spanish class takes chivo groove - 'She'

She had been learning Spanish for a while now. She loved it because the institute where She studied, used interactive learning techniques – the new age mumbo-jumbo for academics using teasers, games, techniques for prolonging lessons … basically the use of very, very twisted ways of teaching to fool the awry youth of today into wrapping their heads around their lessons well enough. She loved it. Someone as twisted as her, living in the 21st century, whilst She belonged to the 22nd, who couldn’t concentrate on the written word for the life of her … needed something like this. So, She loved it, cherished it, promulgated it and tried to convert the non-believers at the drop of a hat!

She wore the façade of sosciable bohemia when she was in fact the anti-thesis of that exterior. Like her friend Ashish always said “She lives inside her head. Crazy Imagination. Seriously. Insane. But f***** amazing too!”

This façade gave her the superpowers to throw people off track. She walked in the first day and saw her to-be-classmates scan her face and mind for a sense of familiarity, a common thread to help them climb into her heart but they couldn’t find the thread. They looked and looked and looked for almost three months. Then they just let her in ‘just as She was’. They were actually really nice people, She knew that. But She couldn’t let them in as they did her. That wasn’t possible. If She did so, then they would see the console inside her heart. And the console was a very private place. It was a place where Gustavo Santaolalla spun Chivo Groove in a loop, to remind her day in and day out that ‘Amores Perros’!

However, every couple of months as they graduated from one class to the other (Yeah! every couple of months! ;) some new students would join in.

And then the game started again. The new ones introduced themselves and tried to open up their own chapters and lay them out in front of her. She gave their chapters the utmost attention, nodded as if She understood them well, and laughed as though they mattered to her. Had they been wiser, they would have tested her and tried to tally the facts with her after closing the chapters, but they never did. She almost wanted them to but they didn’t. Perhaps they were scared of acknowledging the fact that She wasn’t really listening to them. She was just always, and forever, and ever grooving to Chivo Groove.

One of the twisted exercises that were part of their curriculum were listening to songs with the lyrics right in front of you, only some words were missing from the lyrics sheet that the students had. The students had to listen to the song and ‘adivinar’ these missing words (you guessed that right ;)!

She didn’t care much for this exercise as She did for certain others because they always employed crummy songs about lime and salt and tequila and liberty and boats and oceans and blue eyes. Drug induced buggers sang them listlessly, whispering bitter nothings into the microphone that traversed through time and many, many complicated wires and binary digits and speakers to get to her.

One day however, they finally gave them a nice song for respite. The teacher played ‘La historia de Juan’ on the Spanish Computador about 5 times, and none of them understood a word. It was only when the teacher gave up and explained the meaning of the song to them that She noticed the song for the first time. After that She was hooked.

She downloaded the song as soon as She got home (She doesn’t give a rat’s peachy ass about being a criminal pirate, although she should ;). She listened to it reverently as Gustavo went out for a short break after about 5 years of spinning and spinning and spinning tirelessly.

It was only when She was od’ing on the song the next day, did he come back. He spun the groove again and gave her some CPR. She woke up, coughing.

When She was feeling better he sent her a message saying that from that day on She could only listen to ‘La historia de Juan’ once a day max on medium volume.

To her this rule was like an ecstasy pill. She thrived on it.

When She went for her next class, she was hoping to discover another such sweet ecstasy but when the time came for the song exercise, the teacher proclaimed, ‘no es una cancion triste’. Her classmates relieved themselves with ‘gracias, muchas muchas gracias’ almost in a chorus.

“What?” she whispered to the person next to her.
“She’s saying this time it won’t be a sad song like the last one. Thank god!” he whispered back.

She clicked her heels twice and Gustavo increased the volume to ‘full bloody blast’.

Later on, during the break one of her classmates started talking about the gay liar (;) singer who sang the sickly soppy ‘La historia de Juan’. She interjected and tried to make her classmate see the point. He wasn’t gay, he wasn’t lying, the song wasn’t ‘sickly soppy’. But her classmate didn’t see her point.

She was about to click her heels again when another one of classmates Mrs. Bee asked her, “You actually like the song?”

“The Groove” She asked surprised, almost turning white. How did she know?

“Huh? No. La Historia by Juanes” enunciated Mrs. Bee in her perfect English.

“I do. I love it in fact.” She said. I od’ed on it. :)

“Strange! Its such a sad song. How can you listen to it?” Mrs. Bee

“I love the music” She

“Oh so you don’t listen to the lyrics?” Mrs. Bee

“Of course I do. I love the lyrics too” She

“But … but … Why? How? How can you? Doesn’t it make you sad?” Mrs. Bee

“Yeah I guess it does. But I enjoy the feeling” She

“You couldn’t possibly enjoy being SAD?” Mrs. Bee

“Of course I do. Sadness is as much a part of life as happiness. Plus these emotions are subjective. What is sad for you may not be the same for me. I bask in the glory of a sad song. I thrive in it. I dance the dance of life to it.” She

“Strange” Mrs. Bee

“Well, look at it this way. I give all emotions a fair chance. If I didn’t give sadness a chance I wouldn’t appreciate happiness so much, I wouldn’t know its worth. And because I accept this I am happy in sadness too” said She. This she might understand, it’s the sort of explanation they give in her world perhaps.

“I understand, yet I don’t” resigned Mrs. Bee.

“I can live with that” said She. And finally clicked her heels!

Gustavo ‘full bloody blast’! :)


solitary reaper said...

The 'transformation' is sensed here when the writer opt giving a ‘fair chance’ to sadness. n the explanation given is superb. Truly looking fwd to. 'She’s' of course shaping up well.

sacredeastwind said...

This is fast becoming a fruitful, favorite exercise. I hope I am able to write frequently :)

Anonymous said...

Like it, Shruts. Had me hooked. Distinctive voice definitely! Where are the translated lyrics? D

sacredeastwind said...

Thanks yo! :) Follow me blog eh? I am trying to get followers so I can get the ad feature. And for that me needs to be more popular.

Translated lyrics? Of? 'El historia de Juan'?? En Augusto! Check Augusto!