I'm a teetotaller. But the closest I can come to explaining intoxication is when I listen to music. Urdu has such a beautiful word for it: خمار or खुमार. It is sometimes an intensified feeling of nonchalance. Sometimes, it is a clarion call, bluntly thundering. Other times, a beautiful opiate. Letting me lull myself into denial. Sometimes, it creates just the right atmosphere for thoughts. It chastens and subdues. It dissolves the straight and narrow. It perplexes and untangles. It confirms loneliness and then offers solace and companionship. It is my rampart, and my fort. No matter how out of tune my soul may be, it never jars. Sometimes, it feels sacred, and imparts a dignity and has inspiring aftermaths. Other times, it is secular and then brings in its wake an eartly cheer. But in any case, all good music resembles something! It stirs me by its resemblance to some object or feeling that may have caused it to be born.
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