S&G and Me!

"I am just a poor boy and my storys seldom told
Ive squandered my resistance for a pocketful of mumbles, such are promises
All lies and jest, still the man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest, hmmmm..."

-----Simon Garfunkel (Boxer)

I first listened to S&G back in 2001 during my stay in BARC training school,Mumbai. Thanks to Partho, who passively introduced me to S&G. I got acquainted with one of the maestros of 60's revolutionary period...tasted them..they were just awesome! They spoke right from bottom of their heart and it touched people across the globe.

"When I left my home and my family, I was no more than a boy
In the company of strangers
In the quiet of the railway station, runnin scared
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters, where the ragged people go
Looking for the places only they would know...."



They told a story...a story that more or less match with those who form the crowd....something that exists without a face.

"Asking only workmans wages, I come lookin for a job, but I get no offers
Just a comeon from the whores on 7th avenue
I do declare, there were times when I was so lonesome
I took some comfort there..."

We've come to the world in mortal form...we're no god...virtue & vice goes hand in hand....b'coz if "head" is life then "tail" is too..!!

"Now the years are rolling by me, they are rockin even me
I am older than I once was, and younger than Ill be, thats not unusual
No it isnt strange, after changes upon changes, we are more or less the same
After changes we are more or less the same..."


Change is the order of life and to comply with is called wisdom.

"And Im laying out my winter clothes, wishing I was gone, goin home
Where the new york city winters aren't bleeding me, leading me to go home

In the clearing stands a boxer, and a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders of every glove that laid him down or cut him
til he cried out in his anger and his shame
I am leaving, I am leaving, but the fighter still remains
Yes he still remains"


There's life all that praised to be beautiful in the pen of poet...there's odd suffering too..but suffering with head held high is boxer's spirit. There's a little piece of boxer perhaps in all of us. Isn't it!