If music is that binds a family

Every evening, when the house would become agog with activities,
after the lull of the afternoon,
when uncles and father would return home,
Grandpa would switch on his turntable
And put LPs upon it,

Usually it would be a Bismillah Khan
Or Bade Ghulam Ali,
We had then also returned home from outdoors,

Mother and aunt would blow the counch shells
And put incense sticks at the tulshi mancha,

Grandpa would recline on his favourite armchair
And take puffs from his hookah,
His eyes would remain closed,
He would then be dipping into music,

And the house too would turn musical,
Aunt would be humming a tune while chopping vegetables at the kitchen,
Uncle would be reciting a poem to us
From our textbooks, teaching us the nuances of poetic diction,
And we would sometimes break out singing in chorus,
Our rhymes and verses,

At the backdrop, the vinyl LPs would turn on the table, giving a curious blessedness to all of us.

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