The morning tune sang its journey A sound reverberated in the garden As Amma picked flowers in a melody. Appaiya chanted verses of aigiri Nandini Inviting Durga parmeshwari to slay Mahishasura from our minds praying for Annapoorna to seek solace in our kitchen. Thus, dawns the cleansing of Agam. This morning it rained like it would drown everyone. Every chirp in the words hushed to safety Every roar of the wild yelled helpless. Every time it thundered again, We feared the end But The sound of appaiya's flute soothed demons lurking. Cause as Amma said always. Appaiya doesn't sing and play for us. Neither for me, nor for you. He sings for the helpless And in his melody,even the lonely sleep peacefully That evening, ajjama died due to fever. And the whole house mourned her loss. The children cried,the women hushed a sigh of relief Appaiya's brothers quarelled on matters of property,money and gold. But appaiya was non chalant to the beat of pain. He stood in the verandah and played the flute like never before. In his first time,in three decades he played for us. He played for our vain. Even the rain god's cried with him. That day our soul was full to the brim and a disaster lurked on the cards He sang Rangapura Vihara and saved our misery.. A symphony of a lifetime,he sang with tears At the end of the song and the night,a new beginning awaited. But appaiya was never the same. That day onwards he never played, neither for us nor the helpless. That day onwards and twenty years later. I still wait in the verandah to hear him sing. Nothing comes back. Niether him,Nor Rangapura Vihara.