MEMORIANS: Memories of Brian Siqueira
October 15, 1948 — April 30, 2020
Letter to Maria (Joey) Siqueira
May 30, 2020
Dear Joey,
Here is a compilation of stories of Brian which come straight from the heart. They were the result of the deep catharsis I felt with his passing and to get over it I went back in time to unearth memories of my dearest friend.
I realize some folks might quibble over the veracity of some details of the stories but I hope they do it with a smile. David Lean would never have made his classics, “Lawrence of Arabia”, “Dr. Zhivago” or “Passage to India” if he hewed strictly to the facts. They would have been long boring documentaries in black and white instead of vibrant color. And, guess who would be the biggest losers for it.
My son, Rohan, gave me some wonderful advice about my storytelling. He said “Papa, if ever there is a conflict between the legend and the facts, print the legend”.
So, dearest Joey, here is my rendition of the factual legend of our much-beloved Brian. Hope they bring some solace and a smile to your face when you read them.
With love from a dear friend,
Mark
Memories of Brian from His Little Drummer Boy Mark Castelino*
We are all still in a state of shock at the sudden departure of our much-beloved Brian, our “music man” over those five grueling but happy years at IIT, Bombay. He was a civil engineering major who put his knowledge to great use. He was in the midst of a huge project in South Bend, Indiana turning the old Studebaker plant into a thriving commercial establishment. He will surely be hard to replace. No doubt, there is only one Brian.
One Brian, indeed! In more ways than one. Don’t know how many of you are aware of Brian’s pedigree. He came from the same school (St. Mary’s) as conductors Zubin Mehta and Daniel Nazareth, Freddy Mercury of Queen and might have even outshone them if given the opportunity, but alas that was not to be. Hey, look at it this way. How many of us would have been able to experience the pure joy of his performing the famous “Guitar Boogie”, “Savage” and other pieces by the Shadows and Ventures at the IIT functions which so many students only came just to watch him perform
Brian and I kept our friendship over the many years since our IIT days. I visited him often, was there for all his children’s weddings, anniversaries, the most recent being his 70th birthday celebration. In my little speech, I reminded the friends and family that our humble Brian graduated from the same University that the CEOs of Microsoft, Google, and IBM did. No, actually I had to correct myself, the CEO of Microsoft did not get into IIT so had to settle for MIT:))) Brian’s son was so startled by all of this that he asked his mother, “Mom, how did Dad get into that university?”
Some of you have asked me questions or made requests which I can barely fulfill. Here are some I can. The restaurant on Linking Road where the Elektrons performed was “Luniks”, which I do not think exists anymore. As for pictures of Brian, I will do one better. Attached are two videos, one Brian playing the guitar which all of you are familiar with. What you probably unaware of is Brian’s skill as a pianist. Many felt that his skill as a pianist outshone his skill as a guitarist. Watch and enjoy him playing “Peacepipe” on guitar and an Ahmad Jamal classic, titled, “Poinciana” on piano. And all this without the tips of three fingers lost to a lawn mower.
Brian and I enjoyed smoking Cuban Cigars and sipping Scotch. Most of our evenings together included those simple pleasures complemented with some Jazz Classics, the Brazilian variety. Oh, how I will miss them. Given this lockdown by the virus I will be unable to say goodbye to this dear friend, but I promise to do this. I will visit his grave side on my next visit to South Bend, with a bottle of Scotch, two glasses, a Cohiba for Brian and a Partagas for me. I will pour a double for him and for me, light his cigar (no candles) and mine, and listen to Stan Getz. If people walking by chuckle at this crazy old man, let them. This world could do with a little more madness in these crazy times. After all, “It’s a Mad Mad Mad Mad World”.
And, before I leave, I will sprinkle his grave with his holy water, the unfinished double of Scotch.
Dear Brian, you brought so much joy to our world
With much love, from
Your little drummer boy.
Mark
*This story was penned on the day Brian passed away on request of his batchmates
Brian: Hockey & Golf at the Powai Greens
Brian was not a sportsman, but I assure you it was not for want of trying.
The man had passion, lots of it. His wife will confirm it. The three living products of that passion are Michelle, Valerie, and Barry. Of course, that passion came later. In IIT, it was golf. Where? How? When? I’ll tell you, but first, let me talk about hockey.
In all our hostels, the individual wings were separated by courtyards. In Brian’s wing, one of those courtyards was turned into a miniature hockey field where Brian made his debut. Here, however, his passion was stronger than his stamina which lasted no more than five minutes. He put so much effort into those five minutes that he was exhausted and had to be replaced by a substitute for the remaining 55 minutes. As a result, this was one endeavor, where nobody wanted Brian on their team. No problem, he took to golf. But IIT had no golf course. So, Brian created one, but where?
