OF MUSIC – Once Upon a Time……

This is one of my older creations, which fortunately or unfortunately couldn't be posted on my blog for so many days.


In the days of yore, in a village yonder

A boy lived, who thought “Music – a wonder!”

It was his deepest passion that to learn music.

Music was his love; and he – lovesick.

His search went on and on

He could not find a Master.

But one day, he heard a divine raga

His heart began beating faster.

There stood a hill; on top of it – a cave.

To a mystic magician of music, shelter it gave.

Sat crosslegged, singing, with eyes closed did he

Emanating from his throat,

The raga was as enchanting as it could be.

The boy came to the cave,

Running up the hill.

Listening to this maestro’s music –

It gave him such a thrill!

Falling to your feet, I beg you oh Master!

From you, I want to learn to sing.

I do not come here alone, Master.

With me, immense passion I bring!

Impressed with the boy’s devotion,

The Master took the boy to train.

In his eyes, the Master saw passion,

An ocean of knowledge did the boy gain.

Years passed; The boy learnt to sing.

Under the Master, his imagination grew wing.

In the light of the Master, the boy’s future shone bright.

But fate took an evil turn – as evil as it might!

“My child, I will teach you a raga –

Oh! ‘Tis the favourite of mine.

Sung with passion, as in you,

Oh! It will be divine!

I shall teach you Amrutavarshini –

The raga that will bring rain.

When sung from the heart, as you sing,

It will vanquish all your pain.”

Unfortunately, the Boy who sang ragas from his heart,

Could not render Varshini.

Banished was he from the Master’s sight.

Fate had played it’s part.

By then, both the Master and the disciple had become famous in the villages around. The news of the disciple’s banishing spread like wildfire. They came to the cave to ask the Master to take back his words and said that they would search for him. But the Master remained unmoved.

Years passed; The disciple practiced.

He made Varshini his forte.

A month later, the Master died.

The village was struck with drought.

The people searched for the disciple.

But he was nowhere to be seen.

On one fateful night, he came to the cave –

The cave where his Master had been.

Having known of his Master’s death,

The disciple was overcome with grief.

He mourned for a while, he cried

And then, he began to sing.

People rushed on hearing his voice

Amruthavarshini he rendered.

Long before he completed the aalaap,

The rain-god had thundered!!!!!

With his beautiful singing, the disciple brought rain to the drought-struck village. Unfortunately, his Master, whose favorite was Amruthavarshini, remained only in the heart of his disciple, not in the physical world.