Tick Tock, Tick Tock

There is no point to music, unless it makes time stop, said Ustadji once.

It's been a week of being up till 2-4 AM each night, listening with disbelief and aching insides to some of the most beautiful, ancient and moving music in the world. I've been arriving at work groggy eyed and racing out the door at 5. Starving, I am starving for more.

I love my job, but I don't want to be here right now. It feels as though my heart is singing. I feel fire in my fingers, as if, if I wanted to, I could play a thousand sargams if I just had my sitar with me. But here I must be, trudging away with exciting marketing campaigns and writing press releases for delightful little children's books. But it isn't enough--it seems so paltry in comparison.

I'm counting down the hours, while I wish with my whole soul to be somewhere else. Anxiously I wait for the clock to strike 4:55 as I rush to catch the train that can't go fast enough to take me back to breathless minutes that linger for hours, and hours that elapse in the blink of an eye.