D-8 Allnutt South.
It was a furnace – the west facing room would receive the
burning afternoon sunlight, the walls would absorb them so perfectly and retain
their imprint till the night, reflecting it on everything and every being inside
the room. Sometimes, the overhead fan seemed like a saviour. Sometimes, it felt
like the villain, spreading the heat in the room more evenly than before. Even
buckets of water sprinkled all over the room would make no difference.
I would try my best to keep my calm. But the heat would
become one of the rarest of the rare reasons why anger would well inside me.
Especially in the third year, when I would see it as a symbol of injustice. My
preferences had not been respected even though I had deserved to get a room of my choice,
based on my merit in the college residence. But in those days, anarchy ruled, nobody cared and so I was,
stuck.
I would whine and fill pages after pages of my diary
sometimes, only to be reminded by my own self that it was fine. After all, I only
would say in my morning prayer every day ‘Whatever You do, is good for me’ (Jo
Tudh Bhavai Saee Bhaleekar) and then complaining about the state of things later
in the day was like being double-faced.
And so my mind would wander over to tangents, for hours
after hours – afterall what was the good hidden therein, of me being unfairly allotted
the hottest room of the block?
As it was programmed, the good unfolded very soon as my search
for it became more and more intense over days. It unfolded so beautifully, so perfectly.
I had started playing harmonium in second year after a long interregnum
of 6-7 years. The gap perhaps made the activity more enjoyable and meaningful.
I would experiment with different ragas, some of them would just rise from
within, I had left them dormant in my memory for long. From one, another would
emerge, and another and still another and I would be entranced by the
compositions that would come out of my fingers, so effortlessly. I would be
surprised at myself– was it really me playing?
One of these hot, whining afternoons, I remembered a small
note of Malhaar (the raag known for causing rain!) that I had learnt while
young. I started experimenting and recreated the whole sthaai and antra.
Youtube helped and I found an amazing shabad sung by Bhai Nirmal Singh* – It
said:
Baras megh ji, til bilam na laao
(Rain down cloud, do not delay)
Although I used to sing raag malhaar when young, the same
hymns, the same compositions never had the same kind of resonance back then. Now
the raga would emerge out of the depths of the sultry heat, I could feel the
power of every word. As if my entire soul would cry for rain, for an escape
from the furnace. It was pure joy!
Sometimes I would sing for hours altogether and then look
back after a while and an eager neighbour would be sitting on the other end of
my bed enjoying the music and pressing for ‘one
more’. Once, out of sheer coincidence (was it?), it started raining. I was too elated...
My harmonium had become like an air conditioner.
It cooled
my soul, my thoughts, my perspective on everything. I can never forget the
peace I felt in those heated afternoons, they were the coolest ever!
Thanks to the heat, I understood real meaning of raag malhaar
and the compositions in my scripture. Thanks to the heat, I found a terrific
way of dealing with my anger and complaints.
Today, a friend shared this ‘miyan ki malaar’ youtube link
on facebook (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u7R4kdCi1zY)–
and it brought back a whirlwind of old memories and triggered this post while the lovely malhaar is still playing in the background.
They continue to elate me. All smiles.
They continue to elate me. All smiles.
*Bhai Nirmal Singh's Baras Megh Ji link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z7BVWrrEOFo
