AN EVOCATIVE NOTE

I wrote about the Baker junction, the bottle neck of Kottayam town, in a previous post. The din and bustle, chaos and commotion produced collectively by the vehicles, all at this small junction, is to be seen to be believed.  Added to this is the quite frequent shrill bang of the (prohibited) air horns that pierces one’s ears.  I don’t remain there for more than ten minutes lest I should faint.

Recently while I was standing at the junction, from this sea of maddening noises I could differentiate out a musical note. That was not any serious music being played anywhere. But I heard almost the same note repeated after irregular intervals. As if someone was tuning a violin. With great difficulty I could get the direction from which it emanated. Though a violin note cannot be expected to condescend on this junction I walked towards the source of the note. There was a pleasant  surprise awaiting me. I could spot a frail old man with a typical Rajasthani turban with all the looks of a nomad  playing a toy violin (Chiratta violin) with just two strings and a small bow. On a long staff resting on his shoulders hung at least a hundred  chiratta violins. By this time he had started playing some old Hindi film songs with amazing purity of notes. I was slowly getting absorbed into the music and lose my sense of existence as I am wonted to every time a note touches my heart.  But this time I lost my concentration and my mind and thoughts slipped into some distant past, 1986 to be precise.  I have heard the same man playing the same old Hindi film songs with the same ease and grace, Oh God “age has not withered the beauty” of his music. I was completely lost in time and space. I felt like standing in front of the “Hava Mehal” in Jaipur listening to this man’s music. Occasionally when reality and wisdom prevailed upon me I told myself, “How come”? Thirty years ago this man was as old as he is now?? Impossible. This man might be some descendant of the man I heard in front of the Hava Mehal. The gene might have been transmitted to a son or a nephew. Or this man might be a much younger brother. I decided to ask the man his name and inquire about  any relation with the man I heard in 1986. But alas, the man was nowhere in sight as I switched back to reality. And the music was not heard, not even any trace of that from anywhere. I did not hear him stopping the music. Nor did I hear the waning music as he walked away still playing tunes. I felt very sad. The reason, I feel incapacitated to explain. This loss of sense of space and time often happens with me when I have an evocative sight, sound or even a smell.