KK Will Always Be There..!

It was 31st May, 2022. The sky was wearied and the clouds hung low in grief.  I was standing on the firmament of disbelief – dismayed and dejected. Strumming the broken strings of hope to play an unfinished song. Sometimes Hope is hostile and hackneyed! Sometimes, Hope is a thing with tattered feathers- mute, inert!  I felt like a hammer banging on my ribcage on hearing the terrible news of my favourite singer KK’s sudden passing. No matter how hard I tried, tears welled up in my eyes like my unyielding little girl, as if the flickering wick of memory was rekindled, oiled, fanned. The day was a ventriloquist perhaps, as I could hear KK’s songs without even playing the numbers. Was it playing in my head? I wondered! The sporadic deluge of tears hurled against the back of my eyes and were unstoppable as I played “ Pal rahe ya na rahe yaad aayenge ye pal” and it instantaneously took me back to the college farewell day.
I have always taken refuge in his songs whenever life threw me a curveball.

I watched “Hum Dil de Chuke Sanam” with my foster parents and the song “Tadap tadapke” became an earworm. It traced the edges of something fragile deep within me, I could not name – a simulacrum of heightened emotions, perhaps. It lingered on in my head, although I could feel the real essence of the song only when I had my first heartbreak. It was as if the song meandered through my veins. I still remember how I would lay coiled, drowned in a pool of sadness, listening to “ Agar mile Khudato, puchhunga Khuda se, jism mujhedekar mitti ka seeshe ka dil kyun banaya” …

I would listen to this number in a loop as uncertainties bled through the cracks of my hostel room. I embraced the questions, the uncertainties, the open wound, and the perpetual state of becoming. How KK’s voice gave me the solace when I desperately needed some comfort. The searing pain silently slinked away with time, as I would immerse myself in the universe KK had created with his songs. Peace eventually coursed through my bosom like a calming fjord.

The pandemonium of Delhi, juggling between hostel chores and my job, when songs like “Zara Si Dil Mein De Jagah Tu,or “Sach Keh Raha Hai Deewana” pepped me up in a snap of the fingers. His voice gave me a tranquillising calm. The fuchsia velvet syllables tucked beneath the cobbled fence of my life crooned in unison as I hummed these songs, swaddling them across my tongue to quench a long-endured thirst.

I have innumerable memories with the song “ Zara si dil me de jagah tu” but that is for another day, another time.

A cold and sombre day during the initial days of working with Standard Chartered Bank, and I found “Beete lamhe” in my playlist to offer me the best amity, shoving off the marinated problems.
I used to listen to “Kya Mujhe Pyaar Hai” in a loop at one point in time, and KK’s voice gave me goosebumps, yes his voice, not the so-called “Pyaar” I was inflicted by.

I still remember a terrible day at work in Hindustan Times, and after returning to my PG, I had blasted the Sony speaker in full volume with the song “Aashayein khiledil ki, ummedein hase dil ki, ab mushkilnahi kuch bhi, nahi kuch bhi, guzre aisihar raat raat…ho khwaishoon se baat baat ashay aashayein”, and I had found my equanimity as if someone swayed a magic wand to set things right. A psychedelic effect lulled me to sleep and I dreamed about the iconography of a new dawn.
“Yaaro dosti” has been my all-time favourite when I intended to whisper the missives of friendship to my bosom friends.

“Yaad humein karna aur phir haar kar,Kehna kyun magar keh dia …alvida.”
A song I used to sing at the top of my voice with my hostel mates . A time when I longed for something – I could not name. A feeling that to my skin, remained numb yet piercing, both at the same time. A song that released me from an unknown tormenting snag. A song that cascaded through my misty mind, and tangled knots to morph into an eternal saudade. A song I hold very close to my heart, to this day.

There will never be a time when someone falls in love and not sing “Kya mujhe pyaar hai” and Tu Hi Meri Shab Hai” and bask in the glory of love. And there will never be a time when someone will have a heartbreak and not sing, “Chand Lamhaat Ke Waaste Hi Sahi, Muskuraakar Mili Thi Mujhe Zindagi” or “ Lut gaye hum Teri muhabbat me” to heal and seal the open wound of parting, a lost love, a broken heart, a false hope, a dwindling friendship, or a life with potholes and patches.

My life is insanely entwined with KK’s songs and they’ll always remain very close to my heart. He’ll continue to live in me, in us, through his timeless, stirring voice.

As I type this, my TV screen flickers to life, bathing the room in a pale, ethereal light with KK’s “Alvida.” The song ends, the screen darkens, and silence envelops me yet again, KK’s voice weighing heavily on my mind. I realize with a jolt that I’ve been holding my breath for too long, and I exhale slowly, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. The sound of my breath echoes in my throat.
KK left us empty hearted and distraught, leaving the cryptic word “Alvida” to ponder over. And I find myself dissecting its true meaning. Tracing the filigree and edges of the word as if it holds some secret code. It’s rattling how the cracks in the ceiling can gnaw at you, a reminder of the transience of existence.

Do we all bid our final “Alvida” to people, never to meet again? Or, do we meet them again – someday, somewhere, in a parallel plane perhaps?

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