How I bought my violin?

There are somethings in life that are just not meant to be. You feel almost feel a cosmic power trying to push you off your chosen path. Well, the way I bought my violin was one such experience. Even though I was thinking of taking my dad along to buy my violin, somehow it was not meant to be. In the end, I had to go alone. I went to a famous musical instruments show room one evening and the minute I entered I felt my hair standing on ends, one of those times when you get goosebumps for no reason. I walked into the violin section and met this expert. He was sitting like a sage waiting to enlighten me. A knowing smile and a nod now and then, thoughtful pauses that made you hang in space for just a few seconds; had it been fantasy, I would have called him the keeper of the destiny of all the violins in the world; in real life he was aptly called master.

He asked my budget and then carefully took a Chinese violin. I liked it and asked it to play a tune, but I wasn't satisfied. Another piece was brought out from a dusty storage room and I knew that was it. When the case was placed in front of me and gently opened, I felt like I was witnessing something as magical as the prince of darkness waking up from a long slumber. When I shyly touched the surface, I felt a shiver of anticipation run up my spine. I had eyes only for it and I felt he was saying something to me. First I thought a violin could only be a she, what with all the curves and the screeches when played badly, but then I changed my mind when i saw this piece at close range, beneath all that delicate features, there was an underlying strength and resistance. I knew I have to win every bit of music out of him. When the master tuned him and started playing a sample, i felt mad with jealousy. I picked up a book on some basic tunes and walked to the counter.

This is where I think my luck ran out. There was something wrong with the card swipe machine and they asked for cash, I didn't have any cash but just my card and when they, rather rudely, asked me to draw some cash somewhere and then comeback, I was sad, angry and bewildered all at the same time. The master intervened on my behalf but there was nothing to be done. The woman in the counter simply called to an assistant at the back and said, "take this inside," I felt a sudden lump in my throat, I couldn't swallow. Hastily, I ran out of the shop and got into the waiting auto that had brought me there. From there on for nearly 5 mins my mind refused to accept the situation, but even so I was getting furious by the second. What was a lump in my throat had melted and evaporated into rage.

Regardless of the time or place, I instructed the auto driver to go to another shop on the other side of the city. Inside my heart I screamed at fate, "I wanted to buy a violin and I will, whatever you do I will not go home without it." The traffic was unusually heavy, we were stuck in every signal possible and we lost our way, but eventually after an hour's struggle, we made our way to the shop. It was a small shop and while the auto driver leaned back with a sigh, exhausted, I walked up the stairs into the shop with great conviction. I told myself, "if its meant to be like this, it will be", all the while not believing it a bit."

There was no master here, the whole place was cheerful and people walked around the brightly lit shop as if they were children in a toy shop. An assistant walked up to me and asked me what I wanted, when I told him, he just pointed to a rack on which were hanging several violins. I picked up one and asked the assistant to try it, surprisingly, he said he doesn't know how to and worst of all none of them did. In fact, I was the expert there as I am at least one session old. I picked a few and placed them back and then finally chose one of them. No vibes nothing, probably I was too hooked up and regretful about not getting my first love. I bought the same book here too and the violin was five hundred rupees less than the one I chose in the other shop. Without much fanfare I bought the violin and started heading back home. All the way, I was having mixed feelings. I still question if it would have been wiser to have just drawn the cash and gone back to the first shop. I regreted that i wont see the master again and most of all I cursed myself for not getting what I felt was waiting just for me.

Once back home, I stepped into my room and locked the door. I opened the case and took out the violin, he wasn't as light as my first love but he was good. He had a kind of coolness and serenity that seemed to calm me. As I took the bow and applied the rosine, I felt a kinship with it. Here was one who was considered not good enough by his own owner and yet when I tested the bow on the strings, it pulsated with a kind of hopefulness and abandon that made me forget everything else.

I have found one of my own kind and just before I went to bed, I kissed him on impulse and smiled. We have a long way to go together and tomorrow will be brighter than today.

Boooooorrreeeeeeeeddddddddd!

