The Unforgotten Lullaby

Those were the days of cassettes and tape recorders. I loved listening to songs, especially the ones by AR Rahman and Ilayaraja. It was when I didn't even understand the lyrics. That did not stop me from signing my versions. Then CDs came first followed by pen drives and memory cards. Technology advanced into iPods and music apps. We could download almost any song from the internet. Boasting a vast collection of instrumental music became a matter of pride.

The FM radio had ups and downs; some RJ’s loved more than others. But a common problem persisted- the advertisements that would play right in the middle of a song. World Space, the satellite radio with over 40 channels worldwide, came to in the year 2000 (India). It came with a set-top box, a mini dish-like antenna, and a remote.

Life was heaven again. I no longer asked my father to sing lullabies for me. Of course, I was into my teens by then. The radio played all day in the background as we went about with our work. Mom had her favorite channel, dad his and I mine.

The morning began with Carnatic or Hindustani and ended with old classical Hindi songs or Western Classical (if I had my way). We ended up with two World Space devices (one mine, other dad's) when they mailed about closing the radio station. I was sure it was a hoax. Alas, one not-so-fine morning, the music stopped. Dad and I refused to throw away the units. We contacted the people who worked with the company. They said it might be available online as an app. It did; though the result was unsatisfactory.

I got a replacement in a portable music system (nothing fancy) with two small speakers. It stands on my desk along with three sheets of songs listed in chronological order. I am one of those people who need music to study, to write, to draw, to cook, to eat, and to sleep (you get my point). Though I tend to listen to the same old songs (read favorites), I do try and keep track of the latest numbers. But when I fail to sing a two-month-old song that topped the music charts, it does show the declining quality of lyrics. (I am one of those people who remember song lyrics even during examinations and viva.)

Now in my twenties, I miss my father’s lullabies. He sings, but not when I ask him to. I remember how mom would rock me to sleep as dad sang a song he learned from his mother, who in turn learned from hers. Yeah, it’s more of a family song. One day in the future, I’ll be singing it for my kids.

I don’t think it’s available on the internet, though a few relatives are trying to find the source of the song. It goes something like this one.

Govinda ram ram, govinda hari hari (3)

Radhe govinda krishna, radhe gopala Krishna,

Govinda ram ram, govinda hari hari (2)

Palukanela palukavo, panchadara chilakavo,

Govinda ram ram, govinda hari hari (2)

I am going to ask my dad to sing it for me and record it. This song always soothed me to sleep when I was cranky, grumpy, and irritated. No matter how many favorites I have in music, this song will always be special. 

The image is taken from Dreamstime.com