Words are deep. Words are poignant, passionate, meaningful. They clarify, they state, they symbolize, they express. But there is a world beyond words - a world so intense and thoughtful that it outreaches the boundaries of language. It is a realm where feelings cannot be stated verbally, where the Maker muted the voices. Who knows if it was a contrivance on His part to let passions flow through a different, purer medium. Hazel had never met this world before, never until she met Scarlet.
Hazel was new in town. She had just moved in. For the past three days she had been busy setting up her things and had hardly left the house. Feeling overwhelmed by the boredom of it all, she decided to go out. The shore was so near that she could hear the ocean. The splashing waves kissed the shore and receded leaving behind wet sand, some pebbles and some sea-shells. Hazel picked up her violin and stepped out. She headed toward the shore joyfully. She looked at the new neighborhood and the house adjacent to hers. The house was quiet. She wondered who lived there. The blinds were open but it seemed that the house was empty.
Hazel reached the shore and immersed herself in music. Violin was her soul-mate. The music that poured out was perfect. It seemed that the waves danced to Hazel's strings. The scene was idyllic in its beauty, blissfully melodious and content. An hour passed. As the sky turned its hue, bidding goodbye to the day, Hazel traced her steps back. She again cast a look at her neighboring house. The lights were on. So there was someone inside. Her talkative self craved to have a word with someone. She decided to knock on the door and say hello. She tapped on the front door. There was no answer. She tapped again. Still no answer. As Hazel retreated, she saw a figure peeping through the window. When the spying figure realized she had been discovered, she hid behind. Hazel waited for a few seconds, intrigued. But there was no movement inside.
The next day Hazel spotted her watcher. She was a tall beautiful girl, almost Hazel's age. Before Hazel could reach her, she disappeared again. It became like a game between the two of them. And it continued for days. The only thing that changed was that the girl would often smile back at Hazel. But she never said a word. She became dauntless enough to follow the violinist to the shore and sit through her performance. Her face would gleam with joy almost akin to ecstasy. But the moment Hazel's music stopped, the listener got up and rushed away. Hazel being of an amiable nature did not mind this at all. The only thing that poked her was that the latter never spoke a word. If only, she said something....just once....just a hello maybe.....!
One day, the bashful admirer wrote something on the sand and left. Hazel hastily read what was written. S-C-A-R-L-E-T! Her name was Scarlet. 'This isn't bad! She seems to have taken the plunge," Hazel said to herself. She felt happy. Very happy.
Scarlet did not come out the next two days. Hazel was worried. She could not play violin. It seemed that she had been playing her music for her lone bystander and without her, there could be no melody. What was wrong? Where was she? Hazel was not sure if Scarlet would open the door if she went there. But she had to find out.
Nervous and anxious, Hazel approached Scarlet's house and knocked. Those few moments seemed like eternity to Hazel. She fidgeted as she waited for Scarlet to answer the door. Then, the door opened. Scarlet stood there. She looked fine.
"Where have you been? Why aren't you coming out? I was so worried? Don't you understand? You never say anything....Do you think I am a fool? What is wrong with you Scarlet?...."
The tirade would have continued but Scarlet motioned Hazel to come inside. Hazel followed her blindly. Then Scarlet pointed at something. Hazel looked around. The room was full of paintings. It seemed like a haven of art, brilliant aesthetic canvasses decorating each and every wall. Each work stood out like a masterpiece, absorbing the onlooker by its beauty and emotional appeal. But amid all the paintings, there was one that excelled beyond measure, one that flooded Hazel's eyes - the silhouette of a girl with a violin in her hand, the azure sky as a fitting backdrop. Yes, it was Hazel playing her violin! Yes, it was she drenched, lost in her music!
Underneath the painting lay a note. Hazel picked up the note and read it
You violin is my voice. The music you play are my words. When the notes are sad, they speak of my grief. When the notes are happy, they express my delight. They are transmitters of my silent self. Thank you for giving me a voice. You do not know what you have done to me.
Love
Scarlet
Hazel did not know how to react. For the first time, she felt that she had no words to convey how her heart felt. The painting had touched a hitherto unknown chord inside her. The note left her speechless, with a heart overflowing with love. She hugged Scarlet tightly. Then she picked up the violin and started playing a beautiful composition, just for the two of them. Since words became inadequate it was only music that could complement the feelings of gratitude and fondness the immaculate canvas had induced.
