I love getting drenched in the rain. I simply love it. One August evening, when a shower came pelting from the skies, I decided to indulge myself.

I was a Dilliwala at the time. I had driven only a few kilometres when another car came hurtling towards me, stopping short just in time. Windows were rolled down. Apologetic giggles. Ha ha ... hee hee ... hu hu.

Then, suddenly, a rich, impassioned voice leapt into my ears from the stereo of the other car. Ab ke sawan aise barse. A crowd of boys and girls was dancing at India Gate, delirious with joy.

Within seconds I got into flashback mode. Ab ke Sawan, my first album! Shubha Mudgal had sung the songs. Memories came flitting towards me on wings.

At one stage, five songs had been composed and only one was left. But my head was empty. Bereft of melody. The more I struggled, the more the Muse eluded me.

“How’s it going?” Shubha would call me from time to time. “Is the song ready?” I would put her off with one pretext or another.

The day of the recording came. The five songs were sung and dubbed. The last was still hanging in the air. After two days, Shubha would leave for Kolkata where she had a programme.

My head was spinning with tension. And as I fumbled for a tune, any tune, the two lobes of grey matter in my head rattled and made clanging sounds. To hell with the song, I said to myself one evening and walked out of the house.

But where would I go? I thought for a while, then decided to visit a friend. The family was watching a Guns and Roses music video when I walked in. My brain lit up as though someone had put a finger to a switch. Could Shubha be persuaded to sing a rock composition? Her voice was so deep, it rumbled like thunder. And its tonal quality was perfection itself. Ideally suited for a number like this.

Brain, tune and guitar clicked against one another and found a magical connection. I rang up my friend Prasoon Joshi and shared the thought with him. “Splendid idea!” he endorsed heartily. Taking up a pen and a piece of paper, I wrote the song in one go.

Shubha came to the studio the next morning. My throat was dry and my heart thumped in my ribcage as I sang the song for her. All the time I was tortured by the worry that she would reject it offhand. But, like a sinking man, I clung to my battered boat and waited for her reply.

She heard me out. Then, with a puzzled expression, she asked, “Do you really want me to sing this? Are you serious?” I could only nod in affirmation.

Shubha admitted that she had never sung such a song before but said she would give it a try. I followed her to the recording room with bated breath. But the moment she opened her mouth, a kaleidoscope of musical colours and patterns were unleashed into the air. What was hard rock in comparison with that volcanic performance? There was a hushed silence. Everyone in the studio stood like statues, mesmerized by her singing. Ab ke Sawan was made.

Another strange thing happened that day. Shubha had requested the director, Pradeep Sarkar, to spare her from getting wet during the shoot. She was giving a performance in Kolkata immediately afterwards and couldn’t risk catching a chill.

Pradeep had looked crestfallen. This was a monsoon album requiring all the sequences to be shot in the rain. How could Ab ke Sawan be Ab ke Sawan otherwise?

On the day of the shooting, Pradeep arrived at the studio with a squawking hen in his arms. He was using the fluttering of a rain-soaked bird for another shot.

Shubha watched him spend hours on the rebellious bird, trying to get her to flap her wings as though with pleasure, and was extremely impressed with his patience and meticulous attention to detail. When her turn came, Pradeep asked her to raise her hands to the sky as though waiting to catch the first falling drops. This was as per the script.

But the moment Shubha took her pose and Pradeep shouted, “Water!”… lo and behold ... instead of a few drops, a gallon of simulated rain came tumbling down, soaking Shubha to the skin. There was a stunned silence. An embarrassed Pradip rushed up to her, apologizing profusely.

But Shubha smiled sweetly at him. “Never mind, Dada,” she said. “Now that I’m drenched, you may take as many shots as you please.” The clouds of sawan vanished from Pradeep’s face and the cameras rolled rapidly, taking shot after shot.

Ab ke Sawan went on to become a huge hit. It forged a bond between Shubha and me and we became friends. In the years that followed, we have worked together on many projects. But, to this day, the onset of the monsoon takes me back to our first album. The driving rain of Ab ke Sawan sweeps over my mind and spirit and fills it with nostalgia.

Excerpted with permission from On The Wings Of Music: A Book of Journeys, by Shantanu Moitra with Aruna Chakravarti, Harper-Collins India.