On the same courtyard where hockey was played, of course. The space was not large enough for 18 holes, so he had to make do with six. Six holes were dug up, artificial barriers were erected, and the game was underway. Now in a regular golf course if the ball is hit into the rough, you can take a one-stroke penalty to move the ball out of the rough. No such escape was allowed in Brian’s golf. You had to work your way out of the rough. This necessarily required the destruction of the plants and flower beds on the two sides of the courtyard. A battle royal broke out between the garden secretary and the sports secretary on this matter, which the latter won. Why? Because Hostel 7 dominated sports in the 5 years we were there. No garden or gardener was allowed to affect that dominance.
However, when Brian tried to expand golf from a 6-hole course to a 12-hole course by trying to expropriate the second courtyard, the garden secretary had enough of this and got sufficient support from the hostellers to prevent the destruction of the second garden.
Now you may ask where did Brian get the golf clubs and golf balls from? No problem; the hockey sticks and hockey balls, of course. They made for excellent substitutes to the further horror of the garden secretary.
Till the day he died Brian was passionate about golf. Remember it all began on the 6-hole greens of Hostel 7 at Powai.
As a postscript, after Brian graduated, his buddies, Gerry and Rafu instituted polo at IIT. The tournament was titled, “Polo at Paagal Gymkhana”, played on bicycles with hockey sticks. Oh no! How Brian would have loved that! If no one wanted him on their team he would have insisted on managing the “(Hostel) 7 Bi-Cyclones”.
Here is Brian and Mark’s favorite, Ahmad Jamal doing “Poinciana” and “One”:
Brian and the Nail
We all know that Brian was a five-finger guitarist in the style of Laurindo Almeida and Luiz Bonfa. As any guitarist or an aficionado of the instrument knows, the thumb is the critical finger that brings the music to life. So it naturally was for Brian.
He grew his thumbnail so long it had the same effect as using a plectrum, except, unlike the latter he had use of the other four fingers to deliver outstanding music from that box. Here is a story of “Brian and the Nail.”
It was five days to show time, an important function at IIT in which Brian and his Elektrons were slated to perform when Brian’s thumbnail broke. News of the disaster spread like wildfire throughout IIT. Panic set in that Brian would be unavailable to perform. Of course, the show would go on, except for the main event, the absence of “the Elektrons”. The engineers would have none of it. They got to work.
The Metallurgy department was tasked with producing the material to construct the artificial nail, the Chemical engineering department would produce the glue, and the Mechanical and Civil engineering departments would attach the nail to Brian’s finger.
Work was carried out 24/7. Almost every day a new nail was produced and tested. None worked. It’s amazing how much stress that thumbnail has to endure in plucking those strings. The structural engineers from the Civil engineering department had never experienced anything like this.
Time was running out, so several nails later, Brian threw up his hands in despair and said “to hell with this”, nail or no nail the show must go on, a testament to his spirit.
He went on stage that day and delivered a virtuoso performance with four of his five fingers. To all you football aficionados it’s like watching Messi play without the use of his left leg. Naturally, like Messi, he had to adjust his delivery. He did! Only the cognoscenti, like Almeida or Bonfa would have noted the absence of that nail when Brian delivered “April in Portugal”, “Walk don’t Run”, and “Caravan”.
Pardon me but I cannot help repeating, “What a Loss”!
C’est la vie!
Laurindo Almeida: One Note Samba
Luiz Bonfa: Samba de Orfeu
Maria gets a First Class
Among our group in IIT Brian was the first to have a girlfriend. We only came to know later it was one Maria Sodder. Those were not times when boys kept photos of their sweethearts but somehow Brian had one. One day it slipped out of his wallet much to his embarrassment. The picture was of a beautiful light-eyed, light-skinned girl which convinced us she was a foreigner. When her last name ‘Sodder” came to be known we were convinced we were, indeed, right. After all none of us knew any native Indian with such a name. So, the speculation was on, “how do you solve the problem of Maria Sodder”?
On second thoughts it should never have been much of a problem as so many of us had western names such as Siqueira, Colaco, Castelino, Braganza, and Mascarenhas but we knew of their Portuguese origins, but Sodder? The mystery was finally somehow resolved with the news that Maria was indeed pucca Goan. So dear Maria, you were the subject of much speculation in IIT even before anybody laid eyes on you. The problem of Maria was now solved.
