MUSICAL MEMORIES OF MY PARENTS

 

MUSICAL MEMORIES OF MY PARENTS

Shrikant G. Talageri 

 

This is a purely personal, sentimental and anecdotal-autobiographical article, obviously about my parents as well as about music, where I intend to note down (mostly in a jumbled order) every memory I can remember about my parents in association with particular songs or with music in general (so those who don’t like that kind of stuff can stop right here. This article is primarily for my own satisfaction and in memory of my parents). I prepared this article over the last two months, to be uploaded today 5 April 2026 today being the day when my father would have completed 100 years of age, (along with the final two versions of my article “Ragawise Hindi and Marathi Songs” – the two versions being one with URLs and one without URLs:

https://talageri.blogspot.com/2026/01/blog-post.html 

https://talageri.blogspot.com/2025/11/raga-wise-songs-in-hindi-and-marathi.html

 

Ours is a particularly music-loving family. Both my parents, my father Gangadhar Sitaram Talageri (5 April 1926 – 10 June 2002) and my mother Shaila Gangadhar Talageri nee Sita Pandurang Taggarse (13 August 1935 – 8 September 2012) were, like myself, passionate lovers of music (or rather, I inherit my passion for music from both of them), and I can think of no more apt way to commemorate their memory than by reminiscing over (and putting on record) all the musical memories of the two most important people in my life. I will not be alive on the day (13 August 2035) when my mother would have completed 100 years of age, so this article is in memory of both of them.

My biggest regrets are that:

(a) My father expired well before the first video got uploaded on youtube (23 April 2005), and he was never able to experience the magic and happiness that this internet channel has brought into the world. As my brother has remarked more than once, my father would have loved not only the world of music on youtube, but also old Hollywood and Bollywood (Hindi, Marathi, English) film and event videos, photos and video clips, and old videos and video clips of sports events that he used to remember (such as old cricket matches, old boxing and wrestling events, old body-builder events, etc.) [This − sports − is a subject in which I must admit to having zero interest, but this was a passion shared in common by my father and brother].

(b) My mother expired after youtube was born, but before it reached full bloom, and so was not able to enjoy it to its full.

 

[While on the subject of youtube, I must also express my humble heartfelt tribute to the person, named Jawed Karim, who apparently started youtube and who uploaded the first video “me at the zoo” on 23 April 2005:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jNQXAC9IVRw

Before youtube started, I only had long lists of “wanted” songs written in old diaries right from my high school days, containing songs of which it was my dream to one day (when I grew up) have a huge collection of gramophone records. The days of gramophone records, then of spool tapes, then of cassettes, and finally of CDs, all passed by with most of those songs lost forever − or so I thought. I still remember that magical day, though I don’t remember the exact day or year but I think some time in 2006-7 or so, when I had gone to visit my aunt in Malad, and my techno-savvy cousin brother Deepak Gulwadi told me that there was now an internet channel (I was still totally ignorant in these matters) on which people could upload video songs. It had then only just started gaining ground, and the collection of videos on youtube was still very small. He asked me to suggest some old song. To my absolute amazement and disbelief, the very second song I suggested, one of the countless songs I thought I would never ever be able to hear (let alone see) again in my lifetime, was actually there in video form: Ja Main Tose Nahin Bolun by Lata Mangeshkar from the film Sautela Bhai. I think a totally new and magical phase of my life started on that day.

I rushed home and started searching for old songs on youtube on my computer. But at that time every song viewed pushed up the telephone bill, and I was aghast when our telephone bill shot up from a few hundred rupees per month to many thousands that month (this was I think in 2006-7 or so). But I realized that the bill increased by the same amount whether I simply saw the video or actually downloaded it on my computer. This started my passion for downloading songs. A year or two later (my cousin had started a youtube channel himself by then and started uploading songs) I requested him to upload another of my favorite songs (Ja Re Badra Bairi Ja by Lata Mangeshkar from Bahana) so that I could download it, which he did (and many more followed). Shortly afterwards I started my own youtube channel. At that time there was a windows app “Windows movie-maker” through which I used to upload audio songs in a standard video format (white screen, blue border) until that app ceased to exist.

