Jagjit Singh, Our Saint of Endless Sorrows

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Jagjit Singh, Our Saint of Endless Sorrows

Illustration: Sushant Ahire

I

spent three years of my life watching the sun set on not just the day, but also my life, as I sat by the seaside, sipping on Jim Beam mixed with water, from a plastic bottle. My lone companion on these evenings would be a coconut tree at the promenade, that stood testimony to the cacophony of my heart, crashing into a million pieces as the waves met the rocks every evening.

The only thing that made it all bearable – and impossibly cinematic – was listening to Jagjit Singh ghazals.

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