One afternoon Brian returns from Bombay smiling from ear to ear. “What’s the good news, buddy?” all of us chime in simultaneously. Brian, for a moment is unable to contain himself. “Maria just received the great news she got a First Class” he rapturously announces. “Is that all?” one of us declares. You see in IIT virtually all of us are “First Class” and up. You could barely get into IIT without it, so it's not surprising that nobody is as impressed. Nonetheless, in the spirit of camaraderie we surround Brian, pat him on the back, and offer him our congratulations, which he gracefully and gratefully accepts, like a proud father whose daughter has just won a gold medal in the Olympics.
That evening was one for celebration. Brian ordered a bottle or two of “caju feni” (banned in IIT), a couple of packs of Panama and Charminar cigarettes (the then equivalent of Moet et Chandon champagne and Cohibas) and celebrated throughout the night to the tunes of
“Oh! Pretty Woman” and “Maria from Bahia”.
Thank you, Joey, for bringing so much joy by getting a First Class in your Senior Cambridge exams. Brian, after all, only got a second class, so you might have gotten into IIT if you tried, except, then we might have been deprived of all that joy your Brian brought us with his music. So, it did, indeed, turn out for the best.
“Oh! Pretty Woman”
“Maria”
Brian Passes but his Tutor Gerry fails
Now that Brian has a girlfriend to add to his many sources of enjoyment such as his music and golf, he has no time for studies.
He arrives from Bombay late one evening, probably after a date with Joey only to be greeted with alarm.
“Brian, you are truly daring to go on a date with an important exam tomorrow”, says his wing-mate Gerry.
Brian is stunned, “What exam”? “That’s next week”!
“No, it’s tomorrow” exclaims Gerry, “What the heck is wrong with you? Now don’t blame Joey for this”
“Oh no! What will I do”? says Brian, half in tears.
“Go, get a bite to eat and come to my room” concludes Gerry
Over the next six hours (12 am to 6 am) Gerry covers the entire semester’s work in Calculus. At 8 am both Gerry and Brian head to class for the exams. They return after the exams at 12 pm with Brian all smiles and Gerry half asleep. He tells us all he has aced the exam. We are all amazed as it was a difficult exam.
One of us asks him how he solved the differentiation problem.
“It was easy. This is what I did” says Brian
“But that is not right, Brian,” says Mark
“How about the Integration problem”?
“Here is how I solved it” he continues
Rafu chimes in “What’s with you Brian, you cannot do that”
Problem after problem, Brian discovers, is answered incorrectly, He is devastated. However, enough of them are correct for him to get a passing grade. No such luck for his tutor Gerry.
Apparently, his overnight teaching of Brian had exhausted him so much that he slept on his desk the entire exam and delivered a blank paper. Naturally, he fails.
Now both, Gerry and Rafu are brilliant, but neither could face their fathers if they delivered an “F”, especially Gerry whose grandfather is the owner of the much-celebrated Tripos in mathematics from Cambridge. So, the rest of the semester, there was no hockey, golf, or music for Gerry. He puts his nose to the grindstone and delivers a perfect final. In fact, after his zero in the mid-term his professor was sure he had somehow gotten the exam paper or had copied. Neither was true, it was simply a brilliant mind at work and the prospect of embarrassing his grand-father that did it.
Beatles: A Hard Day’s Night
The Elektrons at Shanmukhananda Hall
It was inevitable that sooner rather than later that Brian’s skill would be widely recognized. So much so, that his group, “the Elektrons” were invited to perform with other top groups in a “beat show” at Shanmukhananda Hall.
The news of the invitation spread like wildfire throughout IIT. Here was the opportunity that IIT could deliver more than just engineering. All the engineers at this top Indian university decided that nothing would be left to chance. The talent from every department was sought. The finest brains money could buy free of charge put their heads together, they designed special amplifiers, woofers, speakers, artificial nails for Brian, if God forbid if as it happened once before, one of them broke.
On the day of the performance, the excitement reached a fever pitch. Many IITians could not enter Shanmukhananda Hall as their allotment of tickets could not match the demand. The show began to “standing room only”.
When the time arrived for the Elektrons via the signal “Five minutes! Five minutes! Five minutes to show time”! All the designated helpers wheeled the equipment, amplifiers, speakers, woofers, and all on the stage. The most skilled engineers in the world then wired all the connections and quit the stage literally seconds before the curtain was raised to wild cheers.
The opening piece was titled “Savage”, one initiated by the drummer, Mark Castelino, who did so with gusto. At the right moment, Brian started his lead guitar, followed by Rafu, the rhythm guitarist, and then Luis Lobo on bass. All the practiced motions followed, except for one problem……….No sound! No sound! The only performer heard was the drummer. Seated behind the performers, he was oblivious of what was going on in front of him. He could see the action but could not hear it.
