Saturday, February 12, 2011


10 years.

It is one of those days when your forays to the Internet brings out a surprise, something you never expected. An, eureka moment. Just like any other Fridays in school, after a game of badminton, I switch myself back into the lazing mode, and found myself finishing up some work left on the computer. That's when Sharmila buzzed.

Our discussions went from recent events, and veered to music, and in a flash, the thought of searching for random bhajans on Youtube became exciting. I searched for one, and it hit just the spot. The next one, was even better. A search for a song I've been looking out for close 10 years.

10 years.

Rewind. Sometimes, the biggest wish we all have are the smallest things to be in those small convenient places for a rewind of sorts. Like the remote control device featured in an Adam Sandler movie sometime back. Or a convenient BACK button like what we have in the browsers for the Internet. A small instance to go backwards, just so that moving forward will not be a difficult thing to do.

This song, was my rewind button of sorts. A classical composition by Bhadrachala Ramadas, which I 
conveniently thought it was Thiagaraja's, the song is simply about bhakti and devotion. These two are superlatives that simply complements the same feeling, which the song oozes in abundance. It may take some expert hands to translate the words though, which is the composer's native Telegu language.

That's about how the technicalities go. But why search this particular song, you may ask. It goes back, and I'm hitting the rewind button now.

The long drive home.

It is often believed that in some point of life, we will have someone to follow us, or rather to become part of the journey, like a co driver. Not in the mould of a side kick, but more of another pair of eyes to see the world like we do. A soulmate. Dad was my first one. 

Last few months of his life was filled with lots of time on the road, literally, when I became his co driver. No full license in hand, we would drive off to town and off towns for many occasions, and our journey would be filled with discussions, music and anecdotes, never it was a bore to be with him. He had a fine taste of music, and his choices would surprise me till this day. One of it, was a collection of classical songs played to violin by   some dudes from India, who are now the well known and almost legendary Ganesh Kumaresh brothers. Back then, i was oblivious to who sings what and when. Which, I still bring till now, at times.

That particular cassette would be accompanying us on our many road trips. Even on the day of his passing.

Driving back home to carry the news, alone, was not going to be easy. Here I am, all trying to be composed, hands on the wheel, lonely road in front of me. The dark skies simply reflected life at that time for me. Confused, dazed, and in a way drunk on the emotions that was buzzing around that time, I was tasked to deliver the news back home, confirming to what had transpired in the hospital, and prepare for his final homecoming. 

The cassette. It was sitting in the car's stereo. And by force of habit, my left hand reached out for it. The song,  it played in the background. 

That's when i stopped. Stopped the car, stopped containing, and i cried my heart's out.

16 days later, i threw the cassette away in disgust. I didn't want anything to disrupt my recovery period. 

It proved to be one of the worst things I've decided to do. And for a good 10 years, I searched for it. 

Not knowing who composed it, which album, etc etc, it was basically trying to search for the letter A in a bag full of tamil letter forms.


I found it last night. Played it on the speakers, and I wept like a child again.

This time, it was not of anger, or disgust, or pain.

It was of acceptance. 

-plain Joe.

The link above lets you to listen to the song. Enjoy.

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