K. Srinivas Patnaik

Tag: Balda

  • Before My Glass of Coke Became Empty

    From the Archives

    This reflection was originally published on 3 April 2010 as a Facebook Note 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, humour, and intent.

    It was during the final year of DMET, when I had just started learning to play the guitar.

    I am not sure how I sounded in those days, but this bunch of batchmates made me feel like a professional musician. They treated me like a celebrity and made sure I was always taken care of.

    In fact, I used to get stuffed with Coke because someone in the group would somehow notice that Patti’s glass was getting empty.

    And before my glass of Coke became empty, it would get filled up again.

    Come on guys, I miss you all.

    Tutu, Balda, Vohra, Deepak, Shivi, Sunil, Pandey, Gohil, DK — they were my early and only audience. What a wonderful lot of admirers they were.

    They probably never heard what I was actually playing, because they were too busy getting intoxicated. I, on the other hand, was an excessive passive smoker in those days, staying around these guys while they smoked, laughed, sang, and enjoyed themselves.

    Somehow, I loved being with them.

    I kept playing whatever few notes or chords I knew.

    Tutu was a wonder kid when it came to tunes. He could pick up the right notes and immediately catch you if you went off track.

    I remember him playing bass with us in the band. He fretted it out, picked up the notes, and figured out the trick to play the prelude piece of Saagar Kinaare. I still play it almost the same way even today.

    Later, I struggled and picked up the prelude for Pal Pal Dil Ke Paas.

    I used to play for these guys till the early hours of the morning. For me, it was also a challenge to play in dim light without looking at the guitar’s fretboard.

    It had been only about six months since I had seriously started playing, and I was fascinated whenever I saw guitarists play without even looking at the instrument.

    The band group of my seniors was a treat to watch. Bernard was a genius. He is now in Miami with Aalborg, if I remember correctly.

    Those were the days when these guys would fill up my glass of Coke and request me to continue strumming notes for them.

    At times, they even used to bring along extra stock. I realised that only later.

    But I enjoyed every moment of playing the guitar for this amazing bunch of friends.

    Tutu used to ask me several times:

    “Abe, daaru peeta nahin, phir itna der bajata kaise hai?”

    I do not have the answer to this day.

    Final year DMET memories from 1990 — on a boat in the Sunderbans Delta, with guitar, songs, and batchmates.

    In 2010, I had written that I wanted to make a new composition for the 1990 batch.

    The last one I had composed in memory of late P.D. — such a wonderful person he was — was called How I Wish You Were Here. The lyrics were written by Vohra.

    I composed it using a simple chord progression that I had learnt from Amit Dutta of Shiva fame.

    Some memories remain alive not because they were grand, but because they were shared with the right people.

    A guitar. A dimly lit room. A glass of Coke. A few friends. A few songs.

    And a feeling that still remains.

    Say cheese and keep smiling.

    Srinivas
    Patti, for all of them

  • Baby Elephant Walk — Bunking the CPT Workshop

    From the Archives

    This reflection was originally published on 10 April 2010 as a Facebook Note and was last edited on 14 March 2021. It has been lightly refined and republished here for clarity and readability, while preserving the original thought, feeling, humour, and intent.

    We used to attend workshops as part of our training at DMET. This happened during the second and third years of our training period.

    Each cadet was assigned to a shore workshop. In Kolkata, some of us were assigned to places like CPT, GRSE, and others. I do not remember much about the other workshops, but since I was assigned to CPT, a few memories still remain.

    This was probably sometime in the middle of 1989, when I was in the third year.

    I cannot recollect all the facts clearly, but somehow one day it was me, Tutu, and Balda at my place. Of course, we used to land up there when Dad was at office. Otherwise, I would have had to do a bit of explaining.

    Mom was cool about it. She was happy to have her son around — almost a “to hell with whatever he is doing” kind of affection. She knew most of the bunch from the first year itself, when friends like Sharat would come home on Sundays and crash on the swimming chairs lying around the house.

    It was one of those days when there was a guitar at home, thanks to my sister. That is another story for another day.

    Tutu knew how to pluck some notes, and so did Balda. In fact, Balda had my guitar with him for some time — the maroon one. He had made it look quite jazzy by pasting stickers all over it.

    I remember he used to play the tune of Neele Neele Ambar Par very nicely.

    My early inspiration towards the guitar was generated by these two friends.

    One day, we were sitting at my house, and Tutu and Balda were struggling with the notes of Baby Elephant Walk.

    What a wonderful tune it is. I cherish it to this day.

    I am sure many of us have heard it several times, especially if we have ever visited a circus. It is the kind of tune that would be played by the circus band when the elephants walked in.

    I watched them trying to play the notes, moving across the top three strings of the guitar.

    Both of them taught me the notes.

    Somewhere inside, I made a quiet vow to myself: one day, I would surprise them by playing the tune in the dark during load-shedding at the hostel.

    So I practised.

    I practised with closed eyes. I hurt my fingers. I struggled. But I persisted.

    Finally, I managed to get the tune flowing through my fingers.

    Even while refurbishing this note, I paused for a moment and played the tune again. Yes — the same practised flow still works.

    It is amazing how some things we learn in our younger years get imprinted so deeply into our system.

    When I had first started learning it, I was somehow very sure that I would be able to play the tune. I do not know why I had that confidence. Looking back now, I feel that perhaps the positive thought itself was the reason I could play what felt like a difficult tune at that stage — especially when I had only touched the guitar a few times in my life.

    Positive thoughts reinforce an energy inside us. It may be invisible, but it can make us attempt things that otherwise seem impossible.

    If you want to learn to play the guitar — or any other instrument — just buy one and explore.

    I am having my share of fun.

    I sincerely hope you do too.

    With my first electric guitar, gifted by Sandhya, performing at a company annual dinner.

    Cheers,
    Patti
    Srini, for some