The beats of the drum

24 Jul

As I spoke to my friends’ sister-in-law, I could hear the beats of a tabla ( a percussion instrument) being played in the background. It evoked strong memories of my mother, who used to play at numerous social gatherings, dinner parties, weddings and Mehndi nights. “Oh, Mrs ——! Why don’t you play?”  “Please Mrs —–, sing for us! Play the tabla!” The women would plead, implore and encourage mum by placing a spoon in her hand and pressing her clenched hand onto the table.  Mum would react with some reluctance at first, displaying modesty and humility. But the beats of the drum would easily sway mum to become absorbed in the sound of the music. Meditative, delightful and passionate. Sometimes, you would hear laughter. Other times, tears. But overall, a joyous occasion shared by women.

Photo: commissioned for a 40th wedding anniversary

Dad didn’t quite have the same “musicality” as mum . He did however, have a strong sense of verse and poetry. He would be sitting in another room, surrounded by men, his peers, long term friends and new acquaintances.   His reputation surpassed his knowledge. People would invite him to recite poetry, “ghazals” and verse, write articles, poems and provide awards, receive rewards of recognition and accomplishments. His words, strong and emotive, would reverberate around the room, halls and amongst the crowds. The tone of his voice resonated, the audience murmuring assent, applauding the sound of words, spoken with aplomb.

However, I chose to ignore, didn’t understand…

But now I cry, soft tears roll down my cheeks, memories strong for the love of my parents I long…

Love is like...

 

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