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UNHEARD VOICES

The frail fingers of the twenty-something year old young man’s played the guitar strings fearlessly. No one in the street minded him. Yet he kept going on, from one string to another, from one song to another. The ambience of the street might have not been the same if he were not there. The sky and the river resembled the same, except the river was blurry while the sky was perfect in the night with stars shining like diamonds and a full-moon that crept into the mind of five year olds who wondered what were actually out there.

The man spoke nothing else besides the words to the song. People glanced at him like he was a loon who had lost a screw in his brain, but he didn’t mind them. Every now and then, he glanced at the guitar case which was kept open at a side of his feet. There were few coins and few notes, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to buy a decent dinner for himself with that money. Yet he kept moving his fingers from the top to the bottom.

An old couple sitting on the bench giggled and laughed, and at times, glanced at the loon and smiled at him. Maybe her husband used to be someone like this and she had met him while he was playing an old Rafi song.

He looked up from the case and caught her eye. How long has she been staring at me? He wondered. He changed his pace and played an old ballad to entertain the old couple. But still, the girl in her twenty-something age looked at him playing. He couldn’t read her lips, for she was far away from the lamppost he was standing under. But he could see her eyes, and they were beautiful.

He had seen her few times cycling down the street with a backpack and earphones. Today, she was on her foot, with her back-pack but no earphones. Maybe she had heard him play for the first time and was fascinated by him.

The nearby clock tower struck nine, and he knew that the show was over. He strummed the guitar to an end and slowly placed it near the lamppost. The old couple had found their way back home after tossing him a small cheque. He sat down on the sidewalk and counted the collection. The cheque could save him for few days, but for the night, he was destined to have maybe a piece of bread.

“That was music,” he heard the twenty-something old woman talk to him. “You don’t hear that every day in the radio.”

“That’s because the radios are behind rock stars and not street musicians like me,” the loon said with a smile. “Hi, I’m Jiva.”

“Prakrati,” she said as she extended her hand for a warm shake. His hands were cold, yet warm at the fingers. “How long have you been playing here?”

“Two, maybe three years. This is my usual spot, but I do play near the beach in the weekends.”

“What is it like?”

“Like paradise,” his eyes glimmered. “I have a degree in management, but writing calculations for someone else doesn’t fill my mind. So here I am, with an old guitar case.”

“I see no one notices you much,” she said with pity in her voice.

“I don’t blame them,” he said as he picked up the case. “In this fast moving world full of technology and music at your fingertip, no one pauses for a moment to listen to a street player. Who would one rather listen to, A.R. Rahman or a loon with a guitar case?”

“Valid question. I have been travelling through this road for weeks and I always had my ear-phone. Today, it got broken, and I am now happy that it got broken.”

“Listening to the nature doesn’t cause much harm,” he smiled.

“How do you survive with this much money?” she asked anxiously.

“I barely scrape by.”

“Then why do you keep doing this?”

“Have you ever taken a moment to live a life you love? A moment to chase something you love? A moment to think about who you are? Life doesn’t mean earning good money and being rich. The main purpose is to live in the moment. Past is past, it may come back and haunt you, but all you have to do is push it away, and live in the present. Enjoy the view, the music, everything. Who knows you’ll be alive tomorrow to finish that report in your desk before the deadline,” he said with a laugh. “When I play this guitar, I feel complete, and it fills my pleasure level. And when that is up, I forget about hunger. Besides, there are people who are generous to drop in cheques like the old couple who dropped in today.”

“The world is missing a great musician right now,” she said with a smile. “If you don’t mind, I recorded what you played... and I was thinking about posting it in social media. I hope you’re okay with it.”

“Not a problem,” his lips curled up. “Maybe it will help someone get over a tough time or find some purpose in this.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Prakrati said. “And yes, it will help someone get over a tough time.”

“See you tomorrow,” Jiva said. He never knew he had actually helped a woman get over a tough time of her life with his bellow.