So I must express my extremely heartfelt gratitude towards youtube channel and towards this very great man Jawed Karim (born in 1979 and therefore still only 26 years of age when he started youtube!). I have consistently refused (in spite of many earlier invitations from youtube) to “monetize” my channel because I believe youtube deserves every rupee it earns.

Only, unreasonable though I know this to be, I wish he had started youtube ten years earlier (but of course he was only sixteen at the time) so that my father could also have experienced this magic, and would perhaps have become rejuvenated and remained alive for many more years than he did].

 

So my reminiscences, which, except for the first two or three, will not be in any particular order or sense:

 

1. My father may always have been fond of music, but it could not have been very obvious to his family and friends since he was an extremely physical kind of person (sports and games, weight-lifting and body-building, etc.) since childhood. It was therefore a surprise to them when, sometime in the sixties, he bought a record-player (later a radiogram, then a cassette player or “two-in-one”, and very much later also CDs) and started buying (or taping from the radio or TV) and listening regularly to music, including and especially classical music.

My mother on the other hand lived in Mangalore for perhaps the first 19-20 years of her life, and there she was always a passionate singer. There were regular programs in the nearby (to her home in Mangalore) Venkataramana temple, and she (with her sisters) apparently participated in all the bhajans and group singing. Also they learnt all kinds of songs and “kritis” (mainly Purandaradasa and Kanakdasa) in their school, including also Marathi songs and Tamil and Telugu “kritis”: decades later I remember asking her and writing down and learning the words of a Telugu Tyagaraja Kriti “Marivere Dikkevarayya Rama”. After coming to Bombay, she continued her passion for songs and for some years (until my birth in August 1958 put a stop to her radio singing) she was even called to sing songs in radio programs as was the practice on AIR (All India Radio or Akashwani) at the time. Much later, she became a passionate member of our local Saraswat Mahila Samaj Bhajan Mandal group, where she is remembered by everyone for her amazing ability to remember by heart the words of every song she ever learnt, as also her ability to recognize the rāga of any song by ear alone (which would have proved invaluable to me in preparing my present rāgawise lists of songs).

 

2. Although my father himself may not have displayed a special interest in music in his childhood, his father Sitaram Talageri and his eldest brother Pandurang Talageri were Architect-Engineers by profession (my father, like myself later, was a bank employee), and my grandfather had the distinction of being the architect-engineer of the first Cooperative Housing Society in the whole of Asia (in Gamdevi, Bombay, in 1915) and also of being the assistant engineer of the Municipal Corporation of Greater Bombay in 1920 who signed the lease agreement on behalf of the MCGB leasing the Malabar Hills area for the complete reconstruction of the water reservoirs which provide water to the residents of South Bombay, and of the Hanging Gardens at Malabar Hill.

But both of them were passionate aficionados of music and the performing arts (and my second uncle elder to my father, Keshav Talageri was apparently, long before my father, a lover and listener of classical music) and I am told many of the eminent singers and film personalities of the early (pre-Independence and early post-Independence) era were regular visitors to our house in those days.

My uncle, Pandurang Sitaram Talageri in particular was intimately associated with the film industry as a part of the earliest pioneering days of Indian cinema. I give in short below, details of his achievements from three books in Marathi, and from the film archives:  

Nādabrahma - (foreword by NC Phadke) - A.B.Shirgaonkar - Ramkrishna Book Depot, Girgaum, 1969 (the book is in Marathi):

p.81: Talageri from the Municipality initiated the filming of movies in Novelty theater (formerly only plays staged there), and so Talageri, Baburao Pendharkar, Shirgaonkar and Chaphekar, with a few others, jointly took on the running of Novelty.

pp.89-91: 45 years earlier (i.e. in 1924 or so), description of music program attended by Shirgaonkar and his friend Talageri from the Municipality.

