Songs sung true

Anushree Majumdar croons for dinner at a Delhi nightspot and wins a few fans

What would you do, if I sang out of tune? Would you stand up and walk out on me?
I8217;d been biting my nails and Joe Cocker8217;s voice was not leaving my head. There are times when you are alone with everybody, you sit in a crowd but you can only see them, not hear them. This was one of those times. At the Turquoise Cottage, 9 pm, and I was gearing myself to get up and sing with the Brothers Fernandes. They perform at TC three nights a week and have established themselves as one of Delhi8217;s popular dinner bands.

I chose a bad day for this adventure. The underground pub was hosting a noisy party for a popular music channel. As I waited and bit into a cuticle, I watched a lot of 8220;cool8221; people walk in and out of the pub. Much to my despair, I actually knew some of them. If they caught me singing with the dinner band upstairs, I would never be able to live it down. Never.

Thursday night. The average Delhiite steps into TC, orders his/her drink and is soon joined by a few friends. The place is packed, I break into a sweat. Winston looks at me and smiles.

A line about the brothers. Winston is the younger Fernandes, plays the keyboard and smiles a lot. His brother Wellesley plays lead guitar and does justice to Santana8217;s Black Magic Woman. In the afternoon, we had a lively rehearsal no, I didn8217;t 8220;jam8221; with them and chose a few songs that would be easy on the ears, even if I went off-key. 8220;We cool?8221; asks Winston, post practice. 8220;Yep8221;, I say.

Hardly. Four hours later, I8217;m pleading with Tashi, our photographer, to switch jobs; I8217;m promising the earth and he smiles Buddha-like. The material world does not concern him; he is intently waiting to capture me in high-resolution making an utter fool of myself. I8217;m running out of time. Tashi cruelly whispers into my ears, 8220;Go. End it now.8221;

I get up a bit like a zombie. The crowd turns to look and somebody lets out a loud whoop. I8217;m trying to calm myself down, remembering inspirational lines from Ben Hur to Spider-Man. I turn around. They8217;re looking at me like I came from Saturn with a ring stuck to my head. I introduced myself and told my eager audience that I was 8220;unable to take requests tonight.8221; Some laughed, I relaxed. Winston played the opening bars of Love will keep us alive by The Eagles. I sang, a little under my breath, till I saw a cute looking chap give me the thumbs up. My voice rose, I gained confidence and smiled like an idiot. At the end of the song, the diners cheered and applauded. I didn8217;t want to lose any fans so I launched into Hero by Mariah Carey, a song I can actually sing. The cute guy looked super-impressed. My heart skipped a beat and right then, Wellesley struck the wrong chord on his guitar. Cute guy frowned; I stopped singing and said 8220;goof-up8221; into the microphone. The crowd looked at me for a second and laughed. The day was saved.

We end with 8220;Tears in Heaven8221;. I regret the choice of song. Too slow and doesn8217;t go well with crispy chilli potatoes. I thanked them all from the bottom of my heart and made my way to an empty chair.

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I8217;m never going to be a star, at least not with all the adipose. But it felt great when some people came up to say that I should sing professionally. Better still when the cute guy said 8220;Good show! Lovely voice!8221; and when the management gave me dinner on the house.

At the end of it all, I must say it was quite an experience. But it is not advisable for sensitive souls and the faint-hearted. You need to be gutsy and a little stupid: two qualities that I guess I possess in sufficient measure.