The Violinist

It was just another faithless day of his life when he saw her for the
first time. He stood under an old banyan tree ,sharing it’s solitude
over a cigarette , trying to figure out whether he should go to office
today or should he drown himself again in the drunken forgetfulness he
is so used to. There was nothing for him in his office except some
fake smiles, false promises of security and an illusion of a blissful
normal life which he knew very well he is incapable of leading. There
was nothing for him in the bar he frequented except a night of
temporary death and a morning of guilt filled hangover. His burdensome
life was the price he has paying for not believing in a god.

But then he saw her standing beside him smiling at him and he felt
years and years of ice melting inside him and the tree was left again
in it’s solitude. In his slumber he haven’t noticed her walk to him.
What is it that she wanted from him ? What can anyone possibly want
from him ?

“hi”
“hi”
“Are you the guy who plays violin late at night?”
“Well, yes.. sorry if I have disturbed you in any way “

Violin was probably the only thing that survived his brutal onslaught
on all of his passions over the years. He never considered himself as
a violinist as he never had any love , divine or earthly for it. He
just played it every night after getting dead drunk, maybe because of
the lack of a better idea.

“ No, No, it’s not that . I have been hearing you for a long time .
You are good. It’s just….well, it’s very random. There is no
underlying structure to it “

“ Yes, it’s because I am too drunk when I play”

This made her laugh. It wasn’t a laughter of taunt or amusement but
rather of a discovery or maybe of first victory in the game she
started and he is now forced to play. He has seen many girls in his
life and he was too inaccessible to all of them. But this girl is
different. She broke through all his defenses with so much authority
and ease that for the first time in his life he doubted his freedom.

“ Do you play in a band ?”
“ No, I work in an insurance company”
“ Oh.. That’s bad”

Finally it was his turn to smile. He felt no need to ask her why it
was bad for him to work in a company. They both knew the reason and
this first sign of understanding from the world which is so used to
ignore him , filled every vein, flooded every shore inside him and he
felt like a child again willing to share every injustice, every
tyranny the world has done to him with the girl in front of him.

But nothing good lasts forever. He knew it as soon as she looked at her watch.
“well, ok.. I have to leave but I will see you around “
“see ya”

She turned for the last time wearing a smile again “ By the Way, I
live in the apartment below yours and I listen to you every night “

“ Thanks, I am honored”

As soon as she left he realized that the banyan tree wasn’t gloomy
anymore. He touched it’s rough skin and realized that he haven’t asked
for her name . The tree obviously having many more years behind it
smiled at his total immaturity in the matters of love and consoled him
that there would surely be a next time for names, that whatever her
name maybe, he will like it and wherever she belonged to he would like
to go there.

He was in the middle of his candid confessions with the tree when the
bus for his office arrived like a conspiracy. There was no point in
going to office and ruining his new found freedom with some
meaningless work which in reality noone cares about but everyone does.
The bus sounded a horn and gave a last chance to his sanity to
prevail, to warn him that he has already disrespected the bus too many
times, that he has already pushed his luck too far and the bus won’t
be able to stop for him ever again. He replied with mockery and the
bus instantly realized the futility of it’s threats, that he anyways
has no desire to board the bus ever again. The bus left in a hurry,
utterly confused and he lit another cigarette to celebrate his first
victory over this world in a long time.

His normal course of action after this defiance is to take an auto to
the nearest bar which he eventually did after much deliberation and
strong disapproval by the tree. But when he reached there he was too
scared to go inside . “ Oh come on, it’s just another bar. I will have
just few beers today , not the orgy of drinking I do everyday “ . The
cigarette shop outside the bar came as a respite. He bought his usual
pack of cigarettes and lit one looking around for alternatives. There
was a movie theatre nearby playing the usual bollywood crap. He hasn’t
seen a movie in quite a while. There was also a Chinese restaurant on
the next turn. He could try some sushi. And then there was this bar
right behind him. “ Well , what’s the rush ! I can always come back
for a drink or two after the movie “. He lid another smoke and started
walking towards the cinema hall.

