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Showing posts from January, 2017

A paint brush, a guitar, And a cricket bat is also an artiste’s weapon

These are not the hiss-and-crackle days of the past. Yet, radio seems to be my prized possession and this radio still excites me as it had done during the past to give us boys the ticket to BBC. How thrilled we were to listen to doyens like John Arlott then, his sing song narrative evoking untamed cricket emotions. Now, radio fits in with my scheme of things to tune into old melodies. This song that had a fragrant start has held me captive on several occasions. The honey-drenched voice of the male singer kept me glued to the radio set with the inspirational orchestration doing its bit to make it an aural treat. The string master had unleashed another of his gem, with his signature intact with the strumming of guitar in a song that was otherwise divinely classical. To prove a point, there was also this counterpoint bringing guitar and flute into play. It dawned on me that the magical touch to the song soaked in classical tune was infused by the strumming of the guitar. Come to thi...