Still strumming at 78: Meghalaya celebrates the timeless dreams of Lou Majaw

Shillong wore its finest weather for the night - wet pavements and warm memories, raindrops and music. The hill town, already known to hum on the rhythm of rock ‘n’ rain, tuned itself just a little higher as The Evening Club opened its doors to something more than a concert. It was part birthday, part tribute, part time-travel through riffs and memory. Presented by Mawjam Event Network and lovingly hosted by Jeffrey Z Laloo, it was titled what it truly celebrated: “Celebrate the Little Dreams of Lou Majaw.”
 

Most men count their lives in years. As for Lou Majaw - he counted his in songs, sweat-soaked stages, and quiet revolutions sparked by six strings and soul. The evening began not with fanfare, but with a short Rocumentary film, “The Platinum Gong,” directed by me (Sattyakee D’com Bhuyan) and produced by Dipak Chandra Das, which had been waiting for its premiere in Shillong since Lou’s 75th birthday. 
 

Tonight, it finally came home. Shillong watched in reverent silence as the screen filled with the untamed life of its favorite son, Lou in grainy footage, barefoot on stage, busking truths with the wind in his hair. He spoke of music not as performance, but as prayer. And everyone in that room nodded like when Uday Benegal shared his bit stating that it was Lou and Gang who were the first band to create an original album “Breakthrough” by The Great Society.

Then the lights lifted, and so did the room. Shepherd Star Najiar took the mic with a smile that knew where it came from. And there they were, Adriel Tariang on drums (a heartbeat you could dance to), Albert Ryntathiang on bass (as warm and grounded as Shillong earth), Christopher Dylan Majaw on rhythm and vocals (bearing the name, carrying the fire), and Brian Suting on keys (who made melodies float like fireflies).Opening with Lou’s gentle anthem “Almost Beautiful,” his voice folded into the heart of the room like a long-lost letter. The chords of “Paint a Picture” followed, delicate, deliberate, spilling color into the night. Then came “Hey Little Man”, a lullaby for the lost, and the first set wrapped with “Ain’t Got Nothing At All”, delivered not in despair but defiance, like Lou always meant it. 

The room by then was filled with positive energy when Shepherd called out for Rudy Wallang. Old friend. Old soul. Old bandmate. The crowd rose like a storm as Rudy stepped up, black guitar gleaming like it knew the weight of this night. Shouts of “Rudy ! Rudy!” danced through the hall like echoes of old gigs played on school lawns and café corners. And with him came Leon Wallang son of the groove, joining hands across generations. Keith Wallang, took charge of the drums.
 

Rudy opened his set with “Come Home” and it felt like Lou’s music, their music, had just done that. Then “Another Dream”, a song that felt like a highway at sunset. And others followed, unnamed here but not unloved, as each note told a story etched deep in the city’s soul. But nothing prepared the room for what came next. The stage dimmed. A hush fell. And then… he arrived. Lou Majaw, The Bard,  The denim-clad dreamer with a big heart !
 

He took charge of the performing area with the swagger of someone who never chased the world but had it chase him. “There’s more to life than living,” he growled, half-statement, half -anthem.  And with that, he roared into “Can’t Help Falling in Love With You.”
 

The crowd didn’t sing along. They joined him. Every single voice. As though the city itself had formed a choir. Lou smiled, like he always does, not for the applause, but for the connection. What followed was a masterclass in rawness. “Set Your Soul on Fire,” “Searchin’,” each song was less a performance and more a reckoning.
 

Then, in a moment that broke rhythm but not magic, Jeffrey Z Laloo stepped back on stage. The owner of The Evening Club, the dream - weaver of this whole affair alongside Eddie (Lou’s nephew)  brought out a cake. It wasn’t fancy. It was real. Much like the man it honored. The cake was cut amidst loads of  cheers and  Lou laughed, hugged every musician, and even gave the sound guy a fist bump. That’s the kind of man he is - one who doesn’t forget the guy behind the knobs.

And then, instead of winding down, the night turned up. What followed was not a finale, it was a celebration. Lou, Rudy, Leon, Keith, Shepherd, Adriel, Albert, Christopher, Brian… all on stage. Voices mingled. Guitars tangled. Drums rolled like thunder. Feet stomped. Bodies danced. Someone’s drink spilled and it was magical Because that’s what Lou does. He gives you the permission to feel the act completely.

The music didn’t stop, it became the air. And when it finally, finally came to a close, they all stood together. All the musicians. All the magic. One final bow.
 

The crowd? They weren’t ready. But they knew this moment would live on.


And just before the lights came up, someone shouted: “May you stay forever young, Bah Lou!”  And you know what? He already has. Lou Majaw. 78. Still strumming. Still singing. Still stirring the little dreams in all of us. Because in a world that keeps chasing bigger, louder, and faster, Lou reminds us that his  small songs, the ones about love, loss, longing, and laughter - they’re the ones that stay.