Contrasts...

are abundant in our lives. We grow up on fables telling us about victory of good over evil (though now I sometimes wonder, who and what decides what constitutes evil) - the most cliched contrast... We experience dawn and dusk, we experience the din and bustle of morning traffic and soothing calm of the night when mankind surrenders itself to sleep after day's travails. These contrasts occur to us quite naturally. There are however contrasts, that need to be sought; contrasts that only reveal themselves to an observant eye. Here is one such contrast that I came across during my walk back home - two new shops - sharing a common wall - contrasted by the merchandise they sell - one a flower shop ("Blossoms - the flower shop") the other selling plumbing ware ("Royal Hardware"), a contrast that forced me to smile..

Darkness and Light make for another fascinating contrast, occasionally manifesting as two sides of the same coin... Like the vacuum and darkness of my room and the foreplay of breeze and moonlight right outside...

There are contrasts that we feel (joy and sorrow). Music (among other things), I have always believed, has power to willfully summon emotions - at times two contrasting emotions at the same time. A belief that was asserted beyond doubt when I recently stumbled upon Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 21. I've been an ardent Beethoven fan. There is very little Mozart in my collection. I do have a few CDs, which have an assortment of western classical music, spanning several composers - including Mozart. One of these has Schubert's Unfinished and Beethoven's Fur Elise, and so rest of the tracks are usually skipped to pave way for my favorite pieces. Last night however, I just decided to let the CD play on without interrupting its flow. 10 minutes into the CD, and what I heard jolted me - violins, woodwind and soothing notes of piano, playing in perfect harmony. The composition evoked instant nostalgia, the faint memory of a bygone era, of lands where I've never been. A strange sense of joy, though with measured quantities of sorrow. A strange amalgamation of two contrasting emotions unleashing their sweet torment on my soul - a torment you would intentionally wish for. Music that almost evoked tears, but just when the eyes glistened, a strange inexplicable verve, lightness, elation took over. A quick look on the CD reiterated what my ears told - it was a Mozart piece. One of his last compositions. Piano concerto no. 21 in C Major.

I conclude with a little trivia on this surreal piece of music, part of it gathered from the booklet that accompanied the CD and part of it acquired by toiling on google. Mozart finished his Piano Concerto No. 21 on the 9th of March 1785 and performed it in Vienna the very next day. The slow "andante" movement - which is particularly intoxicating - is known as the "Elvira Madigan". The name comes from a 1967 Swedish movie, a tragic love story, of the same name, which used it copiously (and consummately) as its background score in several places. The fact that a 1785 composition should draw its name from a 1967 movie is sad and amusing at the same time...