It’s a sunny day, I’ve been surfing t’net all morning at Sha’s place (free t’internet), and now we’ll go down the road to Fallowfield and find somewhere to lie down in the grass and have a bellyful of the finest of whatever British pub cuisine has to offer.
I’ve been having a listen to some old Hindi songs (circa 1956, when music was real and meaningful, and god did they sing!) and recalled some real happy choons about dying, and death, and misery, and sorrow, and death. Yes, a real swinging mood.
“Mohabbat ki jhooti kahani pe roye
badi chot khayi jawani pe roye”
I cry for the false tale of love
I cry for the great wounds of youth