“रंगो से दोस्ती है मैंने भी करी
क्या है तु सोचती, मुझको भी तो बता I”
2018 was a bumpy year. I (finally) turned into an adult (and now approaching quarter-life crisis is hitting
me four times a day), I started college, got my heart broken but I’m still breathing, life threw me into a
pit of depression, and oh, I started listening to Prateek Kuhad. And I distinctly remember the first day.
It was a sultry June afternoon and college hadn’t started full-fledged then. I had skipped classes to watch
this new movie, Lust Stories, because I let my friends convince me into doing so. Twenty minutes into
the movie, Radhika Apte was having a fight with her student and she revealed that she is married and
walks off, leaving behind an extremely confused student and Kuhad’s faint voice (singing the beginning
couplet) in the background.
When you are a movie-buff, you usually do not pause till the film is over. But I distinctly remember
pausing the movie to search up the name of this particular song and singer. There was something so
simply elegant and soothing about his voice that it kept reverberating long after the song had ended.
That was how I was introduced to Prateek Kuhad, and I haven’t regretted it for any second.
Winter started to sweep in silently, when he released ‘cold/mess’. There is a particular three second
pause between two stanzas that I listen to carefully, where the sound of a train on its tracks is heard, at
a regular beat. And that wrenched my heart. That was how life goes on, with or without your want. This
particular song affected young adults and teenagers the most (who incidentally form majority of his
crowd) as they were the fictional characters of the video. Some had just ended a relationship, while
some were begging the partner to stay. Kuhad has the quality to touch exactly where it’s felt.
But what will happen ten years from today? Love has been a universal topic for songs and movies and
poems and novels and it always will be because it demonstrates utopia. And people yearn for utopia the
most; the more they yearn for it, the more it slips away from their grasps. People might outgrow singers
like Prateek Kuhad and Gregory Alan Isakov, because perhaps they are not as prominent or worthy of
remembering, as Michael Jackson, Celin Dione and Freddie Mercury. Comparatively speaking, people
might forget Arijit Singh after a few decades, but they won’t forget Kishore Kumar. And that’s what is
Musicians like Kuhad have a career of the span of a burning match, or that of a comet that appears in
the night sky just for a moment. But even then they have been successful in engraving themselves in
hearts of a few hundred thousands, even if it is just for a temporary span.
Because nothing beautiful lasts forever.