A great pianist's hands

“DING-DONG! DING-DONG!”

The piercing sound of the bell is ringing in the distance. Everyone eagerly gets up, slips their textbooks back into their backpacks, and heads out of the classroom. They all want to get the hell out of here and try to find some free time with their friends. I, too, get swallowed by this flowing crowd, and I let myself get carried away by it for a while. Before it delivers me out through the wooden gates, though, I hop out and head for the shabby little building situated at a corner of the school premises, apart from it all.

When I enter the music room, it is empty as I hoped, except for the various native musical instruments lying here and there. I walk past the few rows of benches it has and sit down in the row at the very back. From here, I can have a clear look at the whole music room, though it isn’t much larger than the old little hut with bare brick walls that my family and I live in. The walls of the room I am in right now are low, not standing higher than your hips, and are painted a dull yellow, which makes it look dirty. The roof is standing on four pillars. The rest used to be open at the beginning, but later they installed a metal net above the low walls and a heavy mahogany door for the very safety of the musical instruments.

There aren’t many instruments: just a few native percussion instruments(a big thing in this Asian land), a small collection of flutes, and a harmonium. You might wonder whether this little assortment is even worth the safeguarding efforts until you see something totally unexpected in this village school: a grand piano, a rich dark brown in colour, and standing in all its glory in front of the music room, making do with the limited space it’s been provided. The piano rather belonged in an opera house we learn about in international history than in this shabby old place. The sight of the lonely piano, however, reminds me of my sister.

_ _ _

When my little sister was just nine years old(in fact, on her birthday), our parents took us to see a classical concert in the city, something they had been saving up for since a long time. The concert featured some of the best musicians in the country, including a great pianist. My sister delightfully watched the grand figure of the pianist gracefully pressing down the keys and, by the end of the concert, revealed to us in a cheerful yet innocent voice that she dreams of becoming a pianist herself one day. I still remember that determination and contentment on her face like clear water to this day. From that day onwards, I have wanted to see her become not one of the best, but the best pianist in the whole world.

I was fourteen by then, and I used to(though I had had no other option) go and load the monthly harvest of coconuts from the big land owners onto the lorry for my uncle, who was a coconut merchant. This way, some money was earned to help lighten the burdens of my family and also for myself, although this heavy work disturbed my school going to some extent. But it was for the good of all of us, and it was with money I saved this way that I was able to buy my sister a harmonium as a present for her eleventh birthday. Although a harmonium is nothing compared to a grand piano, I hoped with all my heart that it would help her get started. And I was happy about what I did as soon as I saw her face brighten up upon seeing it.

But great thankfulness isn’t something that comes from words; it comes from your actions. This was something my sister was well aware of. Within a year of receiving the harmonium, she won a big inter-school music competition. The government had a program running back then to help students who were talented in music, and they chose our tiny village school to present a world-class grand piano. That evening, it was like the happiest day ever in our little hut in the heart of the village. Mom was preparing us a special treat in the kitchen, and dad was helping her, while my sister and I danced around the living room, without a care in the world.

_ _ _

The subject of all that celebration is standing tall in the music room in front of my eyes right now. The thing we have been waiting for ever since my sister said she wanted to be a pianist has finally arrived, and it is awaiting the comforting touch of a pianist’s fingers. But my sister… It is as if the elephant that steps all over and gobbles up the crops in my dad’s farm suddenly stepped on my heart. All I feel is pain, though all there is left is a void.

The weary sun has started to set by now. As the last bits of sun rays are struggling to stay alive, a vast darkness is closing in from around me, trying to drown me in itself. The sun finally sets, and I get enveloped in the shadows. It is then, as I am waiting hopelessly, that suddenly a bright white light appears in front of me. Even before I can acknowledge it, it grows to such an extent that I can barely keep my eyes open. It is as if a thousand moons have risen out of nowhere. All their moon rays, almost unbearable, radiate at me in a hauntingly ethereal way. And as I try to look ahead of me, I finally see, standing at the doorway within the immense light, my sister.

All I see is her silhouette, but she seems to be staring at me for a while. Then she slowly walks down to the piano and sits down on the piano stool. Gently, she places her hand on the fallboard of the piano and lifts it open. She sits for a while, staring at the ivory white keys glimmering in the light. Then, confidently, she lifts her arms and, with firm fingers, starts playing.

The sound of the grand piano echoes through the room and out into the open. It’s much richer than I remember from the concert, something out of this world. As she continues to play, I close my eyes and let the music take me over. Note after note, my sister plays, each with the greatest care and emotion. I could let my entire existence depend on her playing. If I were to die, if anything went wrong, I would be blessed to pass away, listening to my sister play. Yet I trust her more than anything in this world. A heavenly melody flows in, something no human being has ever been lucky enough to hear before. The waves of the enchanting music lift me off my seat and take me with it to the most beautiful places of the universe, and hidden corners in the world we have yet to discover. But every beautiful thing in the world has an ending, so does the piece my sister is playing. But it’s fine; I got to listen to her play. And I’m thankful for that. She plays the ending of her piece ever so humbly until it’s finally finished, and the sound of the piano slowly fades away into the distance, where it continues to live forever.

_ _ _

I open my eyes once again, tears streaming down my cheeks. Engulfed in the darkness, the grand piano stands, waiting for the touch of a great pianist’s hands.