It was an Indian Airlines flight from Madras (now Chennai) to Calcutta (Kolkata). The plane in full had a copybook take off. The smiling flight attendants were doing their job with utmost care. A young man in the front row was flicking through the pages of Filmfare magazine; the girl in the window seat was hooked to Femina. A sixty plus lean and thin gentleman with grey hair took a copy of The Daily Hindu from the airhostess, while a pot-bellied man first stretched out his arms and then lighted a cigarette (it was the time when smoking was allowed in the aircraft). Suddenly a jolt sent tremors to all. In seconds, the plane swung to the left and then a nasty drop in altitude followed. The next twenty-five minutes were bizarre with hue and cry all over; the plane was caught in a storm.

But up there, in one of the aisle seats was a man oblivious to all these except for the occasional effort to reposition himself due to the bumps and sudden turns of the aircraft His forefinger almost continuously tapped the armrest of the seat. When the plane finally landed, the man just walked out as if nothing had happened. A few months later, Hemanta Mukhopadhayay's Amijhorer kachey rekhe gelam amar thikana hit the market in West Bengal to beat all in the game. It was the work of Salil Chowdhury, a music mind like no other. He had conceived the entire song during that horrifying flight; from its lyrics and tunes to its orchestra.

In 1950, refugees from the then East Pakistan thronged the Ballygunje area in South End Park, Calcutta. Sachin "Karta" (Dev Burman) from the balcony of his newly built two-storied house watched the despair of a refugee who with his Bangla dhol was drumming his pains for being uprooted from his motherland. He immediately summoned poet Mohini Chowdhury through his tabla partner, Brajen Biswas. The poet obliged and Karta gave him the song summary. Mohini Chowdhury wrote, Shei je dinguii, banshi bajanor dinguii, hauler dinguii bhatialir dinguii, aajpichudakey... baaje tak dum tak dum baaje, baaje bhanga dhol, an all time best seller until the song was 'remixed' with Meera Dev Burman's lyrics, Baaje tak dum tak dum baaje Bangladesher dhol in 1971 to become a popular song in

Bangladesh.

Hirn round 180 degree and take a step of about fifteen years and you would find a disturbed Jnanedra Prasad Goswami, nephew of Tagore's mentor, Radhika Prasad Goswami of Vishnupur gharana, in Ustad Zamiruddin Khan's music cell. He was rejected by Tagore in connection with the rendition of Aulpo loiya thaki that had strains of Raga Chhayanaut. A disappointed Jnan “Goshai”, as he was popularly known, vented out the episode. Poet Kazi Nazrul Islam was there too. He patiently listened to the story, closed his eyes for a while and then lifted his pen. In a few minutes he wrote, Shunno a bukey pakhi mor aaye in the same metre. The song registered a massive hit that eclipsed Aulpo loiya thaki.

To most men in music, some of the finest tunes or lyrics owe to circumstantial factors.

Along jump in the same direction to

cover decades. Tagore discovered a young man taking a daily walk in the late afternoon down the road adjacent to the beautiful garden of the “Jorasanko” home. His effort was not for his health but only to take a glimpse of the beautiful Indira. Tagore had a sweet connection with his sister in law and so he penned the teaser, Shokhi proti din hai eshey phirey jaye ke, Tarey amar malar ekti kushum dey. We will never know whether the story is true or a joke. But it is funny. So, here is another one on Tagore. It was a moonlit night and Tagore had two guests, Amal Hom and Charu Bandyoapadhyay. The three of them chatted until late hours when the guests finally retired. Suddenly, there was some crooning somewhere. The guests tracked down the voice and found the poet sitting on a big marble slab skillfully trying to blend his lyrics and tunes. It was the shaping of

Jyotsna raateyshobai gechey bon-e.

Didn't someone say, “In Bengal, every time a gentle wind blows, either a poet or a composer is born?" Rajanikanta Sen had poetry in his breath. He recited in pujas and functions, extempore. During the 1905 partition of Bengal, Tagore and others were out in the streets protesting the British action. Rajanikanta arrived from Darjeeling and checked in to his friend's mess. The locals spotted him and requested a patriotic song for them. He pulled out his pen from his “book pocket" took a paper and immediately penned, Mayer deya mota kapod.

In the early part of his life, DL Roy was a Settlement Officer in the court. One day, he returned home to find his teenage wife, Shurobala, spring a surprise. With a mile long smile, she bedecked him with a garland of flowers, plucked fresh. Pleased as punch, DL Roy immediately wrote, Ami shara shokalti boshey boshey ei shadher malati gethechi.

Then we have someone who lived with only music, the Dhaka-born successful lawyer from Lucknow, Atul Prasad. Shorn of a proper matrimonial life all through that stemmed out of his mother's second marriage and his own (he married his first cousin), he sought solace in music. Some of his finest compositions emerged under very tragic circumstances. Once he returned home early to find his wife, the stubborn Hemkusum, burning his favourite suits, jackets and trousers that he had bought in London. He went back to his office immediately and wrote, jabo najabo najabo na ghorey. With time, Atul Prasad and his wife started living separately in Lucknow and would be only together on special occasions. Tagore was once Atul Prasad’s guest and Hemkusum with their son joined them. A visibly happy Atul Prasad wrote, Aaj amar shunno ghorey ashilo shundar ogo onek diner porey. But as soon as Tagore left, Hemkusum with the son bade goodbye too. A dejected poet now wrote, Ogo nithur darodi eki khelchho onu khon. It was raining all through, evening till midnight; the poet just completed writing a piece. He now sang by the window in the wilderness of isolation, Need nahi aankhi patey, amio ekaki tumio ekaki. Many years later, it was now Hemkusum on the piano with this tune. Only Atul Prasad was no more.