It was 1969. My mother gifted this harmonium to my father on their wedding.
With his name engraved in Bengali.
About 40 years later, my mother finally parted with it as a hand-me-down family inheritance. This is more than a scale-changing reed organ; it is a sound box of memories for me.
My first introduction to music, my feeble attempts at music theory, playing tabla with my father while he sang (and I was 3) — all can be traced down to this.
At the time, this was one of the most expensive harmonium money could buy.
Now, it is priceless.