I went to two concerts by Ravi Shankar. The first was in Belgrade in the late Fifties or early Sixties, and the second in London in mid-Nineties. Over the years, I have had his music on vinyl records, tapes, and compact disks. Right now, there must be at least two compact disks with his music in Motovun. The news of his death thus shook me a bit. Although I was happy that he lived to be ninety-two, I kind of believed he would live forever. Since childhood, he was too much a part of me to ever die, that is. And this is how I would like things to stay, too. Not to worry, though. Ravi Shankar and I are sure to stay together till my last breath. It cannot be otherwise. Even if I heard his music never again, it would forever remain a part of me. There. Screw you, death!

Addendum (November 21, 2016)

Having come across this piece purely by chance, I was surprised to read about the great musician’s death. I immediately checked the date, and realized that it was four years ago. My memory was failing me, I thought at first. But I sprouted a smile by the time I reached the end of the piece. Death, screw you all the way! Remembering my father, I kept smiling. By the time he died, he could barely remember himself. The bliss.