floating high above. He heard raga Basant. Below, through a molten yellow haze, he could see a young boy with a small sitar sitting between a woman with big silver anklets on her feet and a man with long, curly locks, holding a baby on his lap. He ran across the triangular courtyard of the house into the garden at the back. He heard someone lovingly say, Miyan, one day you will be great . . . He saw raga Bhairavi floating towards him, in blue and gold, and he heard soft, tinkling laughter. Suddenly, the scale changed. The music grew louder and more thunderously beautiful and finally became
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