential of Nucleic, Cellular and Cosmic aspects of Philosophy was simply the most sensational presentation at the conference, Prof. Bernstein had introduced her as his enemy and nemesis to the audience.

Annie proved it.

With such aggression.

Many of Prof. Bernstein’s colleagues, friends and admirers were left a bit burnt.  

But should Annie care ?

Not the least .

When it came to her subject she was merciless.

Ruthless.

Brutal.

Her points even during the ‘Q & A’ post presentation were so well researched and presented, even the most senior luminary present had to take cover in case he , she entered the post presentation Q & A session with a question.

But once all that was over, she was out partying.

She jumped in with this new wondeerboy ‘Shrek’ and was off plundering various eastern Philosophy myths like Shiva the mystique, Rama of Ethics and Krishna of love, sex and erotica.  Durga the feminine barbarian.

To defend ‘Shrek’ , he was indeed brilliant, but he was so brilliant he felt every other fellow human equally intelligent, he couldn’t help ‘coz otherwise he couldn’t relate with the world around him .

Other things like Music, Rock n Roll were etc’s of his intellectual life.

Nothing much.  

When Annie met ‘Shrek’ , he was way too enamoured by her, he simply had no words to describe the feeling, while She was taking all the envy, the admiration, the patronage, the jealousy , the hate and the wish that ‘I wish I were Annie’ feeling among many, with nervous and ‘not quite natural’ aplomb.

They kept bumping on each other , since the after theme party was that of an impromptu rotating Tango party where the moment the music started you had to dance with the person standing next to you.

When the music stopped you just let her go.

You could talk to her . Hold her.

Even propose.

But then it’s entirely different with Annie.   

It was then that he proposed a Rock n Roll + Trance show follow up at Lisbon, over a rare Depeche Mode + Tiesta concert.

Pretty rare.

He was this 6’ something, white, glib talking, reasonably savvy, had a swagger of a confidence that seemed to be something of an embellishment meant to make men, women, girls swoon and eat from his palms.   

And it worked . Famously.

Listen, give a 6 footer with a face of a Asian slum pig and a matching body and gait.

Women, across any part of the world will still love him just for physical fantasy.

Listen Physics matter . They do.

But then , often chemistry matters too.

So

Love

Infatuation

Doubt

Infatuation

Doubt

Vomit

size

Love

Clarity

Doubt

Height

Love

Empathy

Sympathy

Pity

Love

Hate

Doubt

Colour

Intellect

Style

Food

Habits

Tongue

Saliva

Alcohol

Wretched

Doubt.

Wretched

Doubt.

Rage, Row, Anger , Disgrace.   

Yet

Love.

That’s love. 

thesocratespot: LII : Yours truly

thesocratespot: LII : Yours truly: Faith is a generic word Love, God , Religion too very, very generic Mother Father Brother Sister Wife ...

LII : Yours truly

Faith is a generic word

Love, God , Religion

too

very, very generic

Mother

Father

Brother

Sister

Wife

Husband

Daughter

Son

Generic

Generic

Generic

Friendship?

Archaic.

Stop laughing .  

Work

 is the only serious word

you either

work

or

you

die

unemployed .

thesocratespot: LI : The verse

thesocratespot: LI : The verse: It wasn't like what it was something kept changing something kept clawing eating, cutting, searing yet something remaine...

LI : The verse

It wasn't like what it was

something kept changing

something kept clawing

eating, cutting, searing

yet

something remained

but

something slipped

yet

something grabbed

yet

something simply

blew up

and then

something

shut itself

so completely

out

completely

there was no world

no sky

no brothers

no sisters

no one

No mother

either

nothing  

Well that

Something

Remained

What I’m

What I call

Me. 

thesocratespot: L- Milonga Economics and The Tango at Lisbon.

thesocratespot: L- Milango Economics and The Tango at Lisbon.: Ann was not back at the Harvard, She was with a new date She met at Cambridge, they were both doing the rounds around Lisbon. Dan wa...

L- Milonga Economics and The Tango at Lisbon.

Ann was not back at the Harvard, She was with a new date She met at Cambridge, they were both doing the rounds around Lisbon.

Dan wasn’t in Bolivia, Henry Hoffman, his Editor-In-Chief, had called and asked him to proceed to Buenos Aires instead.