It was a disaster. Thankfully, Brian’s dad walked down the center aisle waving his arms yelling “Stop! Stop! Stop! No Sound! No Sound!” It was too late. The damage was done. As one might imagine the air was thick with disappointment. So many came from so far and so wide to witness what was headlined as a performance to remember. It ended up being precisely that. They all came and witnessed the sounds of silence, except for the little drummer boy who did not need any help from his engineering colleagues. He finally had the opportunity to deliver a much demanded “drum solo”.
When it all ended, a Jesuit priest from St Xavier’s college who taught all the engineers on the stage was overheard saying, “this is what happens when engineers think they can be musicians”.
The silver lining here was that Brian’s dad would never allow his son to be embarrassed like this ever again. He immediately bought Brian a Fender amplifier from the US and the rest is history.
Here is Brian doing “Savage” that never was but might have been.
Preview of the Shanmukhananda Disaster
The Jets were the premier beat group in Bombay when the Elektrons were performing to rave reviews in IIT. In fact, that was the reason why the Elektrons were invited to the beat show at Shanmukhananda Hall. The Jets wanted to hear this group to see if their dominance of the Bombay scene could possibly be threatened by these upstarts from a village named Powai. So, they invited the Elektrons for a preview at the home of the lead guitarist of the Jets. The Elektrons obliged.
It was a Saturday evening when the villagers from Powai trekked all the way to upscale Colaba to display their talent. Thankfully, the Jets offered the use of their equipment to the Elektrons as it would have been well-nigh impossible to bring their own. That was well and good as apart from anything else, the Jets had top-of-the-line amplifiers, speakers and a drum set. The Elektrons were stunned at what they saw in terms of equipment.
I don’t remember the individual pieces the Elektrons chose to perform but I do remember that one of them was “Savage”, the signature piece of the Jets. This was a piece initiated by the drummer, followed by the bass guitarist then the lead guitarist, and the rhythm guitarist.
As the drummer, I was perfectly situated to capture the reaction of the Jets. They were all stunned. They had never witnessed the skill of a guitarist such as Brian. It even topped that of the lead guitarist of the Shadows, the British group that composed the piece. Three or four pieces later Brian’s skill was simply too much for the Jets, so the evening ended quietly and the villagers returned to their abode in Powai.
I would have loved to have been that proverbial fly on the wall to listen in on the conversation that must have taken place in that living room after the departure of the Elektrons.
We may never know but Brian went to his grave believing that the Shanmukhananda debacle was simply no accident.
Here is Brian doing an Eric Clapton classic, titled, “Crossroads”
Brian: His Cigars and Humidor
As I have often said, Brian was a very passionate man, passionate about so many things in life. To name just three; his beloved wife, his music, and his cigars and humidor. When I once said this aloud, unaware that Joey was behind me, she interjected with a wry smile, “True, but in what order”?
Whenever I visited him which was not often enough there was never a cigar too good to share with me. I normally smoke Rocky Patels but Brian would have none of it. I had to have only the best; Cohiba, Partagas, Monte Cristo, La Gloria Cubana just to name a few. These cigars cost at a minimum of $25 and up, far too rich for my humble purse but Brian would only agree to share the best with me. I had to try them all.
Now to Brian’s humidor. He has a huge one with several shelves stacked with the most expensive cigars money could buy, together with several misters and humidity meters in critical locations which had to be fine-tuned to perfection.
On a typical evening when we are in the midst of our “Smoke and Scotch” sessions with Jobim’s music in the background, Brian gets upset, “I adjusted the humidity in that darn humidor only last night, now the cigar is too dry”. He gets up, adjusts the humidor to a higher setting, and returns with two other Cubans. “Don’t smoke the one you have Mark, it’s too dry, try this one”. I ask myself, “Is the man insane, or what?” I am thoroughly enjoying the Partagas he gave me, now he wants me to get rid of it in exchange for a Cohiba because in his estimation, the humidor is ever so slightly off. It is impossible for me to understand this man’s quest for perfection.
During my entire stay and tens of Cubans later he is still continuously tinkering with his humidor. He is so unhappy with the many humidors he has purchased over the years that he has finally decided that he will design his own. What better way to utilize his education as an engineer?
Brian is like a master chef always noticing that this ingredient or that one is too little or excessive, or hasn’t been well-timed for entry into the dish. Everybody is enjoying the meal and complimenting the chef, yet he is unhappy. That is my Brian. That quest for perfection applies to more than just his music.
Anyway, by the end of my stay and several hundreds of dollars of cigars later, my good friend is apologizing for the failure of his humidor to deliver the perfect cigar. Now that he has left us all, that elusive humidor is still awaiting its invention.
