Therapy...
The imagery is still very clear -- it was a foggy morning towards the end of March 2000, when we set out on the road trip with colleagues at work. I remember that trip for a couple of reasons -- it was my first road trip in a foreign country and it was the first road trip for which I paid with my money. But little did I know at the time that it would also introduce a complete new genre of music, one that was to become a source of absolute solace hence.
One of my colleagues had just gotten a newly released two cassette set called "A Journey". The singer on the cover looked not-so-familiar. The first few songs that played did not strike either -- it was a new kind of music, soft, mellow, sometimes slow, and I wasn't really paying attention to the lyrical aspect of it. But then, there was this song which evidently was recorded live -- you clearly could hear the audience's involvement, the claps, etc -- but what was also evident was the sheer range and versatility of the singer. The song was "Main Nashe Mein Hoon" and the singer, Jagjit Singh.
By the end of the trip, I was totally hooked to Ghazals, so much so that I was keen on attending the singer's live concert in a city 120 miles away, even if it meant pushing my return home by a couple of days. That was, however, not to be. My I94 was due to expire and I had no choice.
Upon return, the first thing I did was walk into the music store and buy the album. People at home weren't used to Ghazals either, but, invariably, the music grew on them too. From then on, I would keep a lookout for Jagjit's live concerts in Bangalore. And the first one was in July 2003 I think. WOW! What an experience! I remember the concert not just for the music, but also for the antics of my friend Nitin (more about that in some other post maybe). I have since attended a few more live concerts and hope to do so in the future too.
There are two types of people in this world -- those who like Ghazals and those who don't. Some of the latter group may learn to appreciate the genre over time, but I am yet to meet someone who stopped liking them after.
A former Manager (and a very good friend) clearly belongs to the latter group. One afternoon, Nitin and I disappeared from work for a couple of hours. Upon return, the manager walks up to us and the conversation goes:
Manager: Where were you two brats off to?
Us: To Gangarams.
Manager: What books did you buy?
Us: No books.
Manager: So you went off to laze around MG Road during office hours?
Us: No, we went for something more important, something that couldn't wait till evening.
Manager: Eh?
Us [Holding up the concert tickets with glee]:
Manager: Ugh! You paid 1000 bucks each to hear someone sing, "I opened the window, the air came in"? You could've paid me 500 and I'd have done the same!
Jokes apart, Ghazals have been an integral part of all my journeys -- homeward, after a long day at work, road-trips, etc. During our road trips, its kind of an unwritten rule -- I invariably get the steering after a sumptuous lunch, with a long drive pending in the afternoon. That is when the gang sleeps and I can drive any length of time, with Jagjit for company. To them, its lullaby, to me its sheer poetry.
For a Ghazal buff, I am sure there isn't a better way of spending a rainy afternoon: a great book in hand, hot pakodas by the side, and Jagjit playing in the background.
One of my colleagues had just gotten a newly released two cassette set called "A Journey". The singer on the cover looked not-so-familiar. The first few songs that played did not strike either -- it was a new kind of music, soft, mellow, sometimes slow, and I wasn't really paying attention to the lyrical aspect of it. But then, there was this song which evidently was recorded live -- you clearly could hear the audience's involvement, the claps, etc -- but what was also evident was the sheer range and versatility of the singer. The song was "Main Nashe Mein Hoon" and the singer, Jagjit Singh.
By the end of the trip, I was totally hooked to Ghazals, so much so that I was keen on attending the singer's live concert in a city 120 miles away, even if it meant pushing my return home by a couple of days. That was, however, not to be. My I94 was due to expire and I had no choice.
Upon return, the first thing I did was walk into the music store and buy the album. People at home weren't used to Ghazals either, but, invariably, the music grew on them too. From then on, I would keep a lookout for Jagjit's live concerts in Bangalore. And the first one was in July 2003 I think. WOW! What an experience! I remember the concert not just for the music, but also for the antics of my friend Nitin (more about that in some other post maybe). I have since attended a few more live concerts and hope to do so in the future too.
There are two types of people in this world -- those who like Ghazals and those who don't. Some of the latter group may learn to appreciate the genre over time, but I am yet to meet someone who stopped liking them after.
A former Manager (and a very good friend) clearly belongs to the latter group. One afternoon, Nitin and I disappeared from work for a couple of hours. Upon return, the manager walks up to us and the conversation goes:
Manager: Where were you two brats off to?
Us: To Gangarams.
Manager: What books did you buy?
Us: No books.
Manager: So you went off to laze around MG Road during office hours?
Us: No, we went for something more important, something that couldn't wait till evening.
Manager: Eh?
Us [Holding up the concert tickets with glee]:
Manager: Ugh! You paid 1000 bucks each to hear someone sing, "I opened the window, the air came in"? You could've paid me 500 and I'd have done the same!
Jokes apart, Ghazals have been an integral part of all my journeys -- homeward, after a long day at work, road-trips, etc. During our road trips, its kind of an unwritten rule -- I invariably get the steering after a sumptuous lunch, with a long drive pending in the afternoon. That is when the gang sleeps and I can drive any length of time, with Jagjit for company. To them, its lullaby, to me its sheer poetry.
For a Ghazal buff, I am sure there isn't a better way of spending a rainy afternoon: a great book in hand, hot pakodas by the side, and Jagjit playing in the background.
posted by Ananth Narayan at
10:17 PM
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