Dan and Ann weren’t together, they had split, disgusted with the event at The Royal Albert Hall, London, but they both knew their whereabouts.

For Dan the story was that the European economy was tanking and a few American and African neighbours were responsible.

But that wasn’t the reason the Generals had their guns out. Suddenly the political map of 2 of the planet’s most ancient Continents, except South Africa, had turned themselves suburban, they were either trapped under a Military rule or were caught in a civil war or were experiencing chaos and Anarchy.

And Reuters sensed that somehow the events were leading to a World Wide crisis. And they knew Danny was the best to collect the ground level perspective.

As to Ann She was with a Student of Philosophy from the Berlin University, who had come to visit Cambridge on an exchange note, during the conference, found him interesting and then they were off.  

For some Sex, Philosophy and fun.

For Dan it was a sensitive Political assignment.

Buenos Aires was going for another election, it was rumoured that the Ex President Nestor Kirchner’s widow Christina Kirchner was going for the full monty. She had to.

It was all or nothing, for her party The Fronte Paro la Victoria and the tri party confrontation between The Front of The Popular Movement led by Adolfe Rodriguez Saa and The Front For Loyalty belonging to the fast sinking boat of Carlos Menem, a twice President of Argentina, whose popularity was plunging, both in his country and outside, taking away the frontline access that he had to the likes of Ronald Reagan, Mikhail Gorbachev, Indira Gandhi, Mubarak and even Zhao Zhiyang the Chinese Premiere during his hay days, he, Menem, was rumoured even for a Nobel.   

Until the day it came to light that he was a part of a corruption scandal into Millions of Dollars and that he was also sympathetic to Iran and Iraq due to the Oil connection.

When Dan landed Argentina was caught in a state of frenzy. He and his friend, Photographer, Brian Messe, were in for a huge amount of action. Daniel always enjoyed watching, observing Nations across different parts of the planet transform themselves from being a weak and insipid Political Economy to a vibrant, thriving buzz. Their cycle often involved vast Political and Civilian struggles to engage and change into a responsible Democratic society and coming to terms with aspects of Capitalism – somehow the two always seemed corollaries.

Democracy and Capitalism – the increasing weakness of Socialism were becoming embarrassing, even to many hard core leftists.      

South America has always been this ‘ we love a political mess’ kind of a continent. While all its political pangs and upheavals across Chile, Argentina, Brazil, or Bolivia, Columbia and Venezuela deserve to be termed more as an aspect of Political evolution and the problems related to citizen apathy than say a corresponding problem of the continent, lying exactly opposite viz Africa.   

Being a crossbreed of Spanish emotions and native American naivety. The region’s emotions- its revolutions, riots, coups were all different in Character in comparison to say a similar coup or a riot in Africa or say in regions like Egypt or Istanbul. Daniel knew the region intellectually since he used to have extensive discussions with his Father’s friend and later his Mother’s companion Arvind.

Arvind had a deep interest in the affairs of almost every country in the world that espoused Leftism.

And used to get quite agitated everytime he came across news that a budding revolution in say Chile or Argentina was thwarted by some Military junta. Or when there was news that the Russian Government had refused to get involved in the Falkland war between Argentina and UK.     

Arvind had through his party administration and their offices a large amount of literature on Eastern Europe, South America, Cuba , Africa and China. He even had extensive access to literature on the Naxal movement and their inroads in the States of West Bengal Andhra Pradesh, Orissa, Madhya Pradesh, Maharashtra, Assam, Manipur, Meghalaya, Nagaland and even neighbouring countries like Nepal and Burma – he called it inputs from his party cadres ‘intelligence units’.

Daniel and Brian, Daniel’s Reuter colleague, went to Political Rallies of all the three incumbent presidents, conducted interviews of important political figures like Duhalde and Ferdinando and strolled into restaurants, took bus drives to Santa Fe and then walked along the Palermo or the Ocean front always looking for the public pulse. All through the days a constant theme that was coming back through all their discussions and meetings was a fear of an impending economic crisis, the possibility of a Nation going bankrupt.       

