Chasing an Impossible Dream

Whenever there was an event in the village, Dhondoo Sutar’s singing performance was almost a certainty.

A carpenter’s son, but by God’s grace, his voice worked more than his hands.

Since his school days, it was a given — whether it was Republic Day, Independence Day, any religious programme, or a school gathering — Dhondoo’s song was a must.

His father was also an artist in his way. Almost every house in the village had something crafted by Mahadu, Dhondoo’s father. Doors, windows, children’s toys, and even wooden prayer platforms.

But unfortunately, when Dhondoo was around 13–14 years old, his father passed away.

At an age when he had just started understanding life, losing his father left him confused and lost, like a calf separated from its herd.

His mother, Gangabai, and he somehow managed to survive in the village. But now, Dhondoo has to contribute as well. Gangabai alone couldn’t run the household.

So, Dhondoo started singing at local fairs, weddings, and other events.

Balancing school with singing was difficult, but he had no choice.

His father had once brought home a harmonium, given by someone for repair, but it was never fixed, so it remained with them.

As a child, Dhondoo used to play around with it while his father listened, feeling proud of his son’s voice.

After his father’s passing, that old harmonium in their tiny hut would often catch his eye and remind him of his father.

Whenever Dhondoo left for a performance, he would look at the harmonium, mentally bow to it, and seek blessings before heading out.

Dhondoo passed his matriculation exam, but the question of further education arose. He would have to go to the nearby town for higher studies.

Gangabai was already exhausted with life, and both of them knew that further education was impossible.

Dhondoo decided to quit studies and start his own music troupe.

With Ganaya, a drummer from the village’s devotional music group, and Parabhya, a pianist from a local band, they formed a musical team.

Slowly, Dhondoo started getting bookings for weddings, first in the village, then in the nearby towns.

After some time, he managed to buy his own instruments — a tabla, harmonium, piano, and drum — collecting them bit by bit.

Life wasn’t perfect, but at least they weren’t starving.

Now, Dhondoo has turned 22–23 years old. Gangabai was eager to see him married, but Dhondoo wanted to wait and achieve something first.

One day, during a performance in the town, a man from Mumbai was greatly impressed by his singing.

After the show, the man approached him and said,

“Hey, kid! You belong in Mumbai, not here! What are you doing in this village? Go to Mumbai. Singers like you are valued there! You’re wasting your talent for mere pennies here. In Mumbai, you’ll be earning in lakhs!”

Dhondoo was used to getting compliments. People often praised him, and sometimes, if they were extra impressed, they would tip him ₹100 or ₹500.

But today, it was different.

“You’ll be earning lakhs in Mumbai!” — this one sentence struck a chord in his heart.

He decided to think seriously about it.

From that day on, Dhondoo was in a daze.

Performances continued, but something was missing in his singing.

Ganaya and Parabhya noticed and asked, “Dhondya, your singing has lost its spark!”

One night, Dhondoo made up his mind.

He decided to go to Mumbai and try his luck.

When he told Gangabai, she couldn’t stop crying.

Ganaya and Parabhya tried to persuade him, “Don’t do this, Dhondya. Things are going well, why risk everything?”

They weren’t just worried about losing their music partner but also about losing their brother. For the past 7–8 years, they were more like family than just friends.

Dhondoo had never acted superior, which made their bond even stronger.

But for Dhondoo, that one sentence kept echoing in his mind —

“You’ll be earning in lakhs in Mumbai!”

Gangabai even sought help from the village elders, but Dhondoo had already left for Mumbai in his heart.

With no connections and only a little money in his pocket, he set off.

He had heard stories of a famous actor who had come to Mumbai with nothing, struggled a lot, never gave up, and eventually made it big.

Dhondoo saw himself in that story and was ready to endure anything.

Finally, he stepped into the ‘City of Dreams’ — Mumbai.

But the moment he arrived, reality hit him hard.

In just the first 5–10 minutes, he felt overwhelmed.

