‘I grieved for him 10 years after his murder, found closure to unsolved case’: Pune musician on life after father’s death

The memory remains hazy for Vineet: the police coming in and out, questions asked, answers noted. “My parents had been separated for over a decade, not divorced, just living apart by mutual choice. In 2008, that was still rare enough to raise eyebrows and created a horrible prejudice. The police questioned my mother, me, and even my younger brother, who was barely out of college.”

“For some time, I thought we would carry the invisible stain of suspicion. But it passed quickly. Everyone who knew my father told the same story—we were all on amicable terms and he was a simple man with an uncomplicated life, living alone, devoted to his music store. The file stayed open, but the heat moved away from us.”

Father-son bond

Seventeen years later, the case remains unsolved. Yet that has not been Vineet’s main challenge. The real challenge was the grieving—or rather the lack of it.

“My father and I were not very close in the traditional sense. Our bond was typical of upper-class Maharashtrian families, curt on the surface but deep in care,” he says. The murder’s brutality left no space for traditional mourning. “So, grieving as people call it, didn’t quite happen immediately,” adds Vineet.

The aftermath brought practical burdens for the elder son. Life demanded action: settling a lingering bank loan against the shop and managing a vast stock of cassettes and CDs as MP3s eclipsed physical media. His younger brother, Varun, was on the cusp of IIT admission and early career; Vineet insisted he continue uninterrupted.

Their mother kept the iconic Alurkar Music House open for a year, clearing inventory amid dipping sales as digital streaming loomed. Icons like Planet M closed sooner; the writing was on the wall.

Suresh Alurkar’s legacy

Yet Suresh Alurkar’s true legacy transcended commerce. Founded in 1979, Alurkar Music House was a haven for Hindustani and Marathi classical music—vocal and instrumental. Suresh, less a businessman than a passionate producer-artist with impeccable taste in music, released nearly 500 cassettes and CDs.

He gave breakthroughs to talents like Malini Rajurkar and Sanjeev Abhyankar; early albums by Pandit Jasraj also came from there. Legends like Pt. Bhimsen Joshi and Hridaynath Mangeshkar frequented their home during Vineet’s childhood. Suresh’s curation was legendary—he selected recordings for excellence, not profit, often funding uncommercial gems out of love for the art.

Vineet grew up immersed in this world and absorbed his father’s passion. Life continued. He married in 2009, had a daughter, and built a career in Western music—gaining recognition in Pune as a composer, singer, and educator. He is now preparing to release India’s first rock band memoir.

Yet closure eluded him. When it arrived 10 years later, it came unexpectedly.

Digitising music catalogue

Suresh, ever forward-thinking, had digitised the entire catalogue onto hard drives before his death. Varun, returning from the US, organised the files with Vineet. Together, the brothers launched the Alurkar Music House YouTube channel. Vineet handled uploads, listening deeply to recordings he had witnessed as a child.

Stories resurfaced: Suresh cleaning demo tapes for a flop film’s soundtrack that became a cult classic via Doordarshan word-of-mouth; refusing lucrative deals to preserve artistic integrity; holding a near-monopoly on Sawai Gandharva tapes; producing the world’s first accredited audiobook of Pu La Deshpande’s works.

As Vineet uploaded track after track—the warm analogue sounds superior to many commercial releases—“the music breathed life into my father’s presence. It wasn’t conventional grieving; instead, it was a profound reconnection, a sense that he lived on through these treasures he had given his life to.” The channel grew to over 140,000 subscribers, drawing messages from fans sharing personal stories, requesting lyrics, and reminiscing about attended releases.

“This digital revival became my way of coping. I composed songs inspired by the archives, performed at festivals, and found pride in continuing the tradition. The unsolved murder—a likely land-related extortion gone wrong—faded into distant disbelief, no longer worth obsessing over.

There was a strange reconnect I felt with him—and finally I understood him, more than I ever had,” says Vineet, his voice laden with emotion. Closure came not from justice, but from legacy, now laced with love and a musical tribute far deeper and more enduring.