But despite all the apprehensions life on the streets of the la Telmo, Beunos Aires most favoured Street Shopping and tourist destination was full of Tango, Daniel sometimes found Argentina dancing on until 5or 6 am in the morning. The city’s very own Milonga Tango parties were as wild as a rave night club party in Pataya. The Milonga party locations too kept shifting places but Brian knew all the right keys to land at the best for any night. Brian was a hard worker, who loved his work in the morning and then liked letting his hair down in the night. Once he did that anything was game, Dan often himself sitting outside a brothel or a Milango bar at 2 or 3 in the morning, himself down by at least a few bottles of Argentinean wines and admiring some of the most beautiful women he had ever seen in his entire life. The good part about an Argentine woman is not just her looks, 9 out of 10 young women you meet on the streets of Argentina are intelligent beyond your average global women, they are more assertive and to a large extent grounded and more than willing to be the woman they are supposed to be , She simply did not hide any of her assets, which often included a well rounded political knowledge of both the left and right .

 It was 3 AM as usual Brian was inside a brothel, he had by now become friends with some of the more glamorous prostitutes around Palermo, Daniel somehow was never attracted to the proposition, he preferred the old form of acquiring an asset, and just sex wasn’t really the only objective, it wasn’t like he fell in love with all his women, but he had to come to like them before entering into their physic. Nor was his avoidance of a Prostitute anything moral, he was beyond such traps, in fact he could sit and sip coffee or a drink with a Prostitute and have a healthy conversation about life and the traumas of growing up and such, pay the bill, give a hug and meet again the following day.

Brian was an opposite pole – once the clock struck down 5pm, his mind could only think of Sex , Women and partying.

Dan was beginning to get weary, waiting. For an instant he thought he could call Annie in Lisbon but then decided against it.

Just then his mobile started ringing and he picked it up, to his surprise it was Annie. He picket it up even before he could say Hello, Annie was off talking with a flurry of words, She saying –

“Dan listen, where are you ? You still in Buenos Aires? Ok, great! Its like this I want to get out of this place. Lisbon sucks and this German with whom I came over here is a moron, I want to get out this minute, wouldn’t want to spend a minute more in this place and maybe join you at Monte Video”.

Monte Video was an Uruguayan port that was easily accessible by ferry from Buenos Aires. And click the phone was cut.

Dan tried calling her back, in fact his work in Argentina was finished and he was planning to check out after resting, but Annie was not answering her phone. So he sent her text asking her to call back. But there was no response. Eventually Brian came out, cursing the bitch, saying she fleeced him out, Daniel shook his head in consternation and started walking back to their hotel.

It was about 4AM and Daniel could still hear a number of Milango parties still going strong. Must have been about 8AM in Lisbon.

Buenos Aires was tangoing and so was Daniel’s head.

But while Buenos Aires enjoyed, Dan clearly wasn’t.

Before long he just let go off all the nuclear activity inside his head and simply crashed.  

thesocratespot: XXXXIX The Tropics of Henry Miller be damned

thesocratespot: XXXXIX The Tropics of Henry Miller be damned: They, the group from the Royal Albert Hall, had to report to the Scotland yard, everyone was screened, finally let off. The Mayor, refus...

XXXXIX The Tropics of Henry Miller be damned

They, the group from the Royal Albert Hall, had to report to the Scotland yard, everyone was screened, finally let off. The Mayor, refused to file charges.

Not without a warning to “behave”. 

The Mayor’s family too had come in, they, the siblings, made sure they expressed their love for their Father, by quietly spreading the word that they would soon retaliate at the University, but the problem really was which University ?

Annie had a group from Merton, Oxford and Wembley.

So it was not sure where the group would strike.

Wherever.

Both Annie and Dan weren’t really gonna hang around.

They were from across the aisle.

The Atlantic.

Listen, someone out there felt that the Atlantic is a small Ocean, and the Pacific, the really large Ocean.

It’s so Anglical, these figures and fiduciary maps of Oceans, and then come the description of the Tropics.

Crazy, the Tropic of Cancer, the Tropic of Capricorn,       

Henry Miller be damned.

Today, it’s not as it was imagined.

Cancer had cured itself of its malice. Capricorn was drowning and it needed help.

Between the two floated Annie and Dan.

