The Hall at Jawed Wahid’s residence at Prospect Street in Framingham has now become synonymous with quality music from the Subcontinent, be it classical, Carnatic, or Bollywood format of music, presented in a comfortable, cosy baithak layout. Because it offers diverse styles of music in very private surroundings for anyone who is musically inclined, and delivered continually in abundance, I have also given that venue my own name of The Music Fountain.

While driving to the Fountain on October 2nd to attend the program Dard-e-Dil, I must confess that I was somewhat skeptical of what the evening would turn out to be. After all, how many of us have ever spent an entire evening dedicated to sad songs. With the storm and stress of everyday lives that we all go through, one wants to have some nourishment and uplifting for the tired soul. I was therefore rather surprised to see many cars already parked and soon after finding a comfortable place inside for myself, I noticed the many familiar faces in the crowd.

The main artistes of Darde-e-Dil were Meena Sundaram and Mohan Subramaniam, punctuated by selected numbers from Iffat Wahid and Fauzia Sayeed, all local talent. Kumkum Pareek Malik was entrusted with the MC’s role, so we I knew that we were in store for tons of background trivia on the songs. The singers performed on accompanying karaoke music tracks and the program got on its way with Iffat Wahid rendering Bekas pe karam kijiye from Mughal-e-Azam.

Meena and Mohan have struck up a playful rapport, having now performed consistently together for many years and their unwritten musical elaborations are something that their fans have started to look forward to. They switched on to concert mode and the program picked up steam with the pair unleashing the full length of their potent musicality. Starting with the evergreen Lata/Hemant duet Yaad Kiya Dil Ne Kahan Ho Tum from Patita, Mohan followed up with Kaheen Dur Jab Din Dhal Jaye. He is perhaps most on the home ground with Mukesh songs. Meena’s  Hum Pyar Mein Jalne Waalon Ko was full of fluid phrasing and her lustrous tone. Coincidentally, their second duet of the evening was another Shankar-Jaikishan gem Awaaz Deke Humein Tum Bulao from Professor, which was again beautifully delivered. Just for a few fleeting moments, I recalled one of my all time favorite Rafi/Lata duets which happened to be from the same film, the lilting Mein chali mein chali peeche peeche jahan, which of course projects a different sentiment.

Mohan’s Dil Dhal Jaye from Guide was exquisite and sung with a lot of feeling. Meena followed that up with another SD Burman/Shalendra combo Rula Ke Gaya Sapna Mera, in which she immersed herself fully and let the well-recorded track do the rest. I thought Mohan’s delivery of Sahir’s ghazal Kabhi Khud pe Kabhi Halaat Pe Rona Aya was mellow, naturally flowing and affectionately human, for which he was applauded generously. Asha Bhosle’s name was mentioned for the first time that evening in context with Chein Se Humko Kabhi, her swan song with OP Nayyar. This is one of those rare numbers where the singer was expected to uncharacteristically blunt her normal dazzle, than what she normally allowed herself, in order to bring out the emotional reality. I have often wondered what OP Nayyar had to do to produce the sound of silence from his usual vibrant orchestra, which had become his hallmark. Meena did full justice in executing this soulful number as well as Tu Jahan Jahan Chale Ga of Mera Saaya. Not to be sidelined, Mohan came up with Mukesh’s Deewanon Se Yeh Mat Poochho. He then shared the happenings in his personal life with the audience by connecting them with Abhimaan’s duet Tere Mere Milan Ki Ye Raina, the last song before the intermission, in which the audience helped themselves to tea and samosas, after all the music masala from Kumkum’s stage exploits.

To commence the second session, Iffat beautifully delivered, what must undoubtedly go down as one of Asha’s best Yahi Woh Jagah Hai, another great composition of maestro OP Nayyar. Fauzia Sayeed made her brief presence felt strongly in her two songs which followed next. Na Tum Hamay Jano and Ajeeb Dastan Hai Yeh, both Lata megahits of the early 1960s. The rendering of the songs in her silky voice and flowing tempo felt very refreshing, specially after the short break.

Mohan and Meena picked up where they had left, with Jab Deep Jale Aana, the popular duet from Chitchor. O Mere Sanam from Sangam also received immense applause from the appreciative audience. It is said that all good singers are equal, but some singers are more equal than others. This was manifested in Meena’s execution of a very difficult song Rangeeela Re, from Dev Anand’s Prem Pujari, which she sang with immense vitality and feeling. This is not your average sad song and I realized that there was something very potent at work by Meena, a cardiologist by profession. This was the expression of a perpetually unfulfilled promise, composed in a relatively fast beat, a sorrowfully flamboyant song by Lata, sung more in her sister’s style.

Another duet followed. Meena and Mohan sang Woh Jab Yaad Aye, effortlessly and faultlessly. The film Parasmani is remembered today only for the songs of Laxmikant-Pyarelal’s debut film.

The evening was clearly dominated by the 1960s groove. However, Mohan decided to go further down the memory lane with Talat’s 50s hit Zindagi Dene Waley Sun, probably not realizing fully what chords he was about to touch. It took me a few seconds to realize that it was more than just a few voices from the audience who had joined him. I have practically no singing experience but somehow decided to pump up my confidence and joined in the session, which by now had turned into a chorus mode. I was glad that my disjointed voice got camouflaged by this sudden and unexpected expression of the joys of the heartache, singing in chorus, alone and together. I had this feeling of being carried away by an enormous wave, and however tentative the sound may be coming from my throat, it somehow added to the collective act. I reflected on the fact that even the most exalted music-making comes from an accumulation of everyday happenings of life, our related flow of memories and the inseparable human relationships. Other songs included Na Jao Sayyan Churra Ke Bayyan, Ram Kare Aisa Ho Jaye and the closure with RD’s Naam Gum Jayega

On our way home driving Route 9 West to Hudson, I could not help wondering about the unique experience that I had just had. I knew well that if I were to tell somebody that I had attended a full-blown evening dedicated to songs only of sadness and sorrow, the immediate reaction would surely be one to combine surprise with sympathy. However, those who were fortunate to be present at that magical Dard-e-Dil evening, compered so skillfully by Kumkum with her anecdotes, realize fully that joy and sorrow are but an integral part of our lives, going hand-in-hand. Music of sadness touches the inner chords of our heart as much as the notes of happiness and rhythmic beats of a dance. Such are the joys of heartache, in so many ways a therapy in itself.

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