Memories Of Another Day

Delhi, 1996.

It was the kind of day you usually find described in the opening chapter of a novel: a pleasant spring morning when there was a mild chill in the air even though the sun shone brightly. The birds sang outside and inside, on the radio, on 102.6 FM, Leo Sayer was singing Love you more than I can say. The time was 9.55. Or maybe 9.56. I left the bed and walked into the bathroom and began lathering my chin. I had a date.

As I prepared to shave I could hear the RJ for the English programme signing off. Then a couple of commercials. I was waiting for the Hindi RJ to take over. I was wondering what he had to say, for it was Valentine's Day. I was also wondering if the first song would be Kishore Kumar or RD or both (the RJs, like me, are usually partial to them). But the jockey did not speak. What I heard was strains of piano. And then the silky voice of Bhupinder wafted out of the two-in-one gifted to me by my parents. Asha Bhosle joined soon after. I stopped shaving and listened.

Bhupinder: Aawaaz di aaj ik nazar ne, ya hai ye dil ko ghuman

dohraa rahi hai jaise fazaayen, bhooli hui daastan

Asha: Laut aayi hai phir roothi baharen, kitna haseen hai samaa

duniya se kehdo na humko pukaare, hum kho gaye hain yahaan

Loosely translated, it means (please correct me if I am wrong):

Bhupinder: Is her gaze seeking out my attention, or am I just imagining?

But the ambience today seems to be retelling an old story...

Asha: The spring that was sulking has returned, and how beautiful is the weather

Tell the world not to disturb us, because we are lost here...

I was transfixed. I put the razor down and came close to the radio. A die-hard fan of Kishore Kumar by now had added the image of Bhupinder to his altar. And the song was not composed by RD, as I discovered later. It was composed by the much-maligned Bappi Lahiri -- India's 'Disco King' who thrived in the early 1980's by stealing tunes from the West. But even detractors of Bappi Lahiri should acknowledge that he gave really good music before and after the Disco boom. Before the boom, you had gems like Chalte Chalte; and after, you had a sparkling piece of diamond like Aawaaz di hai.

I wished I could gift this piece of diamond to my girlfriend. But there was no time to hunt for a cassette (those days CDs were rare and prohibitively expensive) that might have had that song. Moreover, she was heavily into the Power of Love kind of music -- the compilation of mushy songs of that era. (In hindsight, that was the era which made 'love music' cliched. Rewind a little backward and you have lovely songs like George Baker's Love me like I love you and I love you even more.) In any case, she did not want songs. She had told me weeks before: "You know, on Valentine's Day, a guy is supossed to give his girlfriend a bouquet, some chocolates and a card." (Mind you, those where the days when Valentine's Day was just another day for the masses. It was only after Hrithik Roshan's Kaho Na Pyaar Hai that February 14 became a national festival).

So I asked my local florist to rustle up a bouqeut, and while he was at it, I ran to a nearby shop and bought an Amul chocolate (you no longer find them, but at one time, they were supposed to be the utlimate gift for "someone you love") and a greeting card. Armed with the three things, I reached the bus-stop where I was supposed to meet her. The bus-stop was next to her place. I sat there for almost an hour -- the huge plastic-covered bouquet inviting giggles from girls waiting for their buses.

And then my girlfriend showed up (there were no mobile phones then to confirm if one would show up: one just banked on faith). She was bleary-eyed: we had fought the previous night. She came and took the bouquet and stuff and left. I hopped into the next bus that came by.

That was ten years ago.

The girlfriend is long gone and the memories of that bright morning are slowly fading. But Aawaz di hai remains embedded in my heart. The song is getting fresher every passing year.

Enjoy: