The Day Frampton Came Alive in Kerala

How a Two-in-One Player and a Cassette Changed Everything

It was the 1980s, a glorious era of bad haircuts, epic road trips, and cassettes as life essentials.

My friend and I were cruising through Kerala on one of those broke-but-blissful adventures where every dosa felt like a banquet, and our cassette player was the crown jewel of our luggage. Somewhere on the way to Kodai, we stumbled into Kumily—a sleepy little town famous for spices, elephants, and, as we learned, *mystery musicians*. 

Hunger drove us to a tiny roadside restaurant, where Tamil film songs screeched from a two-in-one player held together by sheer willpower. It was an assault on our rock ‘n’ roll sensibilities, so we decided to stage a coup. Armed with *Frampton Comes Alive!*, the holy grail of live albums, we begged the cashier to let us swap the ear-piercing local beats for Peter Frampton’s *Do You Feel Like We Do*. 

Now, if you’ve never experienced this song, let me break it down. It’s 12 minutes of pure genius: soaring guitar solos, hypnotic rhythms, and Frampton’s legendary talk-box magic—a gadget that lets him “sing” through his guitar. It’s the kind of sound that makes you question reality, and we’d rewound the cassette so many times that the tape itself had started ageing faster than us.

And then, as the first dosas hit our table, in walked *him*. 

Tall, lean, fair-skinned, with a mop of flowing hair that screamed “rock star on a holiday,” he carried a battered backpack and—wait for it—a guitar case emblazoned with *Gibson*.

My friend and I froze mid-bite, jaws dangling over our sambar. One thought collided in our brains like a cymbal crash: Peter Frampton?!

We tried to dismiss it. What on earth would Peter Frampton—a man who played to sold-out stadiums—be doing in Kumily? But the more we looked, the harder it was to shake the thought. 

The stranger sat across from us, flashed a casual smile, and said, “Nice music,” nodding toward the player where Frampton’s talk-box was asking, *Do you feeeeel… like we dooooo?*

Barely managing human words, we explained that the cassette was ours, and Frampton Comes Alive! was the soundtrack of our souls.

He grinned—wide, warm, and with just enough mischief to make us second-guess reality. 

“You guys get these here?” he asked in a smooth British accent. We told him how we scoured Kovalam’s beaches, bartering with sunburned tourists to score cassettes of Dire Straits, Clapton, Zeppelin, and Bob Marley. He nodded, clearly impressed—or maybe just amused by two starry-eyed kids treating him like rock royalty. 

He introduced himself simply as “Pete” and told us he was heading to Kumarakom, then Bombay via Cochin. All the while, our eyes kept darting to his guitar case, practically screaming, *Open it, please, for the love of rock!* 

As Pete polished off his idlis and chai, my friend and I whispered fevered theories. His Gibson. His accent. The way he nodded to Do You Feel Like We Do like he really felt it. Every clue screamed *Peter Frampton*.

But the sheer absurdity of it all left us too stunned to ask. 

At the cash counter, we retrieved our cassette as Pete gave us one last smile. “Great album,” he said, in the tone of someone who might’ve played it for half the planet. Then, before we could muster a single coherent question, he vanished into the sunlit streets of Kumily, guitar case in tow, like a rock ‘n’ roll mirage. 

Was it really Peter Frampton? Or just some doppelgänger with an impressive taste in music and a love for idlis? We’ll never know. 

But here’s the thing: if it *was* him, we ate dosas across from a rock legend. And if it wasn’t, we still met a man cool enough to make us believe we did.

Either way, every time I hear Do You Feel Like We Do, I have only one answer: “Yes, Pete. Yes, I do.”

Click the below link to listen to Peter Frampton’s song here:

https://music.youtube.com/search?q=do+you+feel+like+we+do