The endless crowds, the chaos, the struggle — it all made him question if he would even survive here.

But then, he reminded himself of that one sentence,

“You’ll be earning in lakhs in Mumbai!”

He pulled himself together and asked a tea stall owner,

“Where can I find people from the film industry, the singers?”

The tea vendor replied disinterestedly, “They all live in Juhu and Versova.”

Determined, Dhondoo made his way there, gathering information about places like Goregaon Film City.

But looking at the expensive cars, the well-dressed people, and their lifestyles, he lost the courage to approach anyone.

He didn’t even know who to meet — singers, music directors, composers, or producers.

Weeks passed like this.

But he kept repeating two phrases to himself —

“Never give up” and

“You’ll be earning in lakhs in Mumbai!”

One day, he met an agent.

The moment the agent saw Dhondoo, he figured him out instantly.

The agent told him,

“No one gives you a singing break just by looking at your face. You need to record a cassette and give it to the big people. If they like it, they’ll call you.”

Dhondoo knew about cassettes but had no idea how to record one.

So, he asked the agent, who said it would cost at least ₹1 lakh.

That number made Dhondoo dizzy.

He asked if it could be done for less. Eventually, they settled on ₹50,000.

Dhondoo decided to sell his music troupe’s instruments — his hard-earned tabla, piano, band set — everything.

He even asked his mother for whatever gold she had.

Gangabai didn’t understand much but handed over her gold, trusting her son’s dream.

When Dhondoo went to sell his music troupe’s equipment, a huge fight broke out between him, Ganaya, and Parabhya.

His hunger for money had destroyed years of friendship.

But for Dhondoo, nothing mattered anymore except those two lines —

“Never give up” and

“You’ll be earning in lakhs in Mumbai!”

After reaching Mumbai, he recorded his cassette through the agent. By now, he had learned about music directors, composers, singers, lyricists, and producers.

He tried to meet everyone he could, but his simple village look and mannerisms kept people from taking him seriously.

All his cassettes remained with him; none reached the right hands.

But he kept recalling the struggles of that famous actor, which gave him hope.

As months passed, his savings dwindled.

Now, he could barely afford a meal, surviving on a single vada pav per day.

It had been 9–10 months, and there was no money left from home either.

Then, someone in his struggling artist circle suggested singing at a beer bar at night for some extra cash.

At first, Dhondoo refused.

He thought, “I came here to make it big, not to sing in bars.”

But after some time, with no work and no hope, he finally agreed.

His voice was good, so he quickly became popular at the bar.

Finally, his survival problem was solved.

People enjoyed his songs — he sang classics from Kishore, Rafi, and Manna Dey.

But deep inside, he felt lost.

His two guiding phrases had lost their power.

Now, he began to believe —

Talent alone isn’t enough. You need luck and connections.

Otherwise, there are thousands of talented people like him,

And not everyone can become a Kishore Kumar or a Mohammed Rafi.

For almost two years, he had been trying to achieve something big. Sometimes, he would sit alone for hours on Juhu Beach, lost in thought, wondering what he had done with his life.

Now, he truly felt like a failure. Even his job singing in a beer bar had become unbearable. He feared what people from his village would say if they saw him — “He went to become a singer and ended up playing in a bar.” They wouldn’t hesitate to mock him, and that scared him the most.

Once again, he made up his mind to return home. “Big things are not meant for everyone. They were never meant for me.” He had accepted this harsh truth and convinced himself to move on. Negative thoughts had now become his shield, blocking out all hope and positivity.

Finally, Dhondu returned to his village.

But everything had changed. His childhood friendship with Ganya Parabhya had faded. The family’s carpentry business was long gone. Only his mother remained a source of comfort, though she, too, had grown weak and frail.

As soon as he entered his house, his eyes fell on his harmonium. For some reason, he felt an intense hatred toward it for the first time in his life. A strong urge to smash it to pieces took over him.

