Lata is gone.

But what does it mean?

Her songs, the universe she weaved through them, is still here, isn’t it? It is not going anywhere. Her songs are available to us to listen to them, whenever we wish. They will have the same sur, intensity, precision, magic, music, and nostalgia they always had.

It is not about her 'new' songs either. She had stopped singing for almost two decades now. So, it is not that we were going to miss 'new' songs sung by her.

It is also not about any personal connections. We were not acquainted with each other. We never worked together on any project.

So, what does 'gone' mean?

Why should the news of her passing make me speechless, vacant, barren, desolate?

How long was her withered body supposed to hold on? Does Vasaansee jeerNaane  not apply to her?

Or is it that her death only reminds me of my own mortality, just as the death of anyone else would?

Is that all?

***********************************************************

Me and my cousin started listening to the old Hindi film songs when we were in the 9th grade in school. We used to go to all known 'collectors', requesting, borrowing, pleading, begging, and whenever we had a little pocket money, buying, the songs. We used to listen for hours on end, at times listening even for ten - twelve hours at a stretch.  We came to know many new singers, composers, lyricists, in this journey. But she was not among those 'finds', for she was there from the beginning.

She was always there.

It is said that no Hindu ever reads Ramayana or Mahabharat 'for the first time'. The plot, the characters, the main events are already known to us before we ever pick them up in a form of a book. The same is true of Lata's voice. It is already known to us before we ever receive it in the form of a record, a tape, a CD or a file.

She just is.

We did find, however, through these efforts, so many of her rare gems…. Ghulam Haider's 'bedard tere dard ko seene se laga ke', K Dutta's 'bedard zamane se shikwa na shikayat hai', Sardar Malik's 'hui ye ham se nadani teri mehfil mein aa baithe', Pt Amarnath's 'jogiya se preet kiye dukh hoye', Vinod's 'meri ulfat soyi hai yahan'... and countless more. We were listening like there was no tomorrow.

She already was present.

Her presence became deeper - and deeper still.

******************************************************************

We discovered a string of illustrious composers  - Anil-da, C Ramchandra, Roshan, Shyamsundar, Sajjad, Husnalal Bhagatram, Ghulam Mohammad, Madan Mohan, Hemant Kumar, Jaidev, Chitragupta, Sudhir Phadke, Khayyam, S N Tripathi, Naushad, SD Burman, Shankar Jaikishan, and many more. 'She' was always present with all of them. The ultimate muse. The sole object of the infatuation and inspiration, for the geniuses of the giants. The non-duality that could not exist without the ‘other’. 

We had almost taken her for granted. It was only after listening to the actress-singers of the pre-playback era that we realized how incredibly melodious and precise Lata was. Well, to be honest, we had no knowledge of her mastery over the grammar of music. All we realized was that she was different, and the song was not the same without her.

Her presence became even deeper.

So much so that she has now become a part of our very being. We are not even aware of her distinct existence anymore. Just as the blood contains the Red and White Blood Cells, there is a little bit of 'Lata' too in our blood. Do we ever think consciously about the existence of red and white blood cells? Why then should we think of her distinct existence?

*******************************************************

Once upon a time she had come to Pune, probably during the centenary celebrations of Shrimant Dagadusheth Halwai Ganeshotsav. She had come for some other function, but at the insistence of the crowd, she agreed to sing Jnanadev's Pasayadaan. I was sitting right in front of the stage, in order to take pictures, with a camera in my hands. I had saved money to buy a roll of film and had saved the last 4-5 shots for her. I was ready. But when she started singing, I found myself simply staring at her, with my eyes wide open. There must be tears in my eyes - certainly tears – but I could not even see them because of the film-reel that was playing over them. Barsat - Andaz - Mahal - Albela - Anarkali – Nagin - Shin Shinaki Boobla Boo – Sargam – Anokha Pyar – Tarana – Aaram – Awara - the whole series was appearing on that screen. It was incredulous! This very woman, sitting barely ten feet away from me, had sung all those songs... and there she was… right there… before me...

Kimbahuna sarvasukhee; PoorN hovunee tinhee lokee.......

Pasayadaan was almost over. I came to my senses and took a few snaps. The film I had just seen had engraved on my mind, the picture of who she was for me. The photographs were now a mere formality.

***********************************************

How many such memories, how many occasions, how many times have her songs redoubled my joys, intensified my celebrations, consoled me, strengthened me, supported me, healed me? And all this without ever making her separate existence felt. Like the Spring that makes every tree blossom without ever making itself visible. We know of its arrival only from its effects. Like the cells in our blood just are - she just is.  

Is - was - always will be.

*************************************************

Will be? Always?

But she isn't there today, is she? I never thought this would ever happen. This equation never entered the realm of possibility. What if some ingredient of our blood, some part of our being, suddenly vanishes? Who will ever conceive of such eventuality?      

But this is what has happened because she is gone.

This is how her passing has made me aware of my own mortality. Not in a Socratic generality of 'all humans are mortal, I am human, hence, I am also going to die one day'; but with an intensely personal realization that a part of me has also died with her today. 

But once out of the immediate aftermath of that event, it was evident quickly that she still is here. She is here through her music. She is here through the elements of those songs that are now integral to my being. She still is, and will be, at least till the generation, for whom she is a part of their blood, of their very existence, survives.

So, what died today, on the sixth of February, was not her.

It was her death that died.

She is still around.