Weepy Wimla and Ustad Avaaz Ali Khan
VASANTHA SURYA
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Wimla’s screams really did sound different. Could it be possible that the prediction was right?
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eeh- hee-hee- Hoohoohoo....!”
Weepy Wimla’s father was having a nap after a Sunday afternoon lunch of poorie-potatoes when the weird shriek reached his ears. “Hah! Who....Wha’ happened?” he sprang up, ready to spring to Wimla’s defe
nce. Because, of course, he knew it was Wimla screaming. Who else could scream like that?
“It must be one of those pesky monkeys from the park nearby!” he cried, bouncing up and bolting up the stairs. “Somebody must have left the balcony door open, and it must be attacking the children!”
Great voice
He threw open the bedroom door. No monkey! But Wimla was shrieking all right.
She was being tickled by her best friends Teena-Meena, the twins...
“Take it easy, girls!” he told them, smiling with relief. “Now play something else! Carrom, for instance…” He pulled out the board and laid it on the floor, and they obediently began to arrange the coins in the centre. But just as he started to leave the room, Wimla poked Teena in her tummy, and the giggles started again, with Teena going eeheehihi…. Appa shook his head and left thinking,
“Teena’s scream is nothing like Wimla’s....Wimla, my daughter, has a really unusual voice....”
He remembered when she was a baby...A famous musician and friend of the family, Ustad Avaaz Ali Khan, had come to see his favourite student’s baby girl...The student? Wimla’s mother Shobhana of course. And while the grownups were chatting in the living room, the month-old baby lay asleep in the next room. “So, Shobhanaji, when are you coming back to learn the Todi Raag? Hmm?”
Shobhana opened her mouth to reply, when all of a sudden from the next room came a sound: “WAAAH.....Waah....Waahh.....”
Ustad Avaaz Ali Khan stood transfixed, his long locks of white hair standing on end all around his head! His eyes seemed about to pop out of his head.
“Masterji…Are you feeling well? Here, please have a sip of water!” Shobhana hovered nervously over the old man, glass in hand.
“No, no,don’t disturb me, please!” He waved the glass away. “Beti! Do you hear it? This wonderful music…Ah, from which part of heaven is it coming?” he whispered, as he sat cross-legged on the sofa, and closed his eyes. A blissful smile had spread from ear to ear.
Meanwhile Wimla’s father Suresh had scurried away to the next room. The waahing and wheeing went on even after that, for a full three minutes, and by that time, Ustad Avaaz Ali Khan was shaking his head from side to side, and murmuring, “Wah! Wah!” , with his right hand beating out the rhythm on his lap.
Wimla’s parents came back, with her lying in her father’s arms, happily sucking her finger. They all looked at her making the usual baby faces, wrinkling her nose and yawning and blinking.
Ustad Avaaz Ali said. “Yes, yes, I know! She looks just like any other baby. But make no mistake! She is a gifted child! Gifted with a miraculous voice! Well, the closest thing to it that I have heard is Shor Begum’s Bhairav alaap, when I was in my twenties...What a voice the lady had! She could be heard in the next village!” Shobhana and Suresh listened silently. They looked at each other, trying not to wince at the thought of what Shor Begum’s voice must have been like....
“Let all that be, now..” said Ustad Avaaz. “This baby has a voice that has brought tears of joy to my eyes! The sooner you train her in classical music, the better. Hindustani, Carnatic…it doesn’t matter which! She will be a musical wonder! Do you know , that Todi Raag I was going to teach you, Shobhana ji? Well, your daughter sang it just now! Did you hear it?” And he opened his mouth and broke into song... “Aaah, aaahhhaaa...” Shobhana and Suresh sat there blinking... They had not planned on listening to a khayal just then, but there was no denying it was a treat. Ustad Avaaz Ali sang and sang for quite a while. But they didn’t quite understand...did their baby really sing Todi Raag? They exchanged doubtful looks and peeped at their baby, who had fallen asleep with a big smile on her very small face.
“Look at her!” whispered Ustad Avaaz Ali. “She appreciates music! She doesn’t just make it! Please, see that your little daughter gets a thorough musical instruction and develops that marvellous voice of her. Only a gemologist will notice a diamond inside a piece of rock, do you agree? Well, I am a gemologist of voices, and in this child’s cries I have detected a truly brilliant Todi Raag — like an uncut diamond!”
He beamed at them, blessed them all, and left a packet of sugar cubes in the baby’s crib...
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