Shri Nathji is back again at writing ghazals the whole day long till the late hours of the night. He listens with great joy to a ghazal which had been put to music by Priya Nath earlier:“Sabaa ko phir bulaa laao meraa paigaam le jaaye“Call the morning breeze again, and let it carry my message,Shri Nathji had some time back sung this ghazal himself and recorded it on tape. Priya Nath had discovered the recording, and then had sung the ghazal himself in a similar tune.“Asli gaanaa to apkaa hotaa hai! Mujhe to gaanaa hi naheen aataa! Ek hee tune men saari ghazalen gaataa hoon!“Real singing comes only from you. I don’t know how to sing. I sing all the ghazals in just one tune!”This was, of course, Shri Nathji’s characteristic humility. His was the voice of God, and it was from Him that all of music stemmed.“Priyaji iss ghazal ki fauran“Priyaji make copies of this ghazal and let them go to the world. People will dance with joy when they listen to it!”Alas! Shri Nathji’s wishes could not be fulfilled, as Priya Nath was too immersed in looking after Shri Nathji to think of anything else.