Gone are the days when nightingale used to perch on the pomegranate branches to lure one and all, now that the crazy nightingale has found a way to stand for a duet. God knows how Nagpur has prepared scripts amidst juicy season of oranges. Dove as usual sings in high pitch while nightingale has softened its freshly found voice, may be to adjust his vocal chords to stand for a duet which anyway has scope for a low quality voice too. A stanza befitting to Dove and the other matches nightingale that has newly put on an attire of Hawk, may be to send a clear signal to the kites hovering around to stay away from the debris and deadly mass scattered all over. Swifts and sparrows are watching with a well marked scowl of mysterious ridicule and wait only to see how this disdain duet shall unfold the folds of carpet being lifted from foreign land to serve the purpose.
Summer is ready yet again to witness a massive blossom of almonds and cherries besides tulips which unfortunately were washed off by untimely snowfall and topple the so called tourist season. Keeping our fingers crossed, one hopes that this song may not tempt new buds to sprout before time and break the dormancy of seedlings to surprise the gardener who by all means never seems happy to see his garden being taken over by untimely beauty. Now that pomegranate trees are spreading their feeble whip like branches to develop future buds, nightingale too is ready to stretch its newly developed wings for a safe flight across the valley, to inspect rest of the sparrows and to drag new swifts out of closed rooms into the open air. It may anyway not seems a grueling task right now but one can definitely stretch his imaginations to the extent to estimate that this mechanic exercise may end up with something worst stored in, at least for the people who observe every movement of the moon behind their silken curtains of private rooms.
The duet has already put so many human skulls beneath the soil and one can estimate how long this duet may go to bruise our youth. Music of this duet hardly fascinate ears, for its beats are harsh with occasional animated shrieks added, God knows for what purpose, but one thing is sure that such musical pieces hardly tempt the youth of this vale which once had its own song of origin and now modified to serve new musicians and song writers to confirm ‘yes manhood’ of producers and financers. Before this duet hits the stands like headlines of dailies, the script as analyzed by old bards sans not only unification of sensibilities but also weariness of the diction has been pinpointed. These old bards have found dichotomy in the script with nightingale sings Indian Classic and the Dove as usual Remix revealing rhetorical rhymes well suited to a song writer who writes not by choice but by chance.
The old musician of the vale has out rightly refused to carry home this newly released video of this duet for his own narration has hardly an impetus to be enjoyed by the audience. His own Solos and duets along with chorus and Kashmiri Chakri has never impressed this forlorn mass, but at times his Solos and monologues have indeed served a section of media that promote his rhetorical ring tunes round the clock to earn abuses and curses. Every time this dove of the vale is out to publish her new poem, the old bard without wasting time is ready to create a sugarcoated ‘Ode to the nightingale’ in response, but now we are well aware of the fact that his ‘Odes’ are spontaneous and with time his own poems seem strange and weird. This old bard and this Dove sing and repeat what Kites and Hawks have already recorded and registered. Nothing is new, these birds and bards only break the traditional structure of the poem and try to misfit an ‘adjective’ in place of ‘adverb’, thus exposing their own negligence and poor judgment of error.
God knows how many times we have to pay attention to the same old song in new voices, with a string added or deleted, with a metaphor added or dropped, with a new verse copied from Persian couples, with a new word copied from Sonnets and a new form copied by amateur artist. One prays and hopes that this Dove and nightingale along with old bard must realize that poems are not crafted but springs from the recesses of pure heart for poetry springs from a stream devoid of muck and mockery. Before releasing a new song, one wishes that pure poetry from expert’s pen must be utilized to compose a new song besides impressive voice recorded in mega studio under the supervision of recording engineer. If Doves and nightingales fail to bring Bards of brilliance onto the stage, no song ever can win the audience which is basically its life line. Do take due care for your admirers before they switch to other channels.
Paint nay this wall with hues of my past
For this blood was nay so much warm
Now that bullets and pellets
Carved in me a fresh wound
Glossy, my blood now
For master stroke
Needs nay hues,