On Sunday, Bangalore reaches out to catch a Sunbeam

I’ve never spoken to Sunbeam Gregory Motha. But I have spoken to those who knew him. Voices pour from those who’ve shared seasons and times with him, to reveal an uncommon legend. It was somewhere in the early 80s that ‘Beam’, as friends called him, ganged up with Shorab Rubina, Peter Pires, Gerard Sequeira, Geoffery Pope and Micheal Furtado to give Bangalore its pioneer live music movement — the music strip in Cubbon Park. Back in the day it seemed like a rather simple get-together of those who loved music.

According to Peter Pires the ‘scene’ was rather grim for live performances those days. The only outlet for live music was at cabarets like Three Aces, Omar Khayam, Chunlung and Boscos, he explains. It was at a famished time like this, that a scenic strip of land with rocks and trees thrown in, along with a rather inanimate Queen Victoria in the vicinity, turned into the music strip for three unforgettable years.

Recounting the era, Gerard Sequeira, says, “Those were magical days, we used car batteries for amplifiers, we had hurricane lanterns for light and there was no publicity except word-of-mouth.”

Young Sheila Motha, who was then just Sunbeam’s ‘small sister’ recalls that a hat used to be passed around if people wanted to contribute. Pires says that while the ‘jam’ was initially a regular Saturday affair, they switched it to Sunday so families and kids who came to the park could join in the harmony.

Cherished among those who gave live music a place in the city; Beam’s love for music and free-spiritedness spans his entire life. Sequeria, who knew him since their St Joseph’s PUC days, speaks of the maverick from those post-Woodstock years: “While we were still in our 2nd PUC in 1972, Beam decided to travel the world. A cycling champion, he sold his rather sleek bike for $100 to fund his travel.”  He then traces Beam’s trail: “Beam hitchhiked, literally from Frazer Town to Europe. He bumped into a few guys who were heading to Delhi in a car. Soon he made his way to Afghanistan, Iran, Turkey, Spain and the rest of Europe. He spent a considerable amount of time in Germany.”

Sequeria nostalgically talks of the days when Beam was doing odd-jobs, including a stint as a grape-crusher, writing to him about his experiences in these distant lands. “I remember a time when Beam was thrown into a prison for three days in Bulgaria, accused of being a spy, because he couldn’t speak the language,” he says, chuckling.
Friends and family are in consent that Beam would always be where music was.

Sequeira says he tagged along with Sunbeam for Ram Navami concerts in Fort High School and Pires remembers accompanying Beam to the first few live events happening in Bangalore. “There was an event called Rot’s Thursday at the then St Joseph’s boys’ ground, it was perhaps the first live event in Bangalore, where bands would perform from 10am to 11pm. The biggest Indian bands like the Human Bondage, Spartans, etc, were part of the event.” Though Beam never played music himself, he developed a genuine passion for it, admits Pires. Beam’s sibling Sheila says she remembers her brother catching up with friends just to listen to them play music.

In the last few years, Beam retreated from the urban disarray to Bannerghata. Garbed in a cotton kurta, his head turbaned and his Bob Marleyish dreadlocks falling over his shoulder, he spent those years close to nature, planting trees. Villagers fondly called him ‘Bheema’. Till the very end, says friend John Mathews, Beam would make sure he was at as many live music events as he could.

“He loved music. In fact, in 92-93, he organised annual rock concerts in the outskirts of the city called The Night of the Long Guitar. He would try and make it to music events as often as possible. If he didn’t have money, he would just wait outside, till someone recognised him and let him in.”  Beam wanted music to be alive and free, just like the life he lived.