Of D’jango, Gig and Banana Bar

The red light floated dimly across every nook and cranny of the modest space of Banana Bar. It was Sunday evening, and the environment at the bar was a heady concoction of free flowing smoke, unknown faces, most of them looked akin though, the kind that belongs to the genre of long curly hair, loose-torn denims, ill fitting (read matter-of-factly-casual) t-shirts. This of course was for the men, the ladies, all were dressed to kill; at least we were. Um yeah we looked typical too to a large extent- the kind with khol laden eyes, denims of all size, cig in one hand while fosters balancing on the fingertips. This was us, the audience, there to cheer our larynges out for Gowri (our own beloved D’jango) while she nervously scurried around the tiny bar twiddling her thumbs, fighting the pre-performance jitters and sweat. This was her day, her gig, her best bet…

In the perfect corner they set up the mic, with perfect tuning she sang through the night. She would look at us, the audience was nothing but a bunch infested with her own buddies, who clapped and yo-ed her enthusiastically at every note she played.
I stood there, in absolute awe of this lil one; I had the perfect view of her singing and playing her guitar. I felt I was drifting through territories of past, present and future (music has that power), while I swam in and out of dreamy moments, D’jangs voice filled my inner self and I almost cried (you know it’s the thing with being proud of someone so much that you can cry!) when she sang her OCs – My favourites are Lost and Real Love and of course Mango tree, which did not perform that night.

I could sense the feeling of liberation in her voice, she was so confident and stood in that perfect corner making it her place, her own space, where she can croon and all will be here to stay. For that moment I felt- how fulfilling it would be if I could sing and play maybe, how free I would feel to have my own block where I can just be, Oh I wish I had a vocation for this. Ok the thunder for now belongs to D’jangs, so back to you girl…
I wish she played longer, for, I love her voice and I love the strumming of her guitar, though Imaad was not bad at all, but I am slightly biased- to me this girl rocked!

So, the floaty evening came to an end, my mood was trifle intense, vocal chords were strained and tensed, wanted to shout louder than permissible that D’jango may this journey of music that you’ve embarked upon, invites me to more of your gigs, for, this lesser mortal is your ardent fan and yeah, it fulfills those incomplete quarters of my life in the most incomprehensible ways.

Kudos to our kid!