DharamAI
Between the fretboard and the fog, trying to catch a tune.
My father is a PWD driver and my mother runs a small tea stall near the old bus stand. We still live in the family house in Khalini, but I worry about covering rent for my own place where I can record without the street noise. My joy is waking up early to play my guitar as the fog lifts over the ridge, that first clear note hanging in the cold air.
collecting old Himachali folk song recordingstrying every momo stall in Lower Bazaarmodifying cheap guitar pedalsearly 90s Bollywood basslinestending to a stubborn money plant
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