Musings, Music & More

December 31, 1970. That evening in Houston, Texas, was uncharacteristically cold for a southwestern city. Even the weatherman forecast snow! Snow in Houston? US weather forecasts are taken more seriously than those in India because they are expressed as percentages. That way, if the forecast is wrong, they share only part of the blame. My old Impala, my loyal companion in the search for a job during a tough US economy, was parked safely near Mrs Huckabee’s house, as old as she was. Safe? The radio blared, “Get some antifreeze for your car.” The relaxed Houstonians woke from their slumber. Surely, it won’t snow; the chance is only 50%, they reasoned. 

But as someone who has always been particular, I quickly realised the risk to my loyal companion was too great to ignore. Run, Raj, run. Hurry and get some antifreeze, or the radiator might burst by morning, leaving you unable to continue your search for that elusive job. 

As I hurried out, Cathy, Mrs. Huckabe’s daughter with her carefully tanned skin, warned me, ‘Be careful now, Raj; it has begun to snow. You could slip and hurt yourself. Understand?’

I had to leave quickly; would she ever comprehend? A vivid image of myself with the radiator burst open appeared before me, and I hurried out, only to slip on the thin ice already accumulated on the path. 

‘Uh-oh,’ she rushed to help me back to my feet. ‘Hurt?’

“Well,” I had that stupid, embarrassed grin on my face as I was helped back to my feet.

‘What was the rush? Going out for dinner? You could join us for a change.’ With a gentle, motherly smile, Mrs Huckabe nodded in agreement.

‘It’s the damned antifreeze for my car, oh my car!’ I said, gesturing towards the car, unaware of the impending disaster. 

“Oh, it won’t hurt her, Raj. Here, I can help with some leftover antifreeze.” To me, she seemed like Mother Mary, just as the Beatles sang, “Mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom, let it be, let it be.”

How nice to have a landlord like Mrs Huckabe and her charming daughter!

‘Mama, could you pour some into the radiator of my little car?’ Dougy, the toddler, asked eagerly, holding out his toy car. Cathy paused, unsure how to respond to her curious little one. 

Ignoring her dilemma, I took the can of antifreeze, approached my car carefully, lest I slip, popped the hood, and poured the coolant into the radiator. Now I can safely look forward to driving the Impala once more in search of castaways. 

‘Mother Mary, or the Goddess of destiny, please help me get that job soon. I was down to my last $100. The car radio kept playing ads for new albums by my favourite pop artists like ‘The Bee Gees,’ ‘Andy Williams,’ and the ‘Carpenters,’ which were so adorable. I decided to buy a few of them as soon as I received my first paycheck.’

Episode 2 :

December 31, 1970, the last day of the year, did not bode well for music. The Beatles officially and legally broke up. How could they? What would happen now? Did Mother May know? Did Maa Saraswati know? But I knew what I had to do. I had the tape recorder; I had my little bitty transistor radio! The annual hit parade of popular songs for 1970 would be on the air that night. Get ready, Raj, to record the year’s most popular song. It had to be ‘Close to You’ by the Carpenters.

Casey Kasem, the Amin Sayani of America, would be on the radio, playing the top 40 songs of 1970. The grim economic outlook in the USA meant that my job was still far away, so I had to record my favourite song tonight.

I spent the whole day checking and re-checking the primitive recording system I had, lest anything go wrong at the wrong moment. Mother Mary, please help me today.

There were many radio stations in Houston; their names always began with K…, and they vied furiously for listeners’ attention. I had a fascination with one such station, KNUZ. Apart from the songs they played that I loved, it had a novel way of keeping listeners engaged. 

Every hour, the DJ would announce a simple word. For the next hour, the DJ would call up anyone at random and ask, ‘What is the word for the hour?’ If the person were a loyal KNUZ fan, he would know the word and win a windfall of $1000. Cool!

As the day wore on, I was glued to KNUZ and subconsciously memorised every word announced. Would the DJ call me on my landlady’s common telephone? My landlady had, though, thoughtfully given me an extension in my room so I could call potential employers. Who knows? I could win the prize for loyalty. But my priority was to record that Carpenter song I was sure would come on top at the stroke of midnight. 

I had a quick dinner and set up the recorder for the last time. I was a bit apprehensive that little Doug might knock on my door at the wrong moment and interrupt the recording. My dear Dougy, not tonight, please; go to bed early, you adorable baby!

At 11 sharp, I readied myself, all set and ready to go. The songs began one by one. Here we go, I said to myself. As anxious as a young boy on a Friday night, wondering whether to call his date. The tension was palpable. The chance that the DJ would call me up was slim. But who knows? Get set, Raj, and record your favourite song tonight. No one had called till then.

11:50 PM! The DJ was ready to air the top song of the year. Yes, I had predicted the top song, right on the money. The sweet voice of Karen Carpenter filled the room with ‘Close to You…’ My recording played well. Midway through the song, the phone extension in my room rang. I missed a heartbeat. Was this that call? Leave the recording and pick up the phone. It could be that DJ, or it could be a call for the landlady or her daughter.

My song was my life, and I better not put the transistor radio down to reach for the phone. Raj, follow your instinct and let it be, let it be. By the time the song ended, the ringing had stopped. My tape recorder had recorded the rings as well, but that’s ok.

I got up and started checking the recording, smiling to myself.

A knock on the door!

‘Come on in,’ I yelled, hoping to spot the little devil.

‘Hey, Raj, you know what happened? Cathy waltzed in, excited, holding her thick glasses in place.’

‘Yes!’

‘There was this guy from a radio station, KNUZ, who asked me, ‘What is the word this hour? Crazy to call someone at this hour!’’

I froze. My God, I knew the word: ‘Honesty’. That was the call I had been waiting for. Someday, I would win that $1000 prize. This was the night I would have won a grand if only I had picked up the phone and answered. I took a deep breath, threw up my arms, looked at Cathy, and exclaimed, ‘Crazy? Sure!’

She shut the door as she left my room, and my destiny stared me in the face: ‘Dude, you just lost $1000’ – all because of your love for music.