Citra āṇi Caritra: Baburao Pendharkar - 3rd edition 2019 - (foreword Kiran Shantaram) - (earlier 1961,1983) - V Shantaram Pratishthan Prakashan, 2019, Parel.

p.77: Pandurangrao Talageri started "Deccan Pictures Corporation" on 9 September 1924. He, Sarpotdar and Baburao Pendharkar produced the film "Prabhavati" which ran very successfully.

Ek Śūnya Mī - P.L.Deshpande, Mauj Prakashan Griha, 3rd edition 2019 (earlier 2001, 2018).

p.178: प्रभातपूर्व काळात दादासाहेब फाळके, दादासाहेब तोरणे, नानासाहेब सरपोतदार, पांडुरंगराव तलगेरी ही काही कमी तोलामोलाची माणसे नव्हती.[“In the pre-Prabhat days, Dadasaheb Phalke, Dadasaheb Torne, Nanasaheb Sarpotdar, Pandurangrao Talageri were no less eminent persons” in the Film Industry: i.e. my uncle is bracketed with Dadasaheb Phalke by no less a person than P.L.Deshpande, the most popular Marathi literateur!].  

 

FILMS DIRECTED-ETC BY PANDURANGRAO TALAGERI:

SILENT FILMS AS CINEMATOGRAPHER (DIRECTOR-OF- PHOTOGRAPHY):

1925:

Chandrarao More

Chhatrapati Sambhaji

Prabhavati

Two Untouchables (Dherni Chokri)

1926:

Dha Cha Maa (Murder of Narayanrao Peshwa)

Tai Teleen

The Pretender (Totayaache Banda)

1927:

A Fair Warrior (Shoor Killedaarin)

Thoratanchi Kamala

1929:

Sati Savitri (Ideal Wife)

His Old Debt (Mard Ki Zabaan)

1930:

All For the Crown

SILENT FILMS AS SOLE DIRECTOR:

1929:

Blood For Blood (Raktacha Sood)

1930:

Birth of Shivaji

Fall of Raigad (Raktacha Rajmukut)

TALKIES AS DIRECTOR:

1938:

Marathyachi Mulgi

1940:

Devayani

In an earlier article on this uncle, I had written:

“Pandurang S. Talageri was an engineer by profession (like his father, i.e. my grandfather), but his real interests lay in the world of creative arts. From the very beginning of the full length feature film era inaugurated by Dadasaheb Phalke with his silent film, Raja Harishchandra, in 1913, he became associated with the Film Industry. In fact, his role as one of the early pioneers of the Silent Film Industry is recorded in many individual books written on the history of Indian Cinema such as Firoze Rangoonwala's books (Seventy-five Years of Indian Cinema and/or Indian Cinema Past and Present): unfortunately I could not locate the reference at the moment. However, his role is referred to by none other than the most celebrated star of Marathi literature, who was also a star of the Marathi Film Industry, P.L. Deshpande (popularly known as PuLa). In his book "Ek Śūnya Mī" (Mauj Prakashan, 2001), Deshpande refers on page 178 to the earliest pioneers of the silent film industry and names four of the earliest pioneers together (p.178): Dadasaheb Phalke, Dadasaheb Torane, Nanasaheb Sarpotdar and Pandurangrao Talageri.

While he worked with the other pioneers in the earlier days, his first full length silent feature film with himself as the sole director was Raktāçā Sūḍ in 1929, followed by Raktāçā Rājmukuṭ and Birth of Shivaji (both in 1930). After the era of talkies commenced in 1932, the first talkie solely directed by him was Marāṭhyācī Mulgī (1938) followed by Devayānī  (1940), both in Marathi.

Although he directed only three silent films and two Marathi talkies as the sole director (he was also associated with Hindi films, though I have not found the actual details of this work in Hindi: I am indebted for the above information on the Marathi films to the Compendium Volume Citrasampadā  published by the Government of Maharashtra and the Jāgatik Marāṭhī Pariṣad at the Nehru Center, Worli Mumbai, 14-20 August 1989, to celebrate 75 years of the Indian Film Industry), his close association with the Film Industry continued till his last days (1956, two years before I was born).

