The word Madira aptly welcomes the listener to Satya Raj Acharya’s debut ghazal album, Madhusala. The setting is, of course, a Madhusala, the tavern we frequent seeking escape from the humdrum of our Quotidian lives. It’s this notion of escapism that permeates the title track in Acharya’s album: Madira le dina janyaachha, kasai sanga lidaina/ Sabai le dhoka dinchha, tara yesle didaina.

The 45-minute-long album, released this June, is a collection of eight ghazals: the titular Madhusala; Kali; Aaja Euta; Yaad Timro; Aau Timi; Nachalau Timi; Jindagi Ko; and Hami Pani. But this is not your run-of-the-mill ghazal album: The album has been written, composed and sung by Acharya himself (he feels only he can render the feel of his lyrics in all its essence), the first time it has happened anywhere in the world. The album, informs Acharya, is slated to be inducted into the Guiness Book of World Records for the feat.

Satya Raj writes about little, not always simple, things in life.

About getting inebriated in a bhatti. About how he prefers a kali lover over a gori one. About a quest for love. And about musings on life itself. Whether it be the quirkiness of Madhusala (Aau sathi ramau aaja Madhusala ma/ Ek ek pyala samau aaja Madhusala ma) or the deeply personal Kali (Gori bhanda malai ta kali mann paryo/ Ali sojhi ali ali jaali mann paryo), or the dark melancholy of Aaja Euta (Aaja euta kham

dekhe, teha timro naam dekhe/ Astayeko aakasma arko naya ghaam dekhe, teha timro naam dekhe), the album speaks of the things that come and go as we go about living our mundane lives. About the things that frolic inside our minds perennially, yet never see the light of day. The album is infused with music that is at once haunting and soothing, with its mix of classical instruments such as flute, harmonium and guitars. As one listens to the album, Acharya’s motifs become apparent: This album is as much an autobiography, as it is a musical expression of the human condition.

Acharya is a realist. He finds himself engrossed in what is palpable, what is possible. “While some promise to pluck stars out of the sky; I would pluck a flower. Because I want to talk about things that are possible,” Acharya says in the same down-to-earth tone that embodies his lyrics.

“It’s the discipline that the form demands that lured me into this genre,” says Acharya. Raised in a musical household, it is no wonder that Acharya inherited the penchant for ghazals from his father, Bhajan Siromani Bhakta Raj Acharya. “Although it is my first ghazal album, I have produced many albums [eight in collaboration with his younger brother, Swarup Raj; and one solo album, Subhav, the love for ghazals was something instilled into me quite early in life,” says Acharya. “Ghazals by artists such as Gulam Ali, Jagajeet Singh and Mehdi Hassan were staples in our home.

I grew up listening to them, and trying to engross ourselves into the world of ghazal.”

Acharya says he writes his lyrics when any incident simmers into, and encumbers, his mind. He then infuses the banal with his deft artistic touch, a touch fostered through years of hard work and diligence. He sits with his faithful harmonium and the process begins. “The composition process begins just about when I am writing down the lyrics,” he says. “I am lucky in this regard. This feels like a gift endowed to me at birth: While I go about writing the lyrics—which I usually do while playing harmonium—a tune, or say a melody, itself is crafted, it comes quite naturally,” says Acharya.

It was not until recently that Satya Raj realised he should do a ghazal album. Four years on, each ghazals the album holds stand on their own merit. The merit of finding meaning in the Quotidian.

Once the album draws to a close with the final melodies, the listener would not be blamed for buying into the singers layered motifs. Maybe even embarking on personal journeys of discovering the humour in the mundane, the beautiful in the banal.