Father Gave Up Music Dream at 24, Filled Home With Songs

At 24, Ashok Bajpai made a choice that would shape his family's life in ways he couldn't have imagined.

When his father passed away in Varanasi, Ashok was performing with a local orchestra, traveling to shows and dreaming of stages. His younger brother was still in school. Someone needed to support the family, so Ashok took a government job and set his microphone aside.

But the music never really stopped.

His daughter Shubhangi remembers a childhood soundtracked by Mohammed Rafi and Mukesh playing constantly in the background. Old Hindi classics like "Barbad-e-Mohabbat Ki Dua" filled their home. Her father sang at weddings, office gatherings, and family functions, especially qawwalis that would turn into group performances as relatives joined in.

The music lessons were quieter but just as powerful. When Shubhangi's 12-year-old brother prepared for a singing competition, their father came home from work every day to practice with him. Songs like "Meri Bheegi Bheegi Si" played over and over in their house.

Shubhangi was too young to participate, but she listened from the other room and learned every word. The practice sessions meant for her brother became her musical education too.

Sometimes her father made up silly songs on the spot, changing his voice and inventing random lyrics to make them laugh before bed. They never knew what the next line would be, and that unpredictability became one of her favorite memories.

During the COVID lockdown, the family played antakshari together in the evenings, a word game built around song lyrics. At the time, it felt like a simple way to pass the hours. Now those nights feel precious.

Sunny's Take

Shubhangi lost her father in November 2025. Only then did she begin to see past "Papa" to the young man who once traveled to Bokaro Steel Plant for shows, who argued with promoters in Bihar over unpaid performance fees, who loved singing so much he built a life around it.

He chose responsibility when his family needed him, but he never let the dream die completely. Instead, he wove it into bedtimes and practice sessions and family gatherings. His sacrifice wasn't just giving something up; it was transforming what he loved into something his children could carry forward.

The songs he sang are the inheritance he left behind.

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