Harmoniums
As told by Rishabh Sharma
Most people talk about knowing how to play an instrument. People who play the keyboard make up a major portion of them. As for me; yes, I can play the keyboard. I can put together a few keys to create what resembles a tune. However, for me it didn’t start with a keyboard- it started with a harmonium. For those who don’t know what that is, it looks like this:
The basic principle is that you use your left hand to pump air into the machine and then play the notes. It is mostly used to accompany the singer; a background instrument. I first learned of this from my music classes. It was this single room in Delhi, in every degree in the city of extreme climates you could find me Saturday after Saturday, trying to sing amongst clearly more talented singers. It was mostly so that my parents could use me as some kind of circus monkey, almost getting the tunes right while my relatives applauded my efforts with the most genuine smiles they could fake. I was a horrible singer. This was coupled with the fact that the teachers kept changing every now and then. Then we had this girl who joined us in 2002. Her name was Vaishali, and initially, I had a neutral view of her. Everyone else, however, was in awe of her, since she could play the harmonium. It got a little annoying after some time. One day, I arrived to find that our instructor had taken an impromptu leave. It was also the day that my father had decided to drop me to class, owing to something about bonding. I was lucky when I returned to the gate to find him still fumbling with the directions, clearly lost, but too proud to admit it. I was overjoyed, since it would mean about another hour of TV for me. We turned to go and found this girl Vaishali seeming a little lost. My father offered to drop her. She was hesitant, but eventually conceded. In retrospect, it was a very risky move but back then everyone was more trusting, I guess. She got into the car and we took her to her house somewhere relatively close to ours.
In between the journey, my father started his usual line of interrogative communication. It turned out her mother dropped her every day, but on that day, she had to leave for some urgent work after dropping her, hence, the confusion. The conversation progressed to the point where she started talking about playing the harmonium. I could not remember the exact conversation but what I do know is how I felt. Jealous- the sort that makes one almost homicidal. I decided then that I would win the approval of my father by learning the same. The next time we had classes, I asked her straight up to teach me how to play the harmonium. She obliged, and looking back, I think she was surprised at how one trip could have progressed to this.
So after every class, she snuck in about fifteen minutes of lessons by making me stay back and practice. It was discreet, and since my father had the habit of coming half an hour late from office, it could be managed. Eventually, I got good enough to ask my parents for a small harmonium to practice at home. They did not buy into the idea, and we ultimately settled on a keyboard. I got closer to Vaishali, even inviting her to my 9th birthday party (and subsequently never inviting her after that because of all the teasing from my male friends.)
Two years passed and her father got transferred to Mumbai. We said our goodbyes and eventually I stopped going to those classes. It was before Facebook and after the first few customary phone calls I never heard from her again. Facebook came after a few years but by then she had receded into some space at the back of my head, a fuzzy image. By this point, I was the go-to man in my school for all cultural events since I was the only one who could play the harmonium.
This turned me from a nobody to someone people knew. It helped boost my self confidence. I always had music in my bones, and the instrument helped give me wings.
Anyway, so fast forward to November 28th 2011 (three years and two days after the 26/11 attacks). I was flipping through my Facebook feed and found a link which took me to the list of victims. I was scrolling through the list and found a very familiar face. Yes, time had changed her. She looked… attractive now. Her name was written right below. It was clearly the same Vaishali. I realised that I had been still for quite some time, transfixed by the realisation when the screen shut down on its own due to inactivity. I let my eyes get moist and shut the window, the computer, the windows, my eyes and my mind; which drifted into the endless depth of what I could remember.
I like playing the keyboard. It soothes me, and sometimes, I find myself lost for hours on this street of black and white. My fingers walking down them- dancing would be a better word- in a calculated fashion. This is one of the first things she taught me to play in a stream of notes without any gaps. That’s how life is I suppose, without gaps just a gush of happenings. She happened, but was one of those happenings that came full circle. Sometimes I dream that I am meeting her while she is navigating Europe in a cheeky re-enactment of DDLJ. I wake up somewhere in the middle, and in between recounting the almost coherent conversation, I open the keyboard and quietly play into the rest of the night, the music bleeding into dawn.
I like people. It is the impact they have on you, the meaning they can give to your life that makes things flow. Like all of us are pebbles being polished by a stream passing over us. I am the product of a girl who helped a young boy discover himself and his identity, the most priceless of gifts; and it was just a harmonium.
Writer: Aditya Kovvali
Editor: Harshit Sarin
