And I had my own music room to practice my tabla. She was out for our dear friend’s birthday. That gave me a chance to get in touch with my inner self…

In the poet’s words…

“Mere aansuon pe nazar na kar
Mera shikwa sun ke khafa na ho
Use zindagi ka bhi haq nahi
Jisey dard-e-ishq mila na ho”

My rough translation…

“Please do not look at my tears
Please do not get upset with my complaints
You do not even have a right to life
If you have not gone thru the pangs of love”

She is away at a party. Gives me all the time to settle down for some ghazals with a cocktail. (which beats samosa with wine!!)

This evening, we are with Suman Kalyanpur. Another gift from Swami family.

An evening by myself with Habib Wali Mohamed. I expect very few listeners today to recognize him. He had focused most of his time on studying and running his family business. But in between, when he recorded some songs, they were golden. Born in Yangon (Burma), he lived twice in India, twice in Pakistan and twice in the USA (first time he got a MBA from Syracuse and the second time was in his sunset years – he died surrounded by his family in Los Angeles).

This rare LP is one more that I inherited from Deval’s dad.

Thank you Deval, Krupal and Shaku : without your magnanimity, this evening would have not happened for me.

Playing some of dad’s favorite Hemant Kumar numbers on his second death anniversary.

“Poth harabo bolei
Ebar pothe nemechi
Soja pother dhnadhay
Ami onek dhnedhechi
Poth harabo bolei
Ebar pothe nemechi”

Lyrics and tune by Salil Chowdhury

Roughly translated…

“I am stepping back on the road again
This time so that I can get lost on my way

The road, that is straight and narrow
Has disoriented me time and again

This time I am stepping back on the road
Just so that I can get lost on my way”

After my vinyl record collection, now I am into arranging my CDs! Thankfully, I had never discarded my music CDs after streaming and music-in-cloud took over. Brought out the 1200+ CDs I have, selected about 500 of them (mostly 90s and before) to keep for ready access and put them in these neat looking book cases.

Love the CD storage boxes. Took my a month to find something I would like.

Now I am ready for more music with Jay Jay. Who, for some reason, has equated Indian music without Pringles to be a cue for him to go to sleep!

“Do you not have a party to go to?” I asked her innocently.
“Why? Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“No. No. No.”, I lied vociferously.
Like I had any chance of she not seeing thru it.

Truth is that in the small house, I do miss my corner in the evening where I can listen to my own music with Jay Jay with the lights dimmed to my own mood. Not saying she does not adapt to it – she absolutely does. But some things like music is very, very individual.

Right at that moment, she got a call from her friend to see if she was open to go out for a wine.

Boy, was she ever ready for that call!

Indeed, was I ever!!

Thanks to Paromita and Seemita-di, I was able to bring out an old “Bade Ghulam Ali Khan” record (another gift from Deval’s dad’s collection), clean it up and play it for myself.

Nobody has ever done “Yaad Piya Ki Aaye” to my ears like Bade Ghulam Ali Khan has. This evening was no different.

Originally a poet who wrote only in Persian, he was eventually persuaded to write in Urdu.

“Na Hui Gar Mere Marne Se Tasalli Na Sahi,
Imtehaan Aur Bhi Baaqi Ho To Ye Bhi Na Sahi…”

Roughly translated,

“If my death did not convince you (of my love), then so be it
If you want to test me even more after my death, then so be it”