RR
29th March 2007, 09:39 AM
Genes
- Sridevi
His mind was on the other side of the wall. A woman was playing on a veena in the next house. Only a woman who must have got music in her veins can play like that. Was it a girl or a woman, he did not know. Or it could be a man or even a boy. Nowadays boys also have started taking music seriously. The music came melodiously and rhythmically. He recognized the song. It was one of the popular strains by the poet Bharathi. The tune called to the child in the most enduring manner. The child is the parrot, a treasure for the mother. Or it could be the god to whom the song was addressed. Who knows what the poet really intended? Interpretations can vary. Can they go near the truth?
The music had stopped. He tried peeping over the wall to see who was playing. He couldn’t see any thing. The tune must have come from the inside of the house, as he did not see any one in the verandah. He should find out who was it.
He collected some boldness and went to the house. The people were unknown to him, as they had shifted only last week to this house. Let me find out, he decided.
“Excuse me. I am your neighbour. Can I come inside?”
A woman came out. She was around fifty. Could this be the woman, he wondered.
“Please come sir. Which is your house?” she asked.
“It is just the next house. I heard some lovely music from this house. Can you tell me who played it?”
“Oh. It was the CD player. My son is crazy after music. He does all kinds of nonsense with it. He takes away the music of the accompanying instruments and keeps only the main instrument’s music, so and so it appears as if some one had been really playing”.
- ** -
[tscii:4f9e4c3605][/tscii:4f9e4c3605]
- Sridevi
His mind was on the other side of the wall. A woman was playing on a veena in the next house. Only a woman who must have got music in her veins can play like that. Was it a girl or a woman, he did not know. Or it could be a man or even a boy. Nowadays boys also have started taking music seriously. The music came melodiously and rhythmically. He recognized the song. It was one of the popular strains by the poet Bharathi. The tune called to the child in the most enduring manner. The child is the parrot, a treasure for the mother. Or it could be the god to whom the song was addressed. Who knows what the poet really intended? Interpretations can vary. Can they go near the truth?
The music had stopped. He tried peeping over the wall to see who was playing. He couldn’t see any thing. The tune must have come from the inside of the house, as he did not see any one in the verandah. He should find out who was it.
He collected some boldness and went to the house. The people were unknown to him, as they had shifted only last week to this house. Let me find out, he decided.
“Excuse me. I am your neighbour. Can I come inside?”
A woman came out. She was around fifty. Could this be the woman, he wondered.
“Please come sir. Which is your house?” she asked.
“It is just the next house. I heard some lovely music from this house. Can you tell me who played it?”
“Oh. It was the CD player. My son is crazy after music. He does all kinds of nonsense with it. He takes away the music of the accompanying instruments and keeps only the main instrument’s music, so and so it appears as if some one had been really playing”.
- ** -
[tscii:4f9e4c3605][/tscii:4f9e4c3605]