While his early pioneering contribution to (or at least role in) the Indian Film Industry is known to few, his reputation within our small community is established by the Konkani drama Citrāpur Vaibhav based on the dramatization of the narration of the establishment of the Chitrapur Math at Shirali (on the coast of Karnataka) in 1708 AD. This drama was written in 1949, and is still staged in our community on special occasions to this day. His other Konkani dramas which became very popular at the time (though they are not extant today) were Vachanmukta, Sa Varsaa Nantara, Pavitra Paapa, Pravaasaa Akheru,  (and a Marathi drama Naṭīçā Nakhrā).

His active association with films continued till the late forties at least. At the time, before Partition, Lahore was an important center of the Indian Film Industry, and, at the time the Partition of the country was announced, he was in Lahore in connection with some film activity. It was not certain till the last minute whether Lahore would be given to Pakistan, but when the possibility became almost a certainty, my father, Gangadhar S. Talageri, the Strong Man (body builder and sportsman) of the family, then only 21 years old, was immediately dispatched to Lahore to get his eldest brother back safely. As my father landed in chaos-struck Lahore and was on his way to the usual location of his brother in the city, he actually came across his brother on the way racing to the railway station along with a few other Hindu colleagues to escape the massacres which were already commencing in Lahore, and he received a sound firing from his elder brother for being so rash as to enter Lahore at a time when everyone was fleeing it. Fortunately, although they apparently witnessed many chilling sights and had a narrow escape or two, they managed to somehow reach back to Bombay in safety.

Unfortunately my uncle, P.S. Talageri, did not live long after this Great Escape. He contracted cancer a year or two later, and died in 1956 after many years of pain and suffering. Only Citrāpur Vaibhav remains as testimony to his memory as a great pioneering writer and film director.”

My father was always very proud of his brother’s work and regarded my own Konkani research and writing and literary activities as a legacy inherited from my late uncle his eldest brother, and even went so far as to feel that he must have been reborn in me!

 

3. While I have heard my mother singing songs from my earliest memories, my father was not in the habit of actually singing songs, though he often hummed songs to himself. However, sometimes, in a spurt of light enthusiasm he used to chant a line or two of some old songs in a joking manner as he moved around the house. They were all (except for the first one below) totally unheard by me on the radio (passionate listener to radio-programs though I was from my earliest days), and were not necessarily a particular kind of song and may not have been necessarily his favorites, they may just have slipped out of him for no particular reason except the whim of the moment and sudden nostalgic memory. However, while I myself searched out and uploaded the first one (below) on youtube, the others became known to me only from youtube when I came across them for the first time and remembered my father chanting the first line of the songs. The following are those I remember:

Teriya Teriya

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rq9olUuwQ-4

Ham To Tere Dil Ke Bangle Mein Aana Mangta   

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aKLuqPHENqk

Tum Bina Kal Na Aave Mohe

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r52Im9jUeQg

Tan Man Pe Manhar Ne Rang Diyo Daar

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AniWLkLeNI0

About the last of the above songs, I do remember him mentioning that in his childhood Juthika Roy’s songs were a great favorite in his circle. And admittedly this particular song is really great.

 

4. My mother, on the other hand, loved to sing more than anything else. It is my bitter regret that I myself, thoughtlessly involved in my own activities, rarely ever specifically asked her to sing anything (except when I wanted to know the exact tune of any song) or demonstrably showed my appreciation for her singing in ways that I realize now would have mattered to her. In the event, in retrospective, I feel warm gratitude towards those of our family friends and relatives who did ask her to sing some song whenever they visited us (or we visited them): I particularly remember a Kannada family friend Suprabha Rao who always used to urge her to sing and listened raptly and admiringly to her singing, something that I should have done more often. In fact (I thought of this too late to do anything about it, after she had gone) I wish we had started a daily family musical practice, in her last years, of group singing of our Chitrapur Saraswat “nityapath” songs (Mangal Shubhakar Shankarage, Mangalam Shri Mahadevam, Shankara Narayana, etc.). I realize now that such or similar daily musical activity would certainly have contributed greatly to her health, pleasure and happiness, reminding her perhaps of her childhood and youth days in Mangalore.     

