All The Birds, Singing

Our Satyam Days, part XII

Meanwhile, I noticed Mandeep pull a steel pin out from his Van Heusen shirt pocket, which he usually carried, and start skewering around his well-knit, tightly packed pugree to keep the folds in place. I had frequently observed him performing this habit out of necessity, and he had a practiced air tending to that need.

After concluding our day's meetings, conferences, and a delightful luncheon at Satyam Technology Center (STC), we returned to our dorm rooms in the evening, thinking how good everything went. Mandeep, Suresh, and I decided on an invigorating cycle ride (letting our neckties swing freely with some flair and rebellion) through the picturesque, leafy campus while enjoying the lush surroundings (giving ourselves 'nature therapy' on the go) to the open-air cafeteria lawns neighbouring our dorms. Balaji, like GG, would head back home and come again the next day.

With the seminar over, GG was on a Doomsday Temple run, a last-ditch effort to get home before nightfall, to hit his half-empty Chivas Regal or some such portable free-flowing grog in the cold company of killing seclusion and stark friendlessness at his horror house of bottomless drinks! Devi, Renju, and Gnana preferred a leisurely walk along the beautiful pathway just beyond the tree-lined promenade showcasing shining bright green, violet, blue, red, and pink flowers and lush, fragrant foliage from the surrounding woodland. As evening twilight fell, squirrels darted from one tree to another, soaking in the serene ambiance of the STC campus.

When everyone reached the dorms, we lounged on the springy, neatly trimmed lawn next to the dorm cafeteria for some time. Then, as if on cue, Renju slipped into her private world of crooning and humming songs known to her while Gnana and Elizabeth looked at her as if pondering the future of singing or what this sudden burst of spontaneous crooning might mean, "Wow, she can also sing. Now that's a first!" I heard everyone groan teasingly. Renju played along. She started chiming in a song from the newest Hindi film released in town, Taal — Dil Ye Bechain Ve, Raste Pe Nain Ve. She continued to hum the tune, which we thought she came to cherish deeply, in good measure, before it was nine o'clock when it was time for supper at the dormitory cafeteria. At about 8 pm, we played Antakshari, a spoken parlour game where each player begins with the last word of the previous song. Singing was restricted to Hindi songs only. English songs, including the eternally beautiful "Every Night in My Dreams" and "Last Christmas I Gave You My Heart," were also thrown into the cheerful bonhomie of friends making everlasting memories.

I did not particularly dislike the songs of the movie Taal. Elzy, Renju, and Mandeep have all said how much they enjoy it. Their assessment of the songs, only in this case, was at variance with mine. Though I liked "Nahin Saamne Tu" and "Ishq Bina," I felt the music and the operatic falsettos in other good-but-not-great songs of the album, such as "Ramta Jogi," "Taal Se Taal," etc., to be overly high-pitched. While these tracks did not perhaps lack the high technical finesse that the music composer AR Rahman is known for, they don't resonate with my taste. His music in the movie Roja, in particular, was out-of-this-world amazing; it still gives me goosebumps whenever I listen to the songs from that unforgettable movie, which I went to see with my childhood friend Satish at a cinema called Devi 70MM way back in 1992. The tracks from the film Roja are truly soul-stirring. Similarly, the fantastic original score (including soundtrack) from Rangeela, Bombay, Saathiya, and recently, Rang De Basanti all possess extraordinary Rahman magic.

(I knew of Mandeep's almost passionate interest in 1980s and 1990s Hindi movies — 1980s' Ghulami, Naseeb, Saagar, Tezaab, Ram Lakhan, Hero, Dostana, Yaarana, Shaan, Disco Dancer, Satte pe Satta, Maine Pyar Kiya, etc., and 1990s' Aashiqui, Baazigar, Dil, Jungle Love, Jeena Teri Gali Main, Yaadon Ka Mausam, Doodh Ka Karz, Dil Hai Ke Manta Nahin, Jab Pyaar Kisise Hota Hai, Vishwatma, Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge, Dil Se, Taal, Mann, Sirf Tum, Meera Ka Mohan, Jaanam, Radha Ka Sangam, Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, Saajan, and many others — which was something I also shared a deep interest in, so it was easy to win the game as I, too, knew extensively about Hindi film songs and films that were a hit and those that flopped.

Mandeep thought, rightly, no one would know of a flop Hindi flick that came and went, but I pulled a fast one when he came up with that film title, as I answered it correctly. Qaid Mein Hai Bulbul was one such film that tanked at the box office.)

