[Short Story Love – The Sound of Music]
Short Story Love - The Sound of Music
It was my first and last phone call to him. I never spoke to him on phone ever after.
September 23, 1974:
First performance of my life – my first cry. My superstar father endorsed it as one of the best music he had ever heard – The Sound of Music – that brought real emotion out of him, the tears of happiness.
March 5, 1981:
I sang with the maestro – my father – in recording studio. There was no cut… no retake. All went so smooth, so musical that everyone was pleasantly stunned. After few seconds, a big round of applause followed by humble thanks from my father but I was busy in tasting my pink sugar candy given as a reward by music director.
August 19, 1992:
A young choreographer was insisting me to sing in front of him. His persuasion appeared abnormal and rude to me. But his father, director of the movie, intervened and requested me to sing for the dancer for a better feeling.
His stern look was making me nervous. First time there was a retake… not for recording but while singing for this dumb dancer and his joker team…
August 20, 1992:
I reached studio. The dancer was instructing actress and other assistants. I guess it was eighteenth retake. Finally he shouted, “Music”… and that was me in music… one of my best songs I ever sang… but that had no meaning until it gets the rhythmic steps of the Mr. “young choreographer”. His body was flexible… sweating… but no pause. Even his hairs were swaying on every minute details of the note I sang… my sound had no meaning without his steps… he had already entered in my maiden heart.
09:30 PM, September 23, 1992:
Best gift I ever received. He performed for me. He was in the best attire I had ever fantasized – blue bellbottom with light brown shirt with long collars and contrasting black colour buttons. The way he twisted his ankles, knee, waist, chest, lips, eyes… it totally triumphed the melodious beats of music coming out with my rocking voice. I became deaf. I could only see… the miracle… the best disco I had ever seen… Live in central hall of my father’s Bungalow.
I could not remember when music changed to Dmitri Shostakovich, my favourite, The Second Waltz. His father gently held upper part of my palm and handed over to the man of my dream… But I could feel his faltering steps… was he tired… or it was my touch and aroma that made him trembling. He politely excused him by handing me over to his father’s expert hands and took an empty chair watching me through his beautiful blue eyes.
02:30 AM, September 24, 1992:
I could not sleep. I called him on phone. He picked up the phone instantly without even first ring to complete. Was he waiting for my? I guess so. I could now feel even his breathing. I stupidly uttered, “I L.. Lo.. Lov… are you still awake?” and then quickly, “Thud”… before I could hear anything else from him except, “Hello? Hello??…”
My breathing was very heavy… It was my first and last phone call to him. I never spoke to him on phone ever after.
February 14, 1993:
It was my first valentine’s day as his bride. In the crowded central hall of Hotel de Crillon in Paris, I found only him and me… dancing again to complete our incomplete waltz on Dmitri Shostakovich.
January 22, 2012:
I am missing him… but I am happy too…
He broke his ankle while consummating his best creation for my already super duper hit song. We both were scheduled to perform live in Cannes… for award function. I wanted to be with him in hospital but he forcefully sent me to receive award for my already obvious win.
First time he and me both for the same song won best choreography and best singer female award. I was holding the black ladies (the awards) in my left hand… I took out my phone and quickly typed SMS for him… “WE BOTH WON”…
Today his animated blue eyes, that had mastered lip reading , have overweighed his soundless ears. I rang, just to let him watch my lips singing for him. I am sure he would listen through his eyes… The Sound of Music.
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