scintillating evening!

“I don’t have words to thank you” I said with tears rolling down my eyes. Actually wanted to fall on her feet and kiss her. She resembled a deity who answered my prayer. I could listen to “Yaman Kalyani” within me already, the soul which always realized divine only through the great man’s voice. A week of seven km to and fro travel, eight sessions of lost attendance, bleeding assignments that demanded attention...All these meant so little now, after all I had managed a complimentary ticket for TOI’s Hariharan’s concert. Mythili, the TOI office receptionist was so kind to do all possible back door works to get one such elusive entry for me at the Elliot’s beach.

“Patta Patta Boota Boota...” started the silken voice. I could n’t help myself singing along as it was one of my favorite ghazal. With improvisations that knew no bounds, the ‘Padmashri’ was at his vintage best. “Aawara”, “Kaash” were sung with utmost supremacy, making me wonder if goddess saraswathi had made Hariji to sing on her behalf. A new genre was born on the shores of Bay of Bengal when ‘Urdu Blues’ were rendered to the ‘rasikas’ delight. I never knew Urdu, but as they say music does n’t require any medium, the ‘alien’ phonetics kissed my heart, solely due to his mystic capsulation of ‘Layam’ and ‘Bhavam’.

“Rang de” brought out the colors of Lahore, ironically on Chennai soil. From Bulleh Shah ‘Bhavain too Jaan Na”, Purandardasa’s “Krishna nee” to Bharathiyar’s “Suttum Vizhi” the ‘sultan’s bandwidth was evidently proven yet again, be it the genres, language or culture. I was extremely privileged when Hariji sung to my request, ‘Sharab La Sharab De’, definitely did add on to my already addicted musical ‘Nasha’. There were times when he would ask singers in the crowd to repeat his ‘akaram’ which I did too, trying to repeat as close to the ‘Badshah’ himself

Is there anything that’s bigger than this, I wondered. Money succumbs to theory of diminishing marginal utility, physical pleasure restricted to time value of indulgence, food and alcohol, worldly needs which may keep any mortal going. Apart from my mother’s love, I could hardly sense anything bigger than the Maestro’s voice. By the time Hariji eased into ‘Tukdas’ my octane levels were sky high. And keeping pace with expectations, the songs pace were neatly controlled to keep the audience gripped on their toes

The soul filled journey had to come to an end, though got etched in every organ of mine. May be I don’t have re birth but listening to Hariji was as good as being re born. Well no body knows when they come and depart from earth, but I could sense the former subconsciously having witnessed him singing live, and I wish the latter gets fulfilled with the connoisseur’s voice played loud during my last breath! Long live Hariharan and his legacy!