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Hazel was new in town. She had just moved in. For the past three days she had been busy setting up her things and had hardly left the house. Feeling overwhelmed by the boredom of it all, she decided to go out. The shore was so near that she could hear the ocean. The splashing waves kissed the shore and receded leaving behind wet sand, some pebbles and some sea-shells. Hazel picked up her violin and stepped out. She headed toward the shore joyfully. She looked at the new neighborhood and the house adjacent to hers. The house was quiet. She wondered who lived there. The blinds were open but it seemed that the house was empty.
Hazel reached the shore and immersed herself in music. Violin was her soul-mate. The music that poured out was perfect. It seemed that the waves danced to Hazel's strings. The scene was idyllic in its beauty, blissfully melodious and content. An hour passed. As the sky turned its hue, bidding goodbye to the day, Hazel traced her steps back. She again cast a look at her neighboring house. The lights were on. So there was someone inside. Her talkative self craved to have a word with someone. She decided to knock on the door and say hello. She tapped on the front door. There was no answer. She tapped again. Still no answer. As Hazel retreated, she saw a figure peeping through the window. When the spying figure realized she had been discovered, she hid behind. Hazel waited for a few seconds, intrigued. But there was no movement inside.
The next day Hazel spotted her watcher. She was a tall beautiful girl, almost Hazel's age. Before Hazel could reach her, she disappeared again. It became like a game between the two of them. And it continued for days. The only thing that changed was that the girl would often smile back at Hazel. But she never said a word. She became dauntless enough to follow the violinist to the shore and sit through her performance. Her face would gleam with joy almost akin to ecstasy. But the moment Hazel's music stopped, the listener got up and rushed away. Hazel being of an amiable nature did not mind this at all. The only thing that poked her was that the latter never spoke a word. If only, she said something....just once....just a hello maybe.....!
One day, the bashful admirer wrote something on the sand and left. Hazel hastily read what was written. S-C-A-R-L-E-T! Her name was Scarlet. 'This isn't bad! She seems to have taken the plunge," Hazel said to herself. She felt happy. Very happy.
Scarlet did not come out the next two days. Hazel was worried. She could not play violin. It seemed that she had been playing her music for her lone bystander and without her, there could be no melody. What was wrong? Where was she? Hazel was not sure if Scarlet would open the door if she went there. But she had to find out.
Nervous and anxious, Hazel approached Scarlet's house and knocked. Those few moments seemed like eternity to Hazel. She fidgeted as she waited for Scarlet to answer the door. Then, the door opened. Scarlet stood there. She looked fine.
"Where have you been? Why aren't you coming out? I was so worried? Don't you understand? You never say anything....Do you think I am a fool? What is wrong with you Scarlet?...."
The tirade would have continued but Scarlet motioned Hazel to come inside. Hazel followed her blindly. Then Scarlet pointed at something. Hazel looked around. The room was full of paintings. It seemed like a haven of art, brilliant aesthetic canvasses decorating each and every wall. Each work stood out like a masterpiece, absorbing the onlooker by its beauty and emotional appeal. But amid all the paintings, there was one that excelled beyond measure, one that flooded Hazel's eyes - the silhouette of a girl with a violin in her hand, the azure sky as a fitting backdrop. Yes, it was Hazel playing her violin! Yes, it was she drenched, lost in her music!
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| Painting by Nitish Sanan |
Underneath the painting lay a note. Hazel picked up the note and read it
You violin is my voice. The music you play are my words. When the notes are sad, they speak of my grief. When the notes are happy, they express my delight. They are transmitters of my silent self. Thank you for giving me a voice. You do not know what you have done to me.
Love
Scarlet
Hazel did not know how to react. For the first time, she felt that she had no words to convey how her heart felt. The painting had touched a hitherto unknown chord inside her. The note left her speechless, with a heart overflowing with love. She hugged Scarlet tightly. Then she picked up the violin and started playing a beautiful composition, just for the two of them. Since words became inadequate it was only music that could complement the feelings of gratitude and fondness the immaculate canvas had induced.
(Like my posts. I feel good. Leave me a comment. I feel great!)
[Visit http://www.top10reviews.in/ for interesting articles.]
