I plug in my earphones and play the music on shuffle. Unfortunately, it is, yet again, our favourite track – his and mine. I need a fresh playlist, I make a mental note.
However, I can’t change the song. It was special, once upon a time.
I croon along, “Sleight of hand and twist of fate, on a bed of nails she makes me wait. And I wait, without you.”
After blurting out the initial stanza, the lyrics halt and the hiatus is filled up by the rhythmic beats.
I shut my eyelids, and get transported into the magical trance of U2.
That’s what good music does to us. We can feel our heart break like a jagged shard, and scatter into bits and pieces. Albeit each tiny part struggles to get back to what it used to be – a whole, which nevertheless seems like a far fetched dream.
We don’t just feel the music flowing into our head through the earphones, but also, we feel and moreover, live each and every word being sung.
My eyes are still shut. Meanwhile, I think about the incessant ache cascading inside me.
Somehow, brushing it off, I try not to think about what had caused it in the first place, but fail miserably.
I try focusing on the brighter side – the jovial phase, right before the infuriating one, but it hurts even more. Well, because I realize, there’s no way we can relive those moments, ever again.
Gulping down the lump in my throat, I resolve not to feel the music, it’s just a song after all. However, I keep reminding myself that it shouldn’t make any difference.
Just the next moment, when I emerge out as strong as ever, virtually shedding off all the pessimism, the next line pinches me right inside, “Through the storm, we reach the shore. You gave it all, but I want more. And I’m waiting for you; with or without you.”
It stabs me like a million nails hammering the wall altogether. Despite the cracks and crevices, the wall shows no sign of pain and mercy. I’m the wall, perhaps.
I try escaping the clutches of our song. But I do, only when it ends.
Isn’t it amazingly scary to realize how a mere song has got the power to jolt your whole being for like three minutes?
Well, if that’s not enough to make us hate love, I wonder what is.