Between the Notes: Night Trail

Stories hiding in crafty silences of my music

Photograph : Romel Dias

Every song is a story, every story is a song.

During my lockdown pursuit “Midnight Musings & The Mandolin” I discovered myriad connections between stories & music and found newer dimensions of creating music as well as telling stories.

The idea behind this blog is to put forth my process behind the music, and taking those of you who are interested in listening to the silences between the notes, on a journey I travelled while crafting my music. I hope you will find a deeper meaning and will connect a little better with my music, than just as an auditory experience.

Every piece of art has two stories. One which the artist starred in, leading to the song. And the other which the listener stars in, while experiencing it. While this blog takes you through my story, your story while listening to it is entirely yours and cent percent valid! This is in no way a guidebook on “how to listen to my music!”

My recent release Night Trail has a little story. Allow me to take you back to 2003.

A Winter Night in Mysore

J lived in a women's students hostel. The typical rules : No men allowed, gates shut at 8 pm. She was transported to and fro her college in the official bus.

Even if she had to step out before 8 pm, she needed to be accompanied by an authroized guardian, after a verified phone call with her parents. The 8 pm gate shut rule still applied though.

T lived with his family, and had no rules. He rode a Bajaj Pulsar, though he was two years away from being eligible to apply for a driving licence.

T & I became friends after being rivals in numerous inter-college competitions.

On a chilly winter evening, T & I caught up. The conversation was so deep & long that 10 pm seemed to arrive a few hours early.

“Shit, I am late! Let’s go” T hurriedly started his bike.

“Alright”. I sat behind. I assumed he was late to get home, and that he would drop me off before heading to his place.

“Where are we going?” I realised he was taking a different route, no where close to where I lived.

“I told you about J, right? We are going to meet her. ”

“Now? But isn’t she in a hostel? Wait, you already broke up with P? Or are you multitasking? ” I thundered through the chilly wind as the bike cruised at 90 kmph.

“Neither! J is a good friend. And P knows I am meeting her now”

T parked the bike and signalled me to stay quiet. So my very important questions had to wait.

After 5 minutes of standing together in silence, I noticed something in the compound wall a few yards ahead of me.

An awkwardly wobbling head covered in a “monkey cap” popped up.

“Come” T beckoned as he rushed below the wall. He took position and signalled me to do so as well as the bank robberesque figure plonked itself on the 8 ft wall.

The figure turned around and let it’s feet dangle while T and I held its waist for support as it slid down.

I simply followed T's silent orders robotically. I had no clue what was I being dragged into. Did I just become an accomplice for a robbery or a break in? I tried my best to not let my fears show.

T and I ran towards the bike. After reaching the bike I turned around and was stunned. The monkey cap was off and a very pleasant face beamed. She did a little jig, punched the air, trotted towards us and gave T a hug.

“Hello, I am J”she smiled at me and quickly sat pillion. T started the bike and told me “we will be back” and vroomed away.

11 pm on a chilly winter night, I found myself alone on an empty Mysore bylane. Phoneless at that time, I was also clueless on how do I get back home? There was no rick in sight. Did T & J commit a crime? Will I be arrested? I froze into emptiness at these thoughts and just let destiny decide the course of my life.

Many moments later, I heard a bike. I hid behind a tree hoping it’s not a beat cop.

Thankfully it was T & J. J alighted. Her beaming face now glowing even brighter.

She put on the “monkey cap” and walked towards the wall. T asked me to follow him and once again, I obeyed like a robot.

We helped her scale the wall. She slid off the other side slowly on her own and whispered “I landed safe! Bye guys!”

I quietly sat behind as T rode. He stopped after ten minutes and said “I owe you an explanation”.

“J is in my class, as you know” T began.

“She is from a super orthodox family and all through her school life, she wasn’t allowed to make friends, go on school picnics, night caps, birthday parties.. She wasn’t even allowed to attend her class X farewell!

Now that she has moved to Mysore for Junior College as there are no good colleges in her village, her family has put her up in the strictest of women student hostels.

One day in college she saw me parking my bike and expressed a wish to ride pillion on it. I told her I can drop her back but a shrill whistle followed. Her hostel supervisor was waiting with the bus. And the same day a phone call was made to her parents as her daughter was found talking to a boy!

So over the next few days through notes exchanged in class, we figured this plan. Every Friday night at 10:15, she would jump the wall and I would be waiting outside, and take her for a spin for a few rounds on my bike.

So this is her only joy in her caged life. In fact it was P's idea to get her to sneak out once a week” T summed it up.

At that point, it was too much for me to process. I was just glad to not have been left stranded and not being implicated in a criminal case. I just “whatevered”him a shrug and got off at my place.

Many years later, sometime in the winter of 2020, I was reading about the Ashtanayikas (8 types of leading ladies) in the Natyashastra as research for my live daily Instagram podcast. Simultaneously, I was working out the music to go along with the episode. One of the Ashtanayikas, The Abhisarika, depicts the stealth of a woman sneaking out in the dark to meet her forbidden love.

At that moment, the memory I recounted above flashed. It had been 17 years, T and I had drifted apart once I left Mysore and that was the first and the last time I saw J.

But as I was reading about the Abhisarika, visions of J's pleasant smile as she took off the monkey cap with a delightful spring in her step, her sheer excitement as she punched the air and trotted towards the bike, her courageous scaling of an 8 foot wall, all these flashed in my mind.

I picked up the mandolin and played the scene over and over again. The raaga Bageshri played itself on my mandolin and set itself to the tempo of the delightful spring in the step of J as she trotted towards the bike, glowing brighter than the moon above.

This is what led to Night Trail. An attempt to paint using melody as colours over the canvas of rhythm - the spring in the step of the women who broke rules as the Abhisarikas in the Natyashastra recreated by J a thousand years later.

Listen to Night Trail & picture J as she rides free on the streets of Mysore on a chilly winter night of 2003 :)

I’ve released a 5 track album (Titled Midnight Musings & The Mandolin) where each track has been composed while internalizing a particular story .

Stories behind these tracks will follow in later posts, along with more musings, stories and perspectives. Stay connected if you enjoy such tales and share my blog with people who you think will dig this :).