She was also strongly appreciative of anyone else who sang, and it was her strong desire, often expressed, to get a daughter-in-law who was a great singer. As I chose to remain single, I failed here also to fulfill this desire.

In her last few years (2007 or so, to 2012), after her knee operation, she practically had to stop going out (for her bhajan-group activities). In those times, I often (but perhaps in retrospect not as often as I should have) used to ask her if she wanted to hear some songs from my computer collection. One song I remember her suddenly asking me (and at the time I did not already have it in my collection, but I immediately searched it out on youtube) was the Marathi song by Asha Bhosle “Kuni bai gunagunale”.

She used to hum or sing along with the songs, but when, just a month or two before her departure, she found herself vocally/physically unable to do so, she told me to close the song because she could not sing along with it. From that tragic moment she seemed to lose interest altogether. 

My biggest regret in the case of my mother’s singing is that I was not able to upload two Kannada songs that she had sung long ago (in the 1990s) in a cassette (recorded in my uncle’s house) until after she was no more. I very badly wanted her to hear her own songs on youtube. Unfortunately the only shop I could locate which could convert cassettes into MP3 repeatedly told me (this was in 2011 or early 2012) that the songs on the audio cassette were not audible. It was only after she passed away that I located another shop somewhere else and managed to upload the songs, too late for her to hear them:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=06sIl7AcrHI&list=RD06sIl7AcrHI&start_radio=1

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YUqEsKgWFU4&list=RDYUqEsKgWFU4&start_radio=1

One happier minor incident I particularly remember about her singing was sometime in 2005 or so: I was in the attic listening to (or watching) old songs on my computer, which at that time was still kept in the attic in our hall, with a friend. I had just put the Asha-Rafi song “Aap Yunhi Agar Hamse Milte Rahe” from “Ek Musafir Ek Hasina”. As soon as the song ended, we suddenly heard a female voice singing a verse from the song, “Peechhe Peechhe Mere Aap Ati Hai Kyon”, and both of us (thinking my sister must have come) quickly looked down and (to our delight) saw my mother passing through the hall, going from the outer room to the kitchen, unconsciously singing the catchy verse from the song she had just heard. Since then this song has a special place for me.

 

5. Right from my childhood days, (before Doordarshan) the radio was a prominent feature in our house. The main radio stations we listened to were “Bombay B” (for Marathi) and “Vividh Bharati” (for Hindi, as also for programs on folk music, vadyavrind and the more musical type of vrindagaan – there is also a westernized variety that I don’t like. I especially loved to hear the signature-tune music, a nadaswaram-medley, which announce the “aarambh” of the “Karnatak Sangeet Sabha” at 5.30 p,m. SOS: I will be extremely grateful to anyone who can provide me with an audio/video of that nadaswaram-medley!). The radio used to be on most of the time, and we were familiar with all the different Hindi and Marathi music programs. At night, when sleeping also, after 10 p.m., a transistor used to play on in the dark: at that time it was generally “apli awad” on Bombay B. Some lesser-known classical-based film songs were to be heard only on classical-film-song-based programs (on Vividh Bharati) like Sangeet Sarita, Raag Rang, etc.: the song “Baar Baar Gayi Re Haar” by Suman Kalyanpur from the film Krishnavatar, for example, was to be heard only on Raag Rang. As I had the habit of preparing lists of songs from my childhood, many songs like this one, were known to very few people before I was the first to upload it on youtube (I got it from a collector of rare records) sixteen years ago:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oJNrGJQD4iA

The radio remained active even decades later, through the gramophone records period and the cassette recorder period. My father had much later bought a “two-in-one” (radio+cassette-player), and taped countless songs and classical pieces directly from the radio. Almost all of these gems were lost forever much later after the cassettes finally developed fungi and got spoilt. Here is one rare classical song “Eri Sajani Sanjh Saloni Ayi” that I managed to retrieve from a cassette much later and upload on youtube 17 years ago (long after my father was gone). The singers (though I didn’t know it till much later) were Shanti Mathur (of “Nanha Munna Rahi Hoon” fame from Son of India) and Shanta Saxena:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0DRTUbIVbcI

Among the countless gems on the tapes, lost forever, I remember a beautiful classical song in Bengali: I distinctly remember the tune and the (rich female) voice, but not the words, raga or singer-name. I hope one day, unexpectedly and inadvertently, I come across that song on youtube.