When Brian arrives in Paradise only to be greeted by a sign: “No Smoking, Not even Cubans”, I can easily imagine him complaining bitterly to St Peter that even heaven has been infected by the political correctness virus, “To hell with this!” he exclaims, “All those good works I selflessly performed for this? Could you please send me back so I could finally design that elusive humidor and share the perfect cigar I promised my buddy, Mark”?
Stranger in Paradise
Brian, Uncle Alec, and Catholic Gymkhana
Having seen Brian perform it should come as no surprise that his talent was embedded in his genes. His father’s brother, Alec Siqueira, an outstanding classical pianist in his own right, early on recognized Brian’s potential and took him under his wing.
Every day, after school, Brian was headed to the dreaded U. Alec’s home for piano practice. Brian must have been no more than six or seven years old when these after school music sessions began. He described them as bordering on cruelty. U. Alec had a ruler in his right hand and any mistake Brian made was met with a solid whack across his knuckles, not with the flat face but the edge. He used to return home in tears with badly bruised knuckles. He may have gotten sympathy from his beloved mother but none from his father, whose brother convinced him that Brian’s incredible talent should never go to waste.
By the time Brian was ten he had achieved “prodigy” status, so much so that he was invited to perform at a special concert for outstanding musicians. The concert was held at Catholic Gymkhana and was standing room only by the time the performances began. Some of the most outstanding musicians in Bombay displayed their talents on the violin, harp, sax, guitar, and others. These musicians were seasoned, in their 40’s and 50’s, some even had their own bands.
When the time came for Brian to be on stage, a piano was wheeled in with a special seat for Brian as the usual seat was too low for him. He was introduced as a young prodigy.
Brian bows to the audience and to his Uncle Alec in the front row. He crosses his fingers and stretches them as pianists are wont to do, turns the pages to his piece, and starts playing. He is hardly a minute into the piece by Franz Liszt when his Uncle Alex jumps up from his front-row seat waving his arms and yelling “Stop! Stop! Stop! a preview of what was to happen many years later when Brian was performing in Shanmukhananda Hall.
Uncle Alec climbs on to the stage and orders Brian off it. He goes to the mike and tells the following story:
“Twenty-five years ago I was responsible for buying this piano, a Steinway. Many performers, including me, enjoyed playing on it much to the delight of all of you. I played on it for several years but noticed it was deteriorating over time. The last time I played on it was five years ago, it was then on its last keys, so I suggested it be replaced. Unfortunately, it was not. Now I insist it be broken down, key by key, string by string, pedal by pedal, and be dumped on the railway tracks across from the Gymkhana to be crushed by the next oncoming train. It is too painful to listen to the sound emanating from it and I will not allow my nephew to be embarrassed by it.”
Alec then walks off the stage followed by Brian leaving the audience absolutely in stunned silence. He was simply far too revered to be challenged by anyone. Here is what might have been a perfect ending to this story. The piano was dumped, figuratively, on the tracks, and replaced by one appropriately named in his honor, “the Alec Siqueira Steinway”.
Brian playing Franz Liszt
Sharing a Memory of Brian Siqueira, RIP*
Brian and I enjoyed smoking Cuban Cigars and sipping Scotch. Most of our evenings together included those simple pleasures complemented with some Jazz Classics, the Brazilian variety. Oh, how I will miss them. Given this lockdown by the virus I will be unable to say goodbye to this dear friend, but I promise to do this. I will visit his grave side on my next visit to South Bend, with a bottle of Scotch, two glasses, a Cohiba for Brian and a Partagas for me. I will pour a double for him and for me, light his cigar (no candles) and mine, and listen to Stan Getz. If people walking by chuckle at this crazy old man, let them. This world could do with a little madness in these crazy times. After all, “It’s a Mad Mad Mad Mad World”.
And, before I leave, I will sprinkle his grave with his holy water, the unfinished double of Scotch.
Dear Brian, you brought so much joy to our world
With much love, from
Your little drummer boy.
Mark
*Originally posted on Brian’s Facebook page
Here is Getz-Gilberto’s “Desafinado” and Elizeth Cardoso’s “Manha de Carnival”
Brian’s Arrival in Paradise*
When Brian arrives in Paradise only to be greeted by a sign:
I can easily imagine him complaining bitterly to St Peter that even heaven has been infected by the political correctness virus, “To hell with this!” he exclaims, “All those good works I selflessly performed for this? Could you please send me back so I could finally design that elusive humidor and share the perfect cigar I promised my buddy, Mark”?
*Originally posted on Mark’s Facebook page
Brian could do Malaguena just as good as this guy:
