The Bewitching Triology in 4 Parts - Part 3
The Tale of Maharaja Satinder and the Unfixable Glitch: A Cosmic Raga in Reverse Harmonica Minor
One dusky night beneath a banyan of stars,
Tuk Tuk the tabla tortoise, keeper of scars,
Heard the echo of celestial beats long gone
Rhythms once pure, now fractured and withdrawn.
He gazed at a baby tiger, striped with fate,
Eyes wide as moons, heart syncopate.
Into this cub, Tuk Tuk poured his lore,
Metronomic pulses from rhythm’s core.
“Grow strong, little Satinder,” he whispered low,
“Let your paws tap time where no clocks go.”
And grow he did, into Maharaja Satinder the Tiger,
Whose claws could count tala like a cosmic cipher.
His tabla roared with precision divine,
Each beat a balm, each rhythm a spine.
Around him, the Maharaja Blues swelled and soared,
A kingdom of cadence, richly restored.
But the glitch, ah, the damned glitch, still danced in the void,
A wrinkle in rhythm that could not be destroyed.
It twisted tempos in distant lands,
Bent lullabies with invisible hands.
Even Satinder, with paws of gold,
Could not tame what the Witch Panda had rolled.
And so, in a tower of tuning forks and sighs,
Prof A Indigo, with tear streaked eyes,
Blew into his Reverse Harmonica of woe,
A sound so blue it bent time’s flow.
His notes wept sideways, his chords fell up,
Each breath a lament, each phrase a hiccup.
And somewhere, in music heaven’s dusky dome,
Son House smiled, feeling strangely at home.
“The blues,” he murmured, “ain’t meant to be fixed.
They live in the cracks, in the spells that got mixed.”
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