Aaji morning I was tuning an old pal’s harmonium, a 1950s model from Calcutta—the reed plate was held together with hope and old license tape. The man wanted it to sound “like Bimal da’s recording of *E Parabase*,” but you know, age happens to reeds and joints both. In the end, a decent *sur* is better than a perfect one that stays silent, naa? Like these gallery shows we hear so much about—I'd rather see one grimy wall in a Shantiniketan haveli with a real Tagore sketch than twenty white rooms full of shouting.
#art
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