From the Archives
This reflection was originally shared as a Facebook Note on/around 19 May 2010, and was last edited on 6 May 2021. It has been lightly refined and republished here for clarity and readability, while preserving the original thought, feeling, and intent.
It was in 1989, when we returned from Mumbai after spending a year there for our second year of DMET — Marine Engineering training.
While I was in Mumbai, I had heard that my sister had bought a guitar. Only she could have managed such a feat at home. Daddy was the kind of person who would not always say it directly, but you knew what he wanted: “Focus on your studies.”
We were staying at BNR in Kolkata — Calcutta in those days — and my sister had engaged a guitar tutor. He later became my guitar idol during that period of my life.
His name was Munna.
Munna was my first guitar tutor, and in many ways, he opened the door through which music entered my life more seriously.
He was a building construction labourer by profession, but he could play the guitar with amazing ease. He used to play for an orchestra and seemed to know the latest interludes, opening notes, and chords of almost any Hindi song I could name.
I knew he could not even afford to buy himself a good guitar in those days. Yet the way he played, the way he understood film music, and the way he made the guitar speak, left a deep impression on me.
Sandhya playing the Jal Tarang — a family archive photograph from school days, retained here as part of the original memory.
I do not know where Munna is today, but my sincere wishes go out to that wonderful guitarist and very good human being.
He taught me the basics of Hindi music chords, and even today I can attribute some of the interlude pieces I play to his training. He never charged me a single rupee as a fee. I still feel a strong urge to look for him whenever I think of visiting Kolkata.
I can still remember him sitting inside the corner of a small shop operated by his elder brother. If I remember correctly, his brother used to sell tobacco and other general items. Munna would sit there and play his orchestra electric guitar, producing clean notes even without a speaker.
There was something special about our relationship.
Looking back, I realise that much of my motivation to play the guitar in those days came from this wonderful person. I used to look forward to returning from DMET on weekends just to spend an hour with him.
Fortunately, he always made time for me. Whenever I called him, he would come.
May God bless him.
Some people touch our lives quietly and become part of our memories forever.
I am sure you too can think of a few such people in your own life — and smile.