Skip to main content

ROCK AWAY THE BLUES

Image
SANGEETHA KAMATH

Today I sing Wind Of Change by the band Scorpions and dedicate it to my daddy dearest whom I affectionately address as 'annu'. Daddy was a great aficionado of good music in any genre from any part of the world. He especially liked rock bands and melodies with guitar renditions accompanying the lyrics. A great fan of Country, Blues, Pop and Rock music he was. Truly ! 

His collections too were from the golden era when musicians and songwriters had a Midas touch. Spanning from vinyl records to audio cassettes, annu cherished those with delicate care. Never did a morning pass in my childhood when sweet notes didn't fill the air of our home. This was a steady ritual right after breakfast and during the time we got ready for school and my parents for work. 

And the evergreen idealistic dreamer that I was (and still am) would carry these songs as an earworm and play it all along the ride to school in my head. And replay it, staring blankly at the board whenever lessons got too boring. 

Winters lent a different flavor to the same songs as did summers and the summer holidays. Jubilant and full of sunshine!

But the real despair was brought on by the dim darkness of the pouring monsoons during the late seventies in the month of July when rains were at their zenith. Songs which were played during this time are till today equated with the gloom the damp air was shrouded in at the time long ago. 

Yet, the strains are so haunting that they magically transport me back to a time and place I long for. Akin to turning a radio dial, I relive those idyllic moments which must still be existing in a different dimension...

Annu had instilled the love of music in me right from a tender age and had even advised me to play symphonies of Beethoven and Mozart for Babylou right from her infancy during her wakeful state. He was so right as he always was and knock on wood his advice has turned out into a fortuitous prophecy ( for me as well)

This wistful song Wind Of Change and the soothing frequency it brings me to is dedicated to you my dear Annu. Wherever you are, I'm quite certain you were around watching and gladly listening to me rehearse and post this final recording 💜

PIC COURTESY:  PINTEREST 

Labels:

Comments

  1. KristinJuly 2, 2025 at 7:38 AM

    I remember the music my parents played through our my childhood too. Hearing one of those pieces takes me right back there.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Sanguine AllegoryJuly 2, 2025 at 10:33 AM

      Hi Kristin, so glad to know we that we share the same sentiments 💜

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

CHAPTER 1: THE JADE SHAMBHALA

SANGEETHA KAMATH
This post is Chapter 1 of short story series titled The Jade Shambhala. Tasseography is as old as time. The stories in the tea leaves will leave you in a spin, while the healing tea that precedes it anchors you like gripping oak roots. Every day for the next seven days, Xiu-Ying will welcome a new traveler seeking refuge from their heavy burdens, reading their futures in the settled leaves and guiding them toward peace as the seasons shift on the ridge. Welcome to The Jade Shambhala Tea House!                               CHAPTER 1                            EARLY SPRING  Ko-San Tê Bai Mudan (White Peony and Red Dates) The morning mist in the rolling hills of the 1980s Taiwanese countryside did not rise; it dissolved, burning away into thin silver threads under the persistent warmth of the early spring sun.  The Yun-Shan Ridge grew f...
2 comments
Read more

QUEST FOR THE BEARS (DAY 18, LETTER Q)

SANGEETHA KAMATH
                      CHAPTER 17             QUEST FOR THE BEARS  The next day, the pigs trotted off to spread mischief in the woodland, their ricky-ticky steps scuffing the damp path into a mess of overturned leaves and broken twigs. Goldwynn stayed crouched behind the wonky rain barrel until the sound of their pig-trouble thinned, then thinned again, then dissolved into the larger quiet of the trees. She didn’t move right away. The woods had a way of listening after the pigs left, as if it wasn’t sure they were truly gone. The air held its breath with her. When she finally stood, the silence felt heavier than noise. No birds called. The light came down in broken pieces, the sun playing hide-and-seek through beech and alder, dappling the forest floor with spools of pale gold. The ground under her boots was soft and cold, a black earth that smelled of truffles gone to rot and old rain. It stuck to ...
6 comments
Read more

THE BIG BAD WOLF( DAY 17, LETTER T)

SANGEETHA KAMATH
                          CHAPTER 16                    THE BIG BAD WOLF  The pigs snarled like proper rascals, fixing their cold steely eyes on the Wolf's cottage. How dare he refuse to part with his cottage! When the pigs demand, it's given to them---no questions asked! Porkinn limped, Baconne was soggy, Swinedell rubbed a sore bump on his head, but they were far from defeated. Swinedell snorted, a crooked grin spreading across his face. "Wolf thinks 'e's posh, don't 'e? " Baconne sniffed the air, his nostrils flaring. "We want the cottage!” He growled. Porkinn cracked his fingers, his sly glance darting about.  The pigs crept towards the back door, their footsteps silent on the soft grass. They spotted the Wolf through the kitchen window, stirring a pot of steaming stew for dinner. They kicked the door in, the wood splintering jaggedly. The latch gave in....
6 comments
Read more

RUTHLESS REVELATIONS (DAY 16, LETTER R)

SANGEETHA KAMATH
                            CHAPTER 15                RUTHLESS REVELATIONS The Three Little Pigs stood triumphant in the whimsical cottage's living room, surrounded by mismatched furniture and waltzing dust motes. Baconne , Porkinn , and Swinedell grinned at each other, puffing out their chests like gangsters. Baconne swaggered closer to the makeshift bar. "You know," he said, stroking his shoulder, "the Big Bad Wolf wasn't so bad after all, was he?" His grin split wide, showing a gold-capped tooth. The pigs snorted, their belly laughs vibrating the chandeliers above. Swinedell poured three tiny glasses of wild truffle liqueur with a theatrical flourish. "Cheers to us!" he growled, hoisting a glass. "We wanted his posh cottage for ourselves. Wolfie mutt was just defending his pad." His eyes glinted like cheap jewels. Goldwynn's face paled. She stammered as she whispered, " Wha...
4 comments
Read more

CHAPTER 2: THE JADE SHAMBHALA

SANGEETHA KAMATH
      This is a part of a short story series titled The Jade Shambhala. 7 days, 7 stories, 7 different exotic tea blends from the Far East and unique tea leaves reading for each. Welcome to the tea house!                             CHAPTER 2                      LUNAR NEW YEAR          Kim-huan Tê ( Golden Lily Oolong) The early spring air hanging over Sian-Phô village was heavy, smelling faintly of spent sulfur from the Lunar New Year firecrackers and the cold, sharp scent of wet pine needles.  Up on the Yun-Shan Ridge, the festive red lanterns hanging from the eaves of the low wooden cottages were damp and water-logged, their brilliant scarlet dye bleeding slowly into the persistent gray mountain mist. The holiday had just ended, and while the rest of the village was settling into the quiet hope of a new agricultural...
Post a Comment
Read more