The hundred-odd crowd is boisterous. There are arrangements for karaoke. Everyone is in a festive mood. He climbs up the stage and stands in a corner. The crowd expects him to sing to a thumping beat. He doesn’t. He doesn’t ask for the karaoke. He starts singing calmly. The crowd quietens down instantly.
He sings of the matters of the heart. Dil diya gallan. The ballad of love. You know he is singing for her. In a language she understands.
Oh my beloved!
All this anger is paper-thin.
Listen to me.
Look into my eyes, and
let’s talk about the music in our hearts.
You don’t have to be a music connoisseur or know the language to understand. His crystal clear voice hits the heart directly. And then the rain from my eyes doesn’t stop. I’ve never been overwhelmed by a song like this before. The entire audience feels the lump in their throats.
But then the matters of the heart are always like this. Held together by frayed threads, these are strong bonds. You can be upset, you can be annoyed, but never let the distances creep in.
He sings along:
Mere aasmaan mausaman di na sune Koi khwaab na poora bune
(My skies don’t respond to the weather None of my dreams gets woven fully)
Not everyone is lucky to find such love in one lifetime. When you find it, treasure it with all that you have. Nothing else means anything. Nothing else matters.