BLOWIN’ MY MIND

O

ne night in 1982, my father came home from one of his foreign trips bearing a really fancy gift. Sparkling silver in colour, it was the same size as Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrug ged – my other gift – and had a leather cover that made it look like something that should be in the library. ‘It’s a two-in-one radio/ cassette player,’ he told us, and all we could exclaim was, ‘Oh my gosh!’

Growing up around that time the only gadgets we knew of were midget-sized fridges, clunky cameras and black-and-white televisions. We had the first two, and our neighbour owned the third. Since nobody in the neighbourhood owned a two-in-one – even the family with the black-and-white television – my brother and I were very proud of our prized possession.

What was more attractive than the glittering gadget that my father got was the collection of audio cassettes he bought with it. Apart from Abba, Queen and Pink Floyd’s latest releases, he got The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan. ‘I’m told this album is supposed to be breaking all records,’ my father explained.

So with high expectations we slid in the cassette in the player for our first hear. And what do we hear? Blowin’ in the Wind. For us kids who believed music had to be loud, with a heavy dose of grind and grunge, the song was more of a lullaby. We were convinced our father was a victim of oversell.

As I read about the efforts of the Datta brothers in trying to preserve the dying folk music of rural India on page 44, I pay my respect to the Big B of folk music who has just won a Nobel Prize for Literature. And has my opinion of his music changed? Let’s say in Mr Dylan’s words, ‘I Saw the Light.’

Until next week,

Mrinal Shekar Deputy Editor mshekar@gulfnews.com