Late '50s—
The art of their beauty,
A telephone rings,
(ring, ring, ring, ring).
As a musician,
I journeyed to West Nepal,
A sandstorm blew across the highway,
full of free will.
The era of storytellers—
The melodic Gandarbhas.
A musical heritage,
A bygone era,
The sound of the Sarangi,
A musical vehicle for the soul.
I loved the way they translated deeply:
"What can I do besides
exploring the sounds of diverse music?"
Time fades,
heritage wanes.
The early '60s—
Hippies invaded!
The evolution of technology—
"Radio Ga Ga" signals the change.
The vehicle stood abandoned,
Western instruments arrived,
The musical scene shifted.
They fade away,
like strangers on the way.
Where do they go,
those lost melodies?
In every corner,
A battle brews—
Between the tradition they cherish
And the revolution they must embrace.