One of the two images of my parents wedding ceremony in July 1982. JAIMAL I met J uncle in the morning after it had rained all night on a freezing january day in 2015. We met in front of an empty swimming pool. His room - 705, is just beneath my room - 805, where i am writing this.
J uncle felt lonely till he met my sister. My sister is a kathak dancer. J uncle would not know about it till one day they meet in the elevator, she moved to make way for another human and her ghungroo rolled in her bag.
J uncle and his balletic wife sold their ancient house, where they sang every morning looking at the emerging orange sun over the Ganges in Varanasi. Their son lived in Delhi. They moved in with him.
His eighty year old body is visibly sad. J uncle grew fond of my sister and attended one of her performances in Delhi. That day I imagine he was the most happiest person present in the auditorium.
In many evenings that i spent in Delhi, we met, went on walks together, always in a circle crossing the empty swimming pool. We somehow never spoke when we crossed that swimming pool. All of a sudden like months and years go suddenly, Rati, my sister was getting married in a month.
One morning J uncle called me downstairs. He sat amongst 100s of old cassettes laid out on his bed. Looking at me, he said. 34 years ago i composed a song for one of my disciple’s wedding. Would you please play it for Rati when Jaimal happens !