To be true I don't think I am a connoisseur of Piano. But I like it. I like the sound. But the problem is every time I try to picture a scene with the music as background; the music fails me and breaks away into some other realm.
Like this time I was picturing a guy who comes back after long time in wilderness, to meet his love interest. And as he is about to approach her, a little girl jumps out on his love interest. A smart guy comes behind her and then they all cuddle and nuzzle. The protagonist stops his advance and then as the music floats fairly on the background with single note, the guy saw little tear beads dropping and a smile snuggle across his visage as he takes a few steps backward getting back into his hide( I recollect I had pictured a dense shroud of leaves or bushes). He is happy now. He laments but miraculously contended somehow. For he believe that she will be loved now.
Till now the music aligned well with my scenery. But then suddenly when the music should have built up to show the pinnacle of his emotions, the music failed me. It breaks down and silently moves into some other direction.
This is the problem. This and also because it is so serene that sometimes I fell deep into (I will not say sleep) a trance with the images impaling my mind. Sometimes this subconscious state is wonderful but many time embarrassing among so many people. I hope no one had noticed it yet (but I distinctively felt a nudge from my friend yesterday thinking maybe I was asleep).
The experience was good as always but the more interesting moment of the day was experienced when I was waiting for my friend on bus stop. Suddenly I noticed the feet of a person standing nearby. His feet were completely wet and had left wet marks on the kerb. I was baffled to see so wet feet and looked around to see any water source but can’t find any under the nicely burning sun. And then after few seconds of rubbing his feet to the pavement, he gently slipped his feet into his brown leather shoes. It surprised me and with no other satisfactory solution to this mystery, it led me to believe it was his sweat. Well I moved to the footwear of next person. His chappal was black and rugged. But surprisingly, his feet were even more rugged and ebonized. I looked up and his face was like his slippers with crisscrossed lines smiling over the dead and effete leather. I moved to the next in row. His slippers were torn and worthless. I moved up and saw a semi clad shirt and he was scratching his chest. I again looked at his slippers. Then I moved forward. But there was no sandal this time; no chapal, no shoes; It was just two bare feet. I looked up and surprisingly the guy was in an old jeans (but not torn) and decent shirt. Again surprisingly he seems to be uncaring about his bare feet. Who knows what the story of his bare feet is? And I just wondered how many stories are resting, breathing and crossing us in every juncture. So many wonderful people and so many wonderful fables enshrouding their lives.
May be one day I will be able to capture a few of them with the perfection I desire.
- Remember.
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