This is one of those days when I say bored I say it with emphasis, like boooorrreeeedddd. My new office is a boring place. I feel like I am sitting inside zombie land. Rather, Zombies who can communicate only through con calls or sametime. Why is it so hard for people to talk face to face. What has society come to. People talk non stop all day; they talk over the phone, they chat and they mail but they seldom seem to notice the guy sitting right next to them.

Well, for all my antisocial behaviour, its really hard to find someone to rub the wrong way. I haven't found any form of society yet, barring my buddy who is smart enough to steer clear of irritant statements that I throw at him. I am so bored. I am itching for a good fight and that is exactly what I need to brighten up my day.

I think I should call some of my friends!

The voice of the violin

I joined a violin class and for the first time, touched and felt a violin. To someone who doesn't care to know, a violin is just a hollow piece of wood with a few strings attached. But for me, my new violin is alive. The first time I held the bow and pulled it against the string of the violin, what emerged was a screeching wail. I hope it will soon learn to talk.

Every time I watched my precious violin, I could feel the presence of bygone ages and places. The tree that should have given the wood, the horse whose hair adorns the bow, the artist who made it and the ship that carried to Indian shores. Wow, here lies a story that's all the more fascinating coz I will never know it.

Concentration camps

Today I woke up to the sounds of alarm. I did not want to face the day but I knew I have to. After the customary bath in disinfectant, I ate the same oats gruel I have been drinking for some time now. Without sugar, it was awful but it was breakfast anyway.

I was a fraction early in getting ready today. Each day I am becoming more and more adept at the routine. I had a few minutes to spare before my pickup would drag me to the camp. For a brief moment, I contemplated escape but I knew that was futile. When I don't step out on the road after the second honk, frantic calls would be made, officials alerted, and before I cross the next road, I would be traced and nabbed. All I would earn is a black mark in my monthly report. I opened the heavily censored newspaper; I found four instances of bombings of which two were suicide bombings and the glorious victory India in bowl out cricket. The bombing did not shock me and the victory did not inspire me; so, I folded the paper and set it aside; life seems to be as miserable for everyone as it if for me. I wanted to get an head start and maybe finish up in time to eat supper at home. But my pickup van had other plans. It was ten minutes late when it finally pulled into the street. I hate these daily rides. Poeple are packed so tight that you feel the fear and the despair crawling under their skins.

Our camp is an imposing one, infact it's the largest camp in the entire country where more that 15, 000 Homo sapiens labor their lives out. I showed my ID card and was let in. There was talk on the floors that a few people were stopped at the gate and they never returned again. My job in the camp is to keep tab of mails and sometimes assist in book keeping. Most of the others worked on assembling parts or generating codes and it was worse for them as they were monitored all the time.

Lunch was a weak atempt by the over-worked cooks at optimization-potato boiled, par boiled and nonboiled. Nevertheless, no one seemed to notice. There was a slight murmor among the rebel faction but even they have lost hope in fighting for such things.

As the day progressed everyone grew tense as the calls for extra time will be made. When the general did not make his usual rounds at 4.00 pm, everyone sighed in relief, after all we will be allowed to drag our weary selves home by 6.00. But it was not meant to be, the general made his rounds at 5.00 PM and was even more aggressive owning to his irritation with the minister whom he had met an hour earlier.

I shrank back in fear as he passed by and that seemed to please him. I was quickly pulled out of the line and put on the production floor. When I walked home my fingers were sore and my eyes were blurred. I was hungry but was too tired to eat. As my tired body hit the bed I prayed for a good dreamless sleep. My last thought was "things haven't changed much since the Nazies; While people were forced into concentration camps by the Nazies, today, I am forcing myself into something similar by my own choice. Does choice make so much of a difference between right and wrong?"

Days of a different kind

I did not hold a job for exactly four days. At least it was a break between my past and future job. The surprising thing is I didn't enjoy it. I was so uneasy and restless all the while. Took of to Chidambaram for a 2 days but rushed back as I was bored.

I know retirement hits people hard, but this is just a temporary break and I am only 26!