Mai rahe, meenaa rahe, gardish mein paimaanaa rahe
Mere saaqi tuu rahe aabaad maikhana rahe...
I see a small kid, looking through the window. For him,
having a look through window was itself a dream; a window that would allow to
see outside. The window in his room allows to see till the horizon, no one lies
in between except for green grasses, shrubs and birds playing. Holes in the
window seldom make a whirling noise as the riotous but usual wind flows through
them. Having no one to play, and with holidays at school, most of the time of
his days are spent on imagining stories and his wishes getting fulfilled in
them. He was the hero in all of his stories, the one who rules with all his
wishes turning true.
Music plays always, at least always when the electricity is there at his home.
The least understanding of his about the music, and even less about the rarest
ghazals sung by Jagjit Singh, it does not bore him of staying surrounded by
this aliened ambience. Immense meaning in the music never settled down his gut,
but the soft tunes he remembers. He remembers tune in every track, and to some
extent their words too. When no one is around, he mumbles those ghazals with
somewhat original words and a little mixed with his own creations but the tune
stays strictly the same. He has warmth for collecting memories. But what can be
the best place to keep memories other than connecting them with music?
I see the kid has grown up into a man. Sitting by the
balcony of his three storeys house, he is playing those tracks again. He now
understands those words and immense meaning that Jagjit Singh carried in his
ghazals. But he misses his old Tape Recorder, the kind of soft music it played
with infrequent buzz and hitching of tape on head and reels. He still remembers
every tune, and when no one is around he sings in a low voice. I see tears in
those eyes which were once joyous mumbling broken words from the same ghazals.
He rewinds the tape of memories hidden in those ghazals. And everything appears
to be live before him again. As he leans at the railing of balcony, he
reminisce instances of his tinker by the window. The window that allows to see
till the horizon, where no one lies in between except for green grasses, shrubs
and birds playing. Holes in the window seldom make a whirling noise as the
riotous but usual wind flows through them…
Zindagi ka lutf ho udti rahe haradam 'Riaz'
hum hon sheeshe ki pari ho ghar parikhana rahe...
Italicized lines are from the ghazal written by Riaz Khairabadi, and sung by late Shri Jagjit Singh in his album Mirage. You can listen to the track here.