The village was buzzing with the news — “Dhondu is back!” Some people even called him “Kishore,” and “Rafi,” names they used to tease him with before he left for Mumbai. Back then, such names had made him proud, but now, they felt like sharp jabs to his soul.

Meanwhile, Ganya Parabhya had started a new music group with a girl from another village. Their group was thriving.

When they heard Dhondu was back, they approached him and asked if he wanted to join their band again. Both sides needed each other.

After much thought, Dhondu agreed. The performances resumed, but something was different — his voice wasn’t the same as before.

As Republic Day approached, the village school decided to hold a celebration, with the village head, deputy head, and school principal in attendance. Dhondu’s group was hired to perform.

After the girl in their group finished her song, Dhondu started singing. The entire village knew his voice well, but something was missing. His singing lacked its old magic.

Suddenly, the village head interrupted him in the middle of his performance. “Hey, Dhondu! Sing properly, will you? What is this shouting? This is not Mumbai where you can scream any nonsense!” he scolded in front of everyone.

That comment cut deep into Dhondu’s soul.

Ganya Parabhya quickly took the microphone from Dhondu’s hands and handed it to the girl. The program continued.

Dhondu sat there, frozen, like a wounded prey unable to move.

When the event ended, some people were still laughing at the village head’s words.

At this point, Dhondu felt nothing. He had become numb.

People continued to call him “Kishore,” and “Rafi,” and he had grown so used to it that he had almost forgotten his real name.

Months passed.

Even Ganya Parabhya had started avoiding him. They had found great success performing with the girl, and they no longer needed Dhondu.

Dhondu survived on whatever little he earned. When he had no work, he would just sit and stare at his harmonium.

He often felt like picking it up and singing. Memories of his father would come rushing back.

Then, he would laugh at himself, hum a tune, and sing for a little while — just for a short time.

For Dhondu, singing had once been his life. But now, his life had lost all meaning.

One day, out of nowhere, a man arrived in the village, searching for “Dhondu Sutar — the carpenter.”

This man had been sent by the owner of the beer bar where Dhondu used to sing.

A regular customer at the bar had heard Dhondu’s voice many times and had asked the bar owner to find him. This customer was a well-known music composer from the film industry.

After a long search, the man finally reached Dhondu’s small hut and explained everything to him. He pleaded with Dhondu to come to Mumbai.

But Dhondu no longer had the strength. He wanted nothing more from life. He had been beaten down too many times. His confidence was shattered, and he had even lost his voice.

But the man refused to take no for an answer.

Even Dhondu’s mother, Gangabai, insisted that he go. She couldn’t bear to watch her son wasting away like this.

Reluctantly, Dhondu returned to Mumbai.

The music composer had noticed a unique quality in Dhondu’s voice, one that perfectly suited an upcoming film’s hero.

Dhondu tried to sing, but he couldn’t get it right.

One take. Two takes. Three takes. Five takes. Nothing worked.

The composer called Dhondu aside and said, “Life is full of ups and downs. Even a tiger steps back before making a great leap. You will get this right. I believe in you.”

Something clicked in Dhondu’s mind.

He gave another take, and this time, it was perfect.

The composer was thrilled.

For the next few days, Dhondu recorded several songs. Slowly but surely, he regained his confidence.

And then, the movie was released.

It became a massive hit.

Overnight, Dhondu Sutar became DS — a famous playback singer.

Offers from top directors and composers started pouring in.

He recalled the story of that film’s hero, and now, he saw himself in the same position.

The film’s songs became legendary, and Dhondu became a star.

One day, he returned to his village to take his mother with him.

The villagers were stunned — Dhondu had arrived in a four-wheeler!

He entered his humble home, took his mother’s blessings, and then, his eyes fell on his harmonium.

He stopped in his tracks.

Slowly, he walked toward it, picked it up, and tried to play.

Even now, he couldn’t get the notes right.

But this time, the tears falling on the harmonium made up for everything.