Thank you for the music

One of my earliest memories is of my father carefully taking out an LP from its cover, gently dislodging the dust by blowing on it, and placing the record on the turntable. There was conscious care in each part of the process—much like his parenting style. The tonearm was lifted and placed on the record. As the needle met the fine concentric circles on the record, a crackling and hissing sound meant that music was to follow. 

They say we never forget the music we hear or the books we read till the age of 5, and then again as rebellious teenagers. In these crucial milestones lie a gamut of sounds, sights, smells, and tastes that can evoke powerful and healing emotions when we revisit them in adult life. 

And so it was with us. As children, we heard Frank Sinatra, Simon and Garfunkel, Nat King Cole, ABBA, and Louis Armstrong before we knew our rhymes. Played on Grundig speakers in our cosy drawing room, the heart literally kept the beat with the song’s percussion as the room and house were filled with music.

For Super Trooper, which was my favourite from the ABBA album, my heart lifted. For Unforgettable or Rambling Rose, Nat King Cole’s baritone evoked calmness and sometimes even sadness. With an instrumental jazz number, there was lightness and playfulness in the air. 

While the music played and the record was therefore safely out of my hands, I was allowed to soak in the art and pictures on the cover. For hours I would stare at it, taking in the colours, fonts, and minute details, unknowingly rewiring the song in my head with these visuals. 

Years later, when as teenagers my brother and I were expanding our music taste, our dad bought us a stereo system. That proved to be a great source for shaping our individuality.

There was not a day when we didn’t play the umpteen cassettes. He also encouraged us to sing and learn an instrument with the idea that we would always have the ability to entertain ourselves without having to depend on others—a principle he lived by till the very end. As a result, I learnt how to read and play music. 

Evening time was always family time. When we were not studying or with friends, we were either playing music or chatting around the dining table. One of the songs my father especially liked me playing was the theme from the movie The Godfather.

At 16, I thought it was a nice tune and easy to play—but nothing more. Three decades later, and maybe because of the memories it now evokes, I think, it is by far one of the most moving and powerful scores ever written. The score mimics life’s bittersweet moments, with its many ups and downs, much like the crescendos and diminuendos in the tune.

In those growing-up years, my father taught us many life lessons, incongruence, and truisms, often in connection to a song or with the background of music. By doing so, he has left us with a storehouse of powerful and warm memories that we can turn to in the songs we listened to together.