 

6. But it was when I was in school (in the nineteen-sixties) that we bought a record-player and started buying records. As my father was the only earner in the house, we had a limited budget: but at least one 78 rpm record (one song per side) bought every month, and occasionally a 45 rpm record (two songs or one long song per side) or 33 rpm record (five or six normal songs on one side). Although generally my father used to buy the records, many times we accompanied him to the record-shop in Girgaum, and often had discussions at home on particular records to be bought (Hindi, Marathi, Natyageet and Classical).

I remember on one occasion my father wanted to get a 33 rpm record of Guide (just a year or so after its release) and I wanted to get a 33 rpm record of Phir Wohi Dil Laya Hoon. We could not come to an agreement; but finally we did not get either of the two records: I think neither of them was available in the shop!

My mother used to suggest songs that she wanted when (usually) I and my father set out on our monthly purchase round. I remember the following songs particularly wanted by her:

Rama Raghunandana (Sukhachi Savli) Asha     

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rXKYq7DHALM

Kunitari Sanga Shriharila (Prem Andhala Asta) Asha

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6G7mjs02mSI

Shodhito Radhela Gopal (Shera Savva Sher) Bhimsen Joshi

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SH8QjT7OzkQ

Ugiich Ka Kanta (Natak Mookanayak) Shobha Gurtu

We only got the first of these records. Much later, I managed somehow to get my hands on the second song and uploaded it on youtube. The third song, by Bhimsen Joshi, was also a rare find very much later, and again I was the one to upload it on youtube. The fourth song is not available even on youtube even to this day and I have never actually heard the song.

My father was a neat, systematic person in every way. He had beautiful pearl-like handwriting (my handwriting, on the other hand, has always been what my mother calls “kaylya paaya” or “crow’s feet”). In those pearl-like letters he used to keep a systematic neat list of all the classical songs on his records (and later of all the classical and non-classical songs on his audio-tapes). All his records and audio-cassettes were numbered, and everything neatly noted down in a diary. That diary has still been preserved by me, and was of help to me while preparing my recent articles on raga-wise songs when trying to remember the classical songs we used to hear in the background every day in those days. [of course, the words of the songs were always as-heard-by-him 9i.e. not always correct), and were a great source of entertainment to us, and our father joined in the enjoyment, whenever we sat and read the titles of the songs as noted by him in his diary!].

In the (nineteen-) sixties and seventies, as I wrote above, the classical songs and natya-geets (our natyageet records were usually of the second wave of natya-sangeet which started in the sixties, perhaps with sangeet-nataks like Matsyagandha). Without realizing it, all this instilled in me an intrinsic deep liking for natya-sangeet and classical music. Many of the classical songs included in my article on raga-wise songs (uploaded today) formed the background-music in our house at the time. One particular song I remember was “Ab Tharo Bin Kun Mori Rakhe Laaj” in Pooriya by Pandit Jasraj (I think it was this 10+minutes version given below). My father (in his systematic Way) used to put this record early in the morning, and it felt like heaven to wake up hearing it. I thought it was only myself, but once even my sister said “this sounds so beautiful when you wake up in the morning hearing it!”, which has kept this particular song alive in my memory (though of course there were countless others by many singers):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=djtcGyn8KLQ

The records remained for years in our attic long after my father’s demise and after record-players became unavailable, and I was reluctant to part with them. But finally constraints of space (added to the huge size, weight and breakability of the records), and the feeling that maybe some collector with antique record-players would make better use of them than us (they were lying in our attic for over two decades) I was forced to call a well-known records-dealer from Chor Bazar and part with the records in 2021. I still don’t know whether I did right, and I remember breaking down in front of the old bearded father-son duo from Chor Bazar who came to collect the records, feeling as if I was giving away memories of my father. Strangely, I found the other day that even these record-shops in Chor Bazar have now stopped keeping gramophone records. It is too late now even for regrets.

