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I realized that I had both my hands to my mouth in shock. I know that Purva sings, of course, but I also know how much he hates singing in public.
‘For you, Kasturi,’ said Purva into the microphone, his eyes boring into mine, ‘from all of us.’
By this time, I realized, almost everyone was standing in their places. Sitting there, in the midst of silence, shocked out of my wits, I waited.
Vikram began strumming the familiar tunes of one of my all-time favourite songs. ‘I’m Gonna Be…’ I looked on stunned and Pitajee beat the tambourine to the tune with a grin plastered on his face.
I gasped as realization hit home. This was the song Dad had once, many, many years ago, sung for Mum. Purva knew this and was recreating the same moment for me. In front of the whole world! Purva had not opened his mouth yet, but tears were already pooling in my eyes. It could not get any more perfect!
Only it would.
‘When I wake up, well I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who wakes up next to you,’ Purva sang in his golden voice, mimicking The Proclaimers so well that I wondered for one mad minute if he was just lip-syncing.
In that one instant a little charpai had materialized next to the trio, and Veena, my littlest cousin, and Rahul, Purva’s little nephew, were just waking up. Little Purva looks at little Kasturi who is trying her best to make her yawn look believable and gives her a big hug.
‘Aww!’ I heard someone say.
‘When I go out, yeah I know, I know, I’m gonna be the man who goes along with you,’ crooned Purva to the beat that Vikram and Pitajee provided.
The charpai had vanished and in place of the little kids, Mum and Dad stepped out of a door cut out of cardboard. Mum had a little pink purse slung around her shoulders, ready to go out. Grinning at me and singing the song, hand in hand, Mum and Dad walked past me, looking giddy like teenagers.
‘Mum!’ I screamed in delight, along with others.
‘If I get drunk, well I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you,’ sang Purva as his mausaji appeared, pretending to be intoxicated next to a stern-looking Mausiji. The look on Mausiji’s face was so disapproving that we all collectively burst out laughing.
‘If I haver, yeah I know I’m gonna be I’m gonna be the man who is havering to you,’ sang Purva, grinning at me again. His cousin Utkarsh appeared, talking rubbish to a seemingly irritated Padma. Padma, mock anger written all over face, thwacked Utkarsh with her hands, making all of us laugh again.
By now everyone was on their feet, clapping to the music in unison. Every eye was on the three men who were performing a few feet away from me. Purva, Vikram and Pitajee sang the beautiful, gorgeous chorus, hitting the right notes, the right voices all put together so beautifully, that I had goosebumps on my hands as I listened to them, enraptured.
‘For I would walk five hundred miles and I would walk five hundred more…’
And then just Purva. ‘It’s the beat of a man who walks a thousand miles,’ sang Purva, his solo voice ringing out loud and clear to the rhythm that had everyone mesmerized, ‘and fall down at your door.’ And with that, twenty of our friends and cousins, who had been gathering around the boys all this while, came forward and fell down at my feet, much to the amusement of the other guests. Mad cheering followed this, but Purva continued.
‘When I’m working, yes I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who is working hard for you.’ Dad again appeared, this time wearing his doctor’s coat, stethoscope around his neck, and as Purva sang this line, he winked at me and pretended to quickly perform one surgery after the other, eliciting much laughter from everyone around.
‘And when the money comes in for the work I do, I’ll pass almost every penny on to you,’ Purva crooned into the microphone, his body swaying to the beat. His confidence and charisma had me completely shocked. This man was born for the stage! Where was the shy, quiet doctor I knew?
To my utter astonishment, Mr Vijaywada emerged from the crowd as Purva sang this, showering fake currency notes at his delighted wife.
‘Mr Vijaywada!’ I yelped, laughing and crying at the same time, stunned at all the people who had got together for this little act.
‘When I come home, yeah I know I’m gonna be,’ sang Purva, his melodious voice ringing across the hall, and his Tauji appeared and started running Bollywood-style towards a cardboard cut-out of a house, beside which stood Taiji smiling with a cup of tea in her hand. ‘I’m gonna be the man who comes back home to you.’
‘And if I grow old, well I know I’m gonna be,’ sang Purva as, to my absolute delight, my nanaji came forward, limping a little. This was the first time that I had seen him walk without his walking stick but that was not what had my eyes popping out. Nanaji was clad in a beige kurta exactly like Purva’s.
‘Oh my god,’ I cried, laughing like a madwoman, making no attempt to hide my tears now.
‘I’m gonna be the man who is growing old with you,’ he sang as Naniji, clad in a yellow anarkali, identical to mine, walked in and shyly stood next to Nanaji, in the midst of deafening hooting.
‘Naniji!’ I screamed in delight, as the two of them grinned back at the screaming, shouting, clapping, hollering audience. Nanaji and Naniji, dressed like Purva and me, looking so darn cute with their white hair and gentle smiles that I could just hug them for hours. How much planning had this taken? And how the hell did they convince Naniji to wear an anarkali?
And before I knew it, it was time for the lovely, fun-filled chorus that I had heard at least a gazillion times before. The three men synchronized perfectly. ‘I would walk five hundred miles and I would walk five hundred more. It’s the beat of a man who walks a thousand miles to fall down at your door.’ Purva used both his hands to point at me and again twenty cousins and friends, giggling uncontrollably, tumbled at my feet.
‘Tadalala.’ Forty people took the cue to join in the chorus and surround me in a circle.
‘Tadalalalala. Tadalalallala. Tadalalalla.’
By now, pretty much everyone in the hall was surrounding me, singing the chorus. That was a spectacular moment. About a hundred people, singing together the chorus of a song most had probably never heard of before.
