AND YET THE NIGHTINGALE SINGS

AND YET THE NIGHTINGALE SINGS

The nightingale sings no more. Yet in the trees of efflorescent spring the cuckoo coos, the nightingale sings. The notes ring in the bushes and the notes ring in our hearts. An era has ended. Whence comes another? We were lucky to have listened to her. Posterity will deem us privileged to have been privy to her soulful renditions. The voice has been stilled but the humming bee hums in our hearts. Lata Mangeshkar is born once in a millenium perhaps to bring tidings of a higher order of harmony, 'the music of the spheres' as Johannes Kepler called it.

Written by Sugata Bose 

Photo : courtesy, Indian Express Archive