I recall my early days, as I slowly became conscious of my being, the
small house we lived in being permeated with
the fragrance, of paint, turpentine and linseed.
Amitabha and Maitreyi Banerjee, painters of repute, instilled in me an appreciation of all things beautiful.
I would see my mother painting on a canvas with bright warm colours, as she would sometimes hum few phrases of a Khayal, or some combined notes in a great speed, which I later knew to be the 'taans' of north Indian Classical music.
Sometimes in the background, the tape recorder would play Khayals and Thumris of our master vocalists.