Call it the Isle of man and woman.

thesocratespot: XXXXVIII Someone puked at Wembley

thesocratespot: XXXXVIII Someone puked at Wembley: They were in the middle of the play. When suddenly a commotion started .  They, Dannie and friends of Annie from Cambridge, were a...

XXXXVIII Someone puked inside The Royal Albert Hall

They were in the middle of the play. When suddenly a commotion started . 

They, Dannie and friends of Annie from Cambridge, were all watching an adaptation of the P.B. Shelley musical epic 'Prometheus Unbound' adapted to stage by Kate Losowsky, an Andy Webber prodigy.

It was being staged at the Royal Albert Hall.  

Danny stood up, to check, suspecting the worst, found it was someone from his group, arguing, he walked through the seats and managed to reach the spot of consternation, by then the sounds were becoming loud.

He checked with one of Annie’s classmate as to what happened.

She told him.

One member from the group who was sitting at the very end of their seat line had stood and then puked , all that she could, onto another person’s trouser sitting on the opposite side. The one who took the puke happened to be the Mayor of Bristol.

Soon a group of good Samaritan belonging to Annie’s friends joined to apologise, another group swished their kerchief, scarf, whatever available to clean the Mayor’s trouser, even as the friends worked hard to control the situation, the Mayor, the hurt party, kept hurling abuses, on colors and racial slurs, by now the Play had been suspended and the Theater Marshalls were seen rushing to quickly delete the situation, but the Mayor wasn’t to be cajoled all that easy, someone had puked onto him, he was a hurt soprano hurling out the choicest abuses,.

Somewhere in the middle of it all Danny decided that the Mayor deserved a whack and he gave it, with his left fist first and it landed right on the Mayors nose, which started bleeding without any delay, by then Annie’s other friends watching also decided that the Mayor deserved more and they piled on, by the time Annie, who was seated at the other end joined it was all too late.

The Mayor was mauled. And the Marshalls clearly knew who were to be blamed. 

The whole play was screwed, and there was blood all over, almost like a riot.

The Royal Albert Hall had a taste of Birmingham.

Via Wembley.           

The Mayor had a good black eye, a swollen lip and was cursing in a language that the Royal Albert Hall was not used to. 

Brown fucking Son's of Bitches.

Even if the one who had actually puked on the Mayor was dutch. 

thesocratespot: XXXXVII Byron , Mary, aMistress , Prometheus...Unb...

thesocratespot: XXXXVII Byron , Mary, aMistress , Prometheus...Unb...: Shelley was a poet of a true poetic mind, depressed, brooding and suicidal   Byron was a Lord. A poet. Masculine, free willed. Depress...

XXXXVII Byron , Mary, aMistress , Prometheus...Unbound - II

Shelley was a poet of a true poetic mind, depressed, brooding and suicidal  

Byron was a Lord. A poet. Masculine, free willed. Depressed, Yes, but all that it was required for Byron was a woman, even a maid servant, will do, was enough, for him to sublimate his idea of life.

Mary Shelley was a god send for him. For Byron, when they met in Italy. Bright, intellectual willing to carry his Childe.

Byron and Shelley’s wife Mary Shelley were good friends. 

While Mary was a little moralistic, Byron had no such qualms. The Chronology of Percy Byshe Shelley’s poetry shows marked change in his approach to poetry by the time he comes across Byron.

Lord.

  

Prometheus Unbound in fact is but ‘Ode to Skylark’ rewritten with a biblical flourish and touché. 

It’s Moses like feel and its Miltonian fight with his creators, its Nietzschean like philosophy and Shelley’s first recorded rebellion – this time showcased against Zeus & Co. for the Theft of Fire - is a collective effect of Mary Shelley and Byron working in Collaboration with Shelley.

Shelley as a person was more a pure poet, lost in its metaphorical ‘naiveness’, it was Mary and Byron who brought him down to the Byzantian life.   

Don Juan turned, churned, returned.

Childe Harold rejuvenated.

 Prometheus, Unbound. 

thesocratespot: XXXXVI Annie's butt and Milton

thesocratespot: XXXXVI Annie's butt and Milton: They were back at the hotel, now, it was late in the evening, just when they were getting ready, both nude, both had their Cigarettes and ...