 

7. While records continued to be played in our house even after the advent of tape-recorders, my father also acquired a huge collection of audio-cassettes. While many were pre-taped ones, he also bought blank ones which were used to tape directly from the radio (in our “two-in-one” where a blank cassette was always kept in readiness. In fact my father was so attached to his cassettes that (apart from numbering them and noting the taped contents in a diary) he used to be constantly cleaning and repairing the cassettes. The tape in the cassettes had a tendency to come out from the cassette-case, and to become loose or twisted or sometimes even to break. It became quite my father’s hobby to sit regularly with a screw-driver and a sticking tape, removing the screws from the cassette-case and straightening and rewinding the cassette-tapes, or even delicately sticking together the two broken ends of a broken tape. Rather like the proverbial Parsi gentleman taking meticulous care of his antique car! It was a sad time when any cassette became irreparable.

 

8. My parents liked to attend classical music programs though they did not do it on a regular basis. I remember them going to attend a program by Pandit Jasraj, in his early days of fame, in the building directly opposite ours. We also went to see sangeet-nataks, or at least I remember seeing a performance of the then new sangeet-natak “Matsyagandha” on the last day of our summer holidays when I was in some primary school class. As some child who was to play a bit part in the very first scene was not there, someone known to my father spotted us in the audience and asked if he could borrow one of us to play that bit-role. So during that particular show, my brother took part in the scene (which was a one-minute scene in the dark with thunder and rainfall in the background, where he had nothing particular to do).

As I wrote above, we used to buy gramophone records on a quota basis. Likewise, every month after my father (a bank employee like myself later) got his monthly salary, we used to go out for a treat (at eateries like Shetty Bhel-Puri, Bharat-Jyoti and Bharat-Dairy-farm at Nana Chowk). Also we used to see almost every new acclaimed Marathi social film, Hindi “mythological” film, and many acclaimed English films. My father was a very indulgent father, and being a hot-tempered but kind-hearted person, every time he lost his temper at any misbehavior on our parts, he used to immediately take us out to buy chocolates or ice-cream to make up for it!

When Doordarshan (TV) started in Bombay in October 1972, having a TV in the house was a rarity and a luxury. My sister’s school class friend staying in the neighborhood was among one of the earliest persons we knew, sometime in early 1973 or so, who had bought a TV and my sister went and saw it there. Although we felt a bit embarrassed, I and my brother also barged into their house the next day along with my sister (and many others). At that time, and for many years after, the highlights of Mumbai Doordarshan were (apart from countless other cultural programs in Hindi, Marathi, Gujarati and English, and a bi-weekly film-song-video program “Chhayageet”, which are all a part of great nostalgic memory for people of that time) a “regional language” film on Saturday evenings (Marathi alternating with other regional languages) and a Hindi film on Sunday evenings. What we saw that day was that the Saturday film that week was to be the old iconic Marathi film “Sant Tukaram” and the Sunday film was “Maya” (with Dev Anand and Mala Sinha). Right from my high school days in the early seventies, I used to go (mostly alone) to see old Hindi films in the large number of theatres which lined our Grant Road area at that time (sadly, almost all of them only memories now) and I had seen “Maya” in the theatre. We rushed home and begged our father to buy a TV.

At that time, very few people had TVs. There were some very rich people in our colony who had cars, but none of them had yet acquired a TV: TVs were not only expensive and a electricity-drainer, but you even had to acquire a license from the state government and regularly pay the license fees (apart from the nuisance of attaching an antenna on the roof, which required periodic adjustment). But my father immediately took out a bank loan and bought a TV (a Standard TV incidentally) by Saturday afternoon. We informed all our friends in the neighborhood, and on that day, and for many years after, our house was a regular mini-theatre packed with viewers (especially for the weekly films and “Chhayageet” programs).

