In the midst of a swinging music session at the Shaurya Centre in Palwal (Haryana) on the Delhi-Agra highway, a pair of eyes kept looking at me, smiling all the time. No words. Then an arm reached out from the same place, across a table, toward me. We were in the midst of singing many songs, including some tributes to Lata Mangeshkar, like 바카라Ae Merey Watan Kay Logo바카라, and also some peppy Kishore Kumar songs. What did Yogesh want? I wasn바카라t sure for he didn바카라t speak a word. I kept playing my small harmonica, working it out in the whirl of music. I had four more harmonicas tucked away in a boxbag.