Pink Moon Walked Up To Me

Summers don’t seem to bother when you are young. In scorching heat, you walk barefoot to see your lover. The rebel in you is awake. On a similar day, an eternity from today, in torn-out Converse, dirty blue jeans, and a worn-out Pink Floyd tee, I walk under the shades of the neatly planted Eucalyptus through the chaos of the unkempt jungle.

The earphones tied in as tightly as the summer stench, this must be my millionth revision of Pink Moon by Nick Drake. An album that walked up to me.

My early twenties were atrocious. Eddie Vedder, Kurt Cobain, Led Zeppelin, and the lot kept me company. With my peers, I feel no sense of belonging. Everyone is concerned about a job – a conventional pattern and is waiting patiently for their moment to finally give up and surrender. Perhaps they gave up a long time ago. No one wants to think. Their adherence to notions and the stupid sacrificial cultures of this era is scathing to me.

Confused and battered in identity, I can no longer think about sitting in the same room as them. It could prove fatal one day, but somehow I know I will be okay. Even if I don’t follow or confirm, the universe shall take care of me. I just know it somehow.

Pink Moon is breaking my notions and concepts about a record. It feels like a new awakening. My definitions of a song, and how it should exist are being challenged and redefined. I am usually a stone head but this time it is automatic.

The summer heat is no longer a bother, it never was. I am just happy to be free, to be out of my room and into the wild. The buildings, roads, cars, and streets are no different from the jungle and uncanny bushes. It is not about my location but about the rain, about the pack of deer I stumbled upon the other day while roaming looking for wild hare. Pink Moon has kept me company.

When I go home, I shall spend the nights recording and experimenting with the new audio interface I bought from stolen college fees. I have ideas but more than that I am unaware of what to do. I think I need drums, bass guitar, a multi-channel recording interface, a studio, a band and so much more! But Pink Moon is breaking my conventions.

My new best friend Drake is redefining how to write and record a song. It is not about the quality and standards of industries, it is more about a feel, about something that I am not yet sure of. Maybe that is magic, and magic is too far. Perhaps it is about humanity; about getting in touch with the real me – a subjective solitude.

How is it possible that just a voice and a guitar, recorded in the 70s has almost halted me? How is this simple, frugal attempt so moving, so passionate that I can see myself changing? I can no longer sense belonging in torn Converse shoes, and ramshackle band tees. Of course, I love it. I love who I am. Cool or uncool, I don’t care. The freedom is just too exotic. But Nick Drake is attempting to deepen this identity and make me more whole.

Perhaps my debut record, Yahaan, was a meager attempt to recreate the magic Nick Drake had for me. Maybe I felt like an extension. Time has passed since. I am listening to Horn – the instrumental from the album, and somehow this feels more of a song than any other song. Small, insignificant, simple, and easy, I can find a belonging. I don’t need fancy shoes, or cars, or a hefty bank balance, or a socially acceptable reputation, or a hairstyle, or a look, or a voice, all I need is to just accept, let it go, and just be. It is easy to say, but lord knows I have taken my time.

Nick Drake’s Pink Moon is an affirmation. I am alright, and this moment is enough.


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