XXXXVI Annie's butt and Milton

They were back at the hotel, now, it was late in the evening, just when they were getting ready, both nude, both had their Cigarettes and their drink glasses on the table, but neither was conscious about it, both were trying on things to wear for the show, to go to the Royal Albert Hall, to catch the show, Prometheus Unbound, by Kate Losowsky, a Andrew Lloyd Webber prodigy, somewhere around they realised that it was Daniels B’day.

22^nd Jul.

He was drunk and he couldn’t care less. He was already swinging, and he had enough weed to smoke.

He was singing ‘Bye Bye Miss Amercian Pie’

Don Maclean.

Watching Nicole Kidman on TV .

He was good.

Annie, put on a maroon Cotton tanker top with spaghetti strings, a black silk Scholl and a khakhi silk short, her hair was natural black silk, with no streaks, she had on a very light pink contrast lip stick, she looked sleek and child like in her appearance, with a light brown Greek sandal, stringed to her ankle, moderate heel stiletto, She wore her white leather Omega, and had nothing else, She hated to carry the usual feminine carry bags,.

Some Brits would have felt that it was a shocking dress for the show.  

Dan did not even bother doing much, he put on his blue jeans, a V neck sweat shirt and a Anand Jon cotton Jacket.

A Converse brand cotton shoe. And a dark grey cotton scholl picked on the way.

And he was good to go.  

They were pulling off music on each other, singing songs of their favourite.

Life.

Was smiling.

They were waiting for Annie’s friends from Cambridge to join.

They tried some close dance and stuff before the bell rang.

They were friends. It was a cauldron of people, men and women, from Argentina, Mexico, Spain, even Albania.  

All stoned. All drunk. But all dressed in embarrassing student kitsch.

Suddenly someone broke a glass, sounded like it was thrown, deliberately, someone in the crowd was really drunk. There were arguments and some fists thrown too, but they were all , forgotten once the caravan decided to move to the Royal Albert Hall.

There were enough cars, but yet people had to squeeze.

Annie had to sit with her butt exhibiting out of the car window.

But she was yet laughing and singing some Greenday number that someone else had started.

The crowd really did not look like a crowd meant for a literary play. It looked more tuned for a Rolling stone gig at Liverpool.

But the fact that they had a Cambridge pass made things different. Because soon the chorus was singing Milton, if one one group sang The Paradise Lost, another threw back verses from Pradise Regained, for those few who knew the contrast, it was a fascinating give and take.

If The ‘Paradise Lost Group Sang -  

"oF Man's First Disobedience, and the Fruit

Of that Forbidden Tree, whose mortal tast

Brought Death into the World, and all our woe,

With loss of Eden, till one greater Man

Restore us, and regain the blissful Seat,

Sing Heav'nly Muse, that on the secret top

Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire

That Shepherd, who first taught the chosen Seed"

The ‘Paradise regained Group replied -

“Who e're while the happy Garden sung,

By one mans disobedience lost, now sing

Recover'd Paradise to all mankind,

By one mans firm obedience fully tri'd

Through all temptation, and the Tempter foil'd [ 5 ]

In all his wiles, defeated and repuls't,

And Eden rais'd in the wast Wilderness.”

Youth and youthful arrogance were on display with no real consciousness.

The group was having fun.  

thesocratespot: XXXXV Our Archetypes , we the

thesocratespot: XXXXV Our Archetypes , we the: They were out, Annie and Dan, drunk, partying, Annie was showing Dan her side of London, all intellectual and Philosophical, it was all ...

XXXXV Our Archetypes , we the

They were out, Annie and Dan, drunk, partying, Annie was showing Dan her side of London, all intellectual and Philosophical, it was all driving through Oxford & Cambridge, and the pubs around.

They still had time for the show on Prometheus that Annie had invited Dan for.

Prof. Bernstein had given a Jaguar with a driver, Annie was thinking about the way Dan had walked out of the Heathrow, Bermuda shorts, printed shirt,  straw hat, a Greek leather sandal.  A guitar in hand and searching for chords, for a song she had no idea about. It took a while for Annie to get hold of Dan. To get his attention.

By then Annie already had a few thousand passes on her from the London crowd.

Her sleek frame, her general joie de vivre, her intellect, her very spirit caught people’s attention she was a person that people wanted to touch, dance, talk, rape.

