It’s December. Many years ago. My best friend insists that when we play this song, cool breeze fills up our car. Over the years, I have learnt not to question her judgement. She is my navigator, co-pilot, and my DJ. And she fulfils these roles, impeccably. These were the days when Google Maps wasn’t as smart as it is now. We would get lost. And we didn’t care about being lost. Since we didn’t care where we wanted to be, we didn’t care where we were. We didn’t know it then, but perhaps, we liked being lost.
We cared much about the music that played as we drove around aimlessly. The village roads were potholed. And as we climbed and descended these unknown roads, cool breeze danced, for a while in our car. Red mud. She insisted, it was because of this song. Cashew trees. So we experimented, driving back, forth, around, and along those roads. Any other song and the breeze paused. This song, and breeze flowed.
It’s a love song, so it made sense that it played when just the two of us were alone with the trees and the hilly road. I could afford to look at her, because there was no traffic, nor a single soul. It’s not a song that I love for the song that it is. I loved the song because she loved it. I loved the song for the experience of driving while she sat along. She is looking at the valley to her side. I love watching her seeing away.
She isn’t humming along with the song. She is looking at the valley, as we climb the inclining road. But I know it’s playing in her head. That day. I am happy. Whatever her imagination, I know I am a part of it.
There isn’t a happy driver like me, when she is with me.
For my non-Hindi audience, here’s the translation of the song. And for whatever reason, if you cannot see this YouTube in your country, search for ‘Zara Zara, RHTDM’.