At Its Root…

When someone plays a flute,

Its not mere wind,

which flow through the holes,

It’s his soul that surfs through,

That creates the melody at it’s heart.

♥ ♥ ♥

When someone plays a piano,

Its not mere tapping of tabs,

which strains the springs attached,

It’s the vibration of the brain,

that resonates with the fingers.

♥ ♥ ♥

When someone plays a violin,

its not mere string play,

which plays with the friction,

it’s the oscillation of heart,

that makes the friction sing.

♥ ♥ ♥

When someone plays a friend,

its not mere relationship,

which keeps it ticking all the time,

its the matching of two waves,

that mends the gap and brings two closer.

♥ ♥ ♥

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Music Trance…

Submitted to Thursday TalesTale #49

Image Credit: Roxana Enache

Image Source: Roxana Enache

 

She was meandering around in his room when she spotted the piano. She went to his house for the first time. Being an avid music fan and a singer herself she was immediately attracted to the piano. She knew few notes here and there. She lingered around it for some time thinking what she should play. But then thought of having a feel of it and she leaned against the wooden structure. Smelling the woody smell and feeling the keys she went into a trance.

 

Her mind was already playing tunes of Mozart and Bach. The sheer brilliance and melody those tunes have, made her numb for a moment. She thought of trying those tunes but refrained from disturbing the mental peace she was having remembering the original tunes. But the craving to play on good, old piano finally broke the wall and she placed her tender fingers on the keys, placing her ear on the wooden structure to get the first melody coming out of it, directly in the ear.

 

She pressed the keys one by one and tried to grasp the music coming out of it. She started to play the eight basic keys (Saa, Re, Ga, Ma, Pa, Dha, Ni, Saa) which are generally known as octave. While playing the keys, her mind surfed the musical terrain and wandered in thinking how these tunes, how this music is produced. What lies beneath this wooden plate? How by playing this key, a particular tune is produced? This was all magical for her, as magical as the green nature and the current sensation in her life, Love.

 

And she suddenly got puzzled as to what should be her first love? The music which fills her completely, the nature which is running through every single drop of her blood or the new found crush/love of her life? And to get out of this dilemma she again pushed her fingers on the keys and the keys plunged.