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“This isn’t working” , He thought to himself. There is so much damn
boozing in our movies nowadays. He was watching the song in which the
Hero just met his sweetheart and was drunk dancing in a pub. This is
pathetic. I will rather have some whisky myself then watch this
asshole’s buffoonery. He was about to get up to leave when something
in the song caught his attention. It was a lone subdued violin playing
in the background. Hmm, symphony 5 in C minor . Can’t they create
something on their own instead of stealing from Beethoven all the time
? I can do better than these assholes . It’s just that I lack some
structure in my music. But that’s because I am too drunk when I play.
He got up immediately with a smile and left the theatre. He stopped
the first auto that came his way and headed home.


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He had a dreamy sleep. He was sleeping under an old banyan tree when
suddenly a mob of masked bandits appeared from nowhere and started
cutting the tree down. The tree was crying for help , looking
pleadingly at him from time to time. But he closed his eyes and acted
as if he was sound asleep. He was petrified by the masked bandits who
were cutting the tree ferociously with their sharp hacksaws and
shouting obscenities. He was too scared to stop them. What if they
leave the tree and charge at him instead with their hacksaws. So he
acted dead and opened his eyes only when the mob , after finishing
their job left jubilantly in a bus. He saw the caress of the trunk
less tree lying around him and fell into tears. He was crying like a
child , filled with remorse and guilt. Just then he felt a soft hand
on his shoulder. It was the most beautiful girl he has ever seen in
his life. She smiled at him and gave him a box. “ Don’t worry , you
just use whatever is inside this box and the banyan tree will grow
again in no time “. Then she left , even without telling her name. He
opened the box and found a violin inside it.


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He woke up at midnight and sat idle for a while thinking about the
dream he had. He tried hard to recreate the face of the girl he saw in
the dream but couldn’t go beyond a hazy faceless face with fluid
indications of a nose and eyes. But she certainly had black hair and a
beautiful smile. Yes he is sure of that much.

He flipped through the records for a while till he found what he was
looking for. Etta James at last. Nothing can be more apt for the
moment. He just needed a midnight shower to shake the day off him. To
make things perfect. Perfect for what ? Perfect to use the box a dream
gave him.

After the shower he sat down with his violin. What should he play now
? He was never troubled by that question before and this realization
surprised him. How can he play for so many months with no particular
song in mind. He often started with one song and ended up playing
other with lot of absent-minded unwanted and unpleasant alcohol
induced improvisation in between. He never loved to play nor did he
had any care for the deaftones coming out of his fiddle. No doubt his
music is as random as his life. Not anymore , he thought and picked up
the bow. Vivaldi ’s four seasons . Yes, definitely . That’s a great
one to start with. Summer always made him nostalgic with all it’
desires and latent fury embedded in notes. Surprisingly he remembered
the notes correctly. The quiet beginning bursting out into a
thunderstorm eventually. He remembered the joy he felt the first time
he was able to play the composition without a mistake. He was a kid
then, full of life and spring. Yes he will definitely play spring
after summer is over. As soon as he closed his eyes he found himself
playing in an opera. Soon he discovered he was no longer in command.
The bow moved on it’s own hallucinated by the music it created. He
can’t control his hand. Nothing can stop it now. The symphony needs to
be completed at any cost. What a beauty ! . He felt himself in the
audience marveling at the divinity of music which his body played like
a coup, like a revolution to free itself from his hold. He played
spring, then autumn and winter . It can’t be any better, he thought.
He was giving the performance of his life. He started crying as he
played the Mendelssohn Concerto. His fingers were in pain but he
didn’t felt it. All he could hear was an overwhelmed crowd in tears
clapping like children for the serenity gifted to them by a violinist.
But the crowd didn’t interested the violinist so he kept on playing
ferociously with his eyes searching the theatre like a hungry beast.
His fingers were bleeding and the crowd became stunned, too shocked to
breath, But he kept on playing. Nothing can stop him now till he gets
what he wants. He left the classics behind and started with his own
unwritten notes which slept inside him patiently for so many years
only to come out at his hour of redemption. He looked at the door of
theatre inside him and saw the most beautiful girl he has ever seen
smiling at him with tear filled eyes. She had black hair too. He felt
the massacred banyan tree coming back to life with nascent green
leaflets of tomorrow.