Watching Kishori disappear down the street, Sharada thinks of that terrified woman, alone in the rain, calling out to her beloved. And here’s Kishori taking the rain in her stride while her husband is away in a foreign land. She must miss him acutely, but she is not afraid. Her eyes had laughed at the rain, not streamed with tears. Conventional poetic conceits make it so easy to sing of separation and yearning. The feeling Guruji had put into the words had sent thrills of sensuous pleasure through the audience. Mightn’t I be able to put just as much into the quality of Kishori’s aloneness and her laughter in the face of the rain?

Sharada plays around with lines that could sing of Kishori. There she goes alone, wrapped in clouds, the rain upon her; she laughs at its touch. Why can I not sing that in Malhar? Why should Malhar always be sombre? If there is any possibility of laughter in it, I could explore it with this song. Sharada wonders, have I stumbled upon a way to sing Indira Sant’s ‘Alone’?

The telephone rings. Anjali isn’t coming. Sharada doesn’t ask why. She rushes to the music room, uncovers the tanpura, tunes it and starts singing Malhar. Will the words find themselves in the melody? Can a musical relationship grow between the two? Will they make natural companions? Her struggle to discover the answers through the music itself continues till Janaki arrives for her lesson.

Janaki’s singing is now pure and clear. Her true voice has matured. Although every note still emerges as a discrete, regimented sound, it is without doubt a true note. Janaki feels confidence licking at her heart. She grows careless, lets her attention wander and at once loses two notes. Sharada gives her a sharp look. She shakes her head and repeats them. She’s back in control. She is singing a very simple bandish in Yaman. If she gets the melody right, the beat slips. If she concentrates on the beat, the melody slips. She tries over and over to get both right and finally manages. She smiles happily at her guru, savouring the magic of arriving perfectly on beat at the end of the line. Sharada bursts out laughing at her expression. ‘There are times when you pass the test. When the voice produces exactly what your mind has directed. You’ve arrived at base camp. But if you want to climb higher, there’s only one way. Practise, practise, practise. You have to find the time somehow . . .’

‘Time is not a problem. But the minute I open my mouth, Mrs Khanna frowns.’

‘Change your place. You’ve decided to settle in Mumbai, haven’t you? You have a good job, a good salary. Take a loan. Invest in your own place.’