Whatever.

Loose, drunk, floating .

She was.

Her friends spoke Ibsen, like others spoke Queen, they spoke about Kant, Russell, Husserl and Schopenhauer, like others discuss Pink Floyd.   

Dan was a Musician inside. A Nomad, a dilettante, a nowhereman.

In search of a chord.

Who, currently, found meaning in deciphering the life of the utterlessly powerless vis a vis usurped Democracies. Individuals who had more rights. More needs and wants. Politically.

The politics of anthropology.

The racial and the insane.

Still being the most powerful.

The beast.

Within and outside.

Again a primordial type. 

thesocratespot: XXXXIV Vaali. Dan's native poet. RIP

thesocratespot: XXXXIV Vaali. Dan's native poet. RIP: Somehow as soon as Daniel landed in London, it wasn’t Annie who occupied his mind, all he could think of about were about his friends ...

XXXXIV Vaali. Dan's native poet. RIP

Somehow as soon as Daniel landed in London, it wasn’t Annie who occupied his mind, all he could think of about were about his friends and mates from The Loyola College , Chennai - Lucy, Jennifer and Sharon – great people, he even had a face book update from them informing about their retrospective of the Tamil Poet Vaali. Annie was not even in the background.

At least not immediately. As soon as he landed.

Strange is the way that mind works.

Really.

He was waiting for his fragile baggage at the Heathrow. Despite all the care and precaution Lufthansa had broken the view finder glass of his Nikon. And he was not very happy about that.

But his thoughts simultaneously went into thinking about the Sangama Thamizhan poet Vaali. 

Daniel spoke the language, an ancient classical language that pre dated Latin and Greek.

Danny’s mind threw up a quick poem, one of his favourite, from the vast ‘Vaali’ anthology

Thithikkum paal eduthu

Dheyvathodu koluvirindhu

Muthupol vazhvadharka

Maali sudum manavirindhu

Ponnai pol nal irundhu

Annampola nadai nadandhu

Unniathan madiirundhu

Alli vaaypaay then virunthu.

The imagery, the grace, the translation of a mundane action into sublime metaphors, the sheer magnification of a simple emotion was always the hallmark of the poet. He was the poet of the young and the rebellious. Daniel made a mental note that he should try and one song dedicated to Vaali one of these days and upload it onto his blog,

He tried humming an old song written by Vaali. 

Back in India a poet had to adapt to the needs and vagaries of the Film industry in order to survive but that also meant that a poet had to pen words according to the demands of a “situation”  a mere event, under the patronage of the films Music Director, whose vision it was to translate a Film Director’s Visual communication into a musical adverb. Often inn India, the Music Director could make or break a film’s success.   

And a music Director’s fate was in the hands of the Lyricist.

A.K.A the poet.  

“Kannaivittu ponalum

Karuthai Vittu poga villai

Mannai Vittu Ponalum

Unnai Vitu Poga Villai

Inno Oruthi Udal eduthu iruppavalum

Naanallovo?”

The above lines formed a part of film by name Karpagam, an old Black & White film that yet had Daniel’s admiration.  

Vaali was a versatile genius, and a great admirer of Bharatiar. The Prometheus of Tamil literature.   

Daniel’s mind somehow continued to think about Vaali.

He was a romantic , Daniel thought, as his mind analysed some of Vaali’s songs written for a number of Tamil films, he could match a Wordsworth and then have the remorse of Keats, he could then build strands of Satire like Alexander Pope and then elevate things like Shelley, even when one looks at more contemporary poets like Donne , Yeats, Elliot or Hughes or even Octavio Paz- poets like Vaali could pen a Poem , a song, to match a “Situation”.  

Vaali’s stamp of one’s identity in the midst of names like Kannadasan, Karunanidhi, Vairamuthu and Pulamai Pithan ( and yet walk with a stamp of authority ) had a truly Johnsonian proportion to it.   

“ Potri padadi ponney

Thevar kaaladi manney

Thekkudisai aanda

mannar ilamdhan hoi…

…munnorukku munnor ellam

innarunu kandu kola

edu eduthu ezhithi solla

onnu rendu moonu alla”

ding dangu dangu ding dangu hoi.  

Daniel hummed softly as he checked his guitar at the Heathrow.