And as we took our last shots from the Bong, we knew we were high and our minds continued to pound with the mutest vibration of the Led Zeppelin song. The guitar notes were compelling visuals of water descending on from high, stopping midway, rising back and defying gravity. Each note off the guitar fell down destroying an emotion that had came to life only in the earlier second.
Each one of us spoke of a story, a lesson, a wonderment that we have had held close. Bheem would usually succumb to frivolous revelries after he blows in his first shot. He was quite the same that night. His gait had always been one with a fast pace, exuding a carefree persona to which he owned a copyright. To sum up, he was funny but one would better not judge his thoughts by his frolics. He was yet to disburse his self to the ensuing moments. As he sat down with a timid thrust, he summoned Naren and Saket. Said, he wants to tell a secret. “Brothers! Whatever you do, nature is the only judge, time its only witness. Enjoy the ride. Go through the grind.” Herbs inched closer on his mind. Out of a sudden fit he came up close and ogled with his innocent smile that was prying for a wickedness. He spoke, “If you are my brother, please play my song for me.”
I giggled and asked, “You have many songs. Which one are you owning now?” He rose, and saw the youtube search bar on my laptop screen. There was an instant gleam spanning across his face. As if, he got high only to sink into his song. He asked me to type in, “Fly o”, spelling out each alphabet aloud. In a matter of clicks, Coldplay’s creation Fly on was a melody riff in the air. Closing his eyes, he sung along, assimilating every word from the song. And for some reason, I was envious of the poignant trance he suffered. My envy made me yearn for pains which I had shed off in helpless submission. Aren’t pains beautiful when they resonate in a song? Had it not been for my pain, the song would have been so less dear, so less precious.
“Bro! This part this part! I love it so much” he screamed. It was the last refrain of the song. And the voice of Chris singing, “May be one day, I will fly next to you. May be one day, I will fly with you”, lit a treacherous hope on the cigarette of my flickering sorrow.
When the song was done, Bheem retired to his bed. And I couldn’t help a mumble, “May be one day, I will fly next to you.”