Playing Antakshari

Renju would bring her flatmate Elzy (short for Elizabeth) along to stay with her in one of the dorms through the entire programme. Cafeterias (and gyms) were nearby, serving up amazing cuisines. We avoided the gyms.

In the evenings, when the conferences and client sessions were through for the day, we would gather on the manicured lawn of the food court facing our dorms and play a delightful game of Antakshari and Dumb Charade. With “ta se,” I remembered, comes a great song, “Tum Ko Dekha Toh Yeh Khayal Aaya,” and Elzy would take on humming the first two lines of “Dheere Dheere Se Meri Zindagi Mein Aana” song when she got the cue “da se."

One of us suddenly burst out loud, singing “Dhak Dhak Karne Lagaa...,” that old Madhuri Dixit-Anil Kapoor number, although not melodiously. But the spirit of piping the number amidst the company of colleagues enjoying the evening playing Antakshari was an amusing sight. I can’t quite remember who belted out the two lines of that raunchy chart-topping number! Mandeep! It must have been him, considering Madhuri Dixit was his all-time favourite actress ever to grace the big screen; yes, no one else but him. Looking at him, Elizabeth laughed out loud while Renju giggled unstoppably at the sight of Mandeep booming in his husky-gravelly quavering voice.

Mandeep's favourite actress has always been Madhuri Dixit. I remember, back in 1998, he had a row with me once when Revathy made the ‘silly mistake’ of asking us who our favorite actresses were, leading to a passionate exchange of opinions. I instantly pronounced Juhi Chawla while Mandeep categorically declared Madhuri Dixit and no one else! My choices at that time included Juhi Chawla, Rani Mukherjee, Karisma Kapoor, Kajol, and Sridevi — all of whom were strong contenders for Madhuri's throne. In the 1990s, Mandeep's favourite actress was undeniably at the top of her league.

Mandeep and I took turns singing songs from early 1990s Hindi movies that only we were aware of, songs like “Kya Karte The Sajna” and “Chand Banke Tum Gagan Se,” among others (that are sadly now lost, forgotten). I even sang the first two lines of one of my favourite songs, "Aisa Sama Na Hota." Renju sang a few from Hindi non-film pop albums, such as "Jaadoo Hai Yeh Naya Naya” and “Aap Se Pyar Hai” from the same album, and also "Mera Dil Bhi Kitna Pagal Hai." Afterwards, I hummed the catchy opening lines of Falguni Pathak pop numbers: "Yaad Piya Ki Aane Lagi" and "Meri Chunar Udd Udd Jaye" when it suddenly seemed to me that Mandeep was privately longing for Shikha, the gorgeous woman he was enamoured of since the first day of our annual meetings at STC. As I sang, I saw Elzy, Suresh, Mandeep (broken from his trance), and Renju grinning and turning up the corners of their mouth at my lullaby-like rendition of the pleasantly tuneful songs. Come on guys, it was the best I could do!

A Quaint Feeling of Love Lost

Unfortunately, there realistically was nothing that Mandeep could have done, for instance, to stop the passage of time, moving rapturously ahead, changing everything in its wake: the historical inevitability of change that continues inexorably and gets on going without ceasing that no one can do anything about. Or except just being present at the moment. Or to lose himself and find himself. Or privately spend time in comparative solitude with lonely thoughts about the gracious one to whom Mandeep had willingly surrendered his gentle heart: Shikha.

It was all he could do; nothing could save his feelings from getting hurt, as the tender ache of first love was lost forever when she left for a distant time and place a thousand miles away in a story of her part of the world, leaving him aching for the comfort of her presence, her conversations, her fragrance, each moment stretching eternally in the solitude of longing evermore and evermore.

Soon after her four-day stay concluded, she would board a flight and fly away, leaving behind not just a place but perhaps a fleeting chance to revisit a moment that could never be recaptured in the following year, to rekindle the love story of two souls entwined in love but who had never truly found each other. The echoes of laughter faded with her departure.

A palpable silence in her gently wakes flooded his joyful heart to the core; the unspoken, unrequited bond that instantly connected began wilting, casting him adrift in a sea of longing for the enchanted moments they had shared during those four memorable days of wonder twenty-five years ago now. In the warm, nostalgic embrace of what once was, Mandeep's love blossoms anew in its true essence, drawing strength from that one love that got away.

(To be continued…)

By Arindam Moulick