Was it a dark and stormy night? Honestly, I don’t remember. Were we young and impressionable, and miles away from loaded words like ‘career’ and ‘future’? Definitely so.

I was done with graduation and staying in North Campus, Delhi, back then. Days meant going to classes (I was pursuing Print Journalism) and nights would end in chilling sessions with friends or friends-of-friends that would go on till the wee hours of the morning. It was on one of these occasions that a friend of mine took me over to his friend’s place. It turned out to be a room full of strangers making conversations about poets, obscure music, and other riff-raff. Though Budha Sadhu (read Old Monk) was in abundance, food was starting to run low and we were inching towards the invisible wall of stunted conversations and awkward silences. It was getting dark when our host received a call on the phone. She took it and when she hung up, she had a smile on her face.

“Hey guys, Rahul is coming. Also, he’s getting more food!” Her exclamation was received with muted cheering before everyone returned to the comfortable hum of conversations. I joined the white noise of anecdotes and small talk, killing time till we would receive this unexpected guest.

Around midnight, the doorbell rang. “That must be Rahul!” our host said, jumping off the sofa and opening the door. The next scene continues to remain etched in my memory to this day, as clear as a photograph. At the door stood Rahul Ram, bassist, vocalist, and basically, Indian music scene’s godly figure. In his hands, he held a bulging packet of food, the aroma of which made my stomach rumble in anticipation. “I brought momos,” he said and cracked a grin.

It was only then that I realised “Rahul” had meant the Rahul Ram and the people I was hanging out with were rather thick with him. He seemed to be completely at ease and was not being the superstar that I imagined him to be, inside my head. This was the time when Indian Ocean (as always) were rocking packed venues and college fests were considered incomplete without their glorious stage act. And here was that celebrity calmly chatting and sharing stories without a care in the world. My moment of being starstruck eventually passed and I dived headlong into the party.

Soon enough, a guitar materialised and landed itself comfortably in Rahul’s hands. And the rest of the night was filled with his booming baritone, regaling us with a playlist that no one would ever hear at an Indian Ocean concert. From Buffalo Soldier to songs about the revolution, I sat, wide-eyed, completely trapped in his melodic spell. The singing continued till the early hours when we finally decided to call it an end. I remember Rahul da, as he is fondly called, choosing to drop us back to Double Storey in Vijaynagar and promising to get together again.

I don’t need to tell you that that never happened. Soon enough, it was time to grow up, and the incident became a part of the scrapbook of memories that I have from my time spent at North Campus. I continued to see Rahul Ram in concerts and events post that, but never really got a chance to bring that night up. Perhaps, it was one of those real-life things that eventually attain a dream-like status over time and continues to remain so till you bring it up the next time as an interesting anecdote.

Sometimes, when life catches me unawares, I find myself smiling, thinking back to the times when nights were filled with wonder and you could find momos or a celeb musician, depending on how lucky you were. Or both.