It rained, finally. I didn’t want it to stop and it didn’t, for a good long time. I smiled as my friend drove, smiled as we could barely see anything but the rain or hear each other speak and I wanted to say thank you to the rain, to my friend, to my city which has been waiting for the first monsoon shower and seemed to be saying, “Look here, walk down this street, remember to take this turn or come back later if you can’t now, where have you been living all this while?”

Where have I been living? I don’t know.

But I’m here now, at a live concert listening to a gavati that has made me feel incredibly alive. I can feel my face and my hands. I feel like I was lost and only just returned to my body. I remember reading that this is the raga that BGAK taught GNB. I remember GNB’s Kapi Narayani that I love. And then I fall asleep for a few minutes, drifting into notes within notes drawn out like petals, that seem to unfold and then close, but never quite fully. Waves of sound circle, rise and fall and I want to remember now.

 

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