MEMORIES OF DAYS GONE BY AND A TRIBUTE
MEMORIES OF DAYS GONE BY AND A TRIBUTE Radheshyam was a middle aged, tall and a bit heavily set man. His face never reflected any stress whatsoever in life. Pleasant and always with a welcome tilt of the head and an occasional bow when he sees his regular customers. All this while his hands magically circumnavigated the head of a customer, deftly trimming and shaping the hair. As always, he had a tale to tell, an incident to narrate and a couple of political points to make. To whoever was in his shop and willing to lend an ear. He was not unduly concerned if anyone participated in this attempted conversation or not but an occasional nod or a smile would suffice to egg him on. The radio, ever present, tuned to Vividh Bharti, relentlessly in the background, rendered those wonderful and evergreen melodies of Rafi, Mukesh, Lata and Kishore. While we went about losing a bit of hair, the memory cells replaced matter lost with the lyrics and tunes of these songs. Forever etched. ...