[Incidentally, the regional film the very second week was the Tamil film “Thillana Mohanambal” starring Sivaji Ganesan and Padmini, a film which, in these youtube days, I have downloaded on to my computer. In the first few years we got to see so many films in every regional language of India, although basically it was a Marathi channel, that it enriched our experience, broadened our cultural perspectives and instilled that feeling of national oneness that the present day commercialized system, where you have to pay a separate lump sum for every different regional language “package” of channels in your TV, would not even begin to understand].

And for very long after that, maybe well into the nineties (even after different cable channels started) we had the practice of keeping a cassette-recorder ready on a teapoy near the TV whenever it appeared likely that we would be able to tape some beautiful songs/music (from particular films, song programs or other musical programs). The TV (along with the “two-in-one”) was thus the source of most of the music taped in our audio cassettes.

 

8. While no two persons musical choices will coincide 100%, there were many occasions when I was listening enraptured to some song (perhaps heard or consciously heard for the first time on TV) and then I heard my mother (sometimes even from a neighboring room), clearly equally enraptured,  exclaiming “what a beautiful song!” after the song ended. A few particular songs (there are many more) about which this happened, and therefore the songs remind me of my mother, are the following:

Ze Ved Mazala Laagale- Asha Bhosle, Sudhir Phadke (Avghachi Saunsar)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=et9BHh7E-BU

Magar Ai Haseenae Bekhabar- Mohd. Rafi, Sulochana Kadam (Dholak)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wXzuZyjRjvM

Hamen Maro Na Nainon Ke Baan- Asha Bhosle (Kalpana)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HyVw_izoask

In the case of the last, I also remember my mother ecstatically remarking on the incomparable singing talent of the “sisters” (i.e. Lata Mangeshkar and Asha Bhosle).

 

9. Basically I have mentioned, above, various songs which remind me of my father or my mother because they are (i.e. each of the songs is) associated with some particular memory or incident involving one or both of them. But in general, any song talking about mothers, fathers, childhood days, old days, bygone days (which will never come back again), nostalgic memories, etc., and also of regrets, separation, death, etc. remind me of my parents. Beautiful music itself (simply by its sheer beauty, even without any particular emotional memory being involved) has the power to bring a lump to my throat and uncontrollable tears to my eyes (maybe I am over-sentimental), but songs with direct associations with parents much more so.

Here are some beautiful songs which I love, and at the same time dread to listen to because I know I will dissolve in tears after hearing them. The first of these (uploaded by me twice on youtube) is perhaps the saddest and most heart-rending somg in the world. At least in my opinion! But read the comments to the various videos.

Aai Tujhi Aathvan Yete- Bhalchandra Pendharkar (Duritanche Timir Zavo)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o4wYToaqljw

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l_DGiBV3HhA

Kalpavruksha Kanyesathi Lavuniya Baba Gela- Lata (nonfilm)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bTNOY03Dxgs

 

Tumse Hi Ghar Ghar Kehlaya- Mukesh (Bhabhi Ki Chudiyan)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LQrSxRzNvFU

 

Ik Tha Bachpan- Lata (Ashirwad)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yGXSW54A9eY

 

There are of course many more and beautiful songs extolling mothers and fathers. Just one prominent example:

Usko Nahin Dekha Hamne Kabhi- Mahendra, Manna (Daadi Ma)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TjFijlkXnwc

 

There are many things, we are told, which will never ever come back once they are gone: youth, health, once-in-a-lifetime golden opportunities, true love, and so on. But the most important and priceless things in the world which/who will never come back once they are gone are parents, and people who are lucky enough to have their parents still around them (assuming of course that they are normal parents and not the kind of monster-parents we see in crime stories, who ill-treat and exploit their children in unspeakable ways) should realize this and see that their actions and words leave no room for later regrets.

Today, 5 April 2026, being the day when my father would have completed 100 years of age, I am uploading this article, as well as the two following articles dedicated to their memory, mentioned in the beginning of this article.