Early Serendipity
In 1971, India was at war with Pakistan. Ours was a simple community of middle class South Indians. Generally it is said that South Indians make good tenants even in the other parts of India because they are generally bovine, and had the reputation of paying their rents on time. One night the armed forces of India sent out tracers into the sky- bright bursts of light to detect enemy aircraft. “Black out” had been mandated in our area- no lights were allowed and all windows had been sealed with thick paper to prevent any light from escaping. Someone in our community decided that the tracers were bombs, even though they were clearly traveling in the opposite direction. Basically controlled frenzy set in, and everyone started to pray in loud whispers, simultaneously an expression of panic and a reassurance to one another that God had us covered. Whoever made the effort to sound confident owned the credibility of the moment. Suku was muscular and drove a motorbike, so everyone decided to let him make the decisions- he looked the closest to being a member of the armed forces. He concluded that everyone should huddle together in the stairwell of the building. The incessant hushed prayer, with an occasional loud gasp that immediately met the disapproval of everyone- the warnings that the Pakistani aircraft would detect the gasps were louder than the gasps themselves. One thing you should know about Tamil Brahmins, they don’t run out of prayers and Gods that easily. Yet, after three hours, Pakistan didn’t seem like a threat, and levity set in. People started to sing and have fun. Attention turned to me, I was a little boy,about seven years old. I sang a Kishore Kumar song, and became an instant success. I knew I could sing, but this was my first time in public. The words I heard that night gave me the belief that I could perform on stage. After my first song (Meri Bheegi Bheegi si), I owned the rest of the night. I must have sung twenty songs, And everyone forgot about Suku.