After the silence....is music

After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music wrote  Huxley. Imagine my delight when I heard the sound of the piano waft through the house yesterday late afternoon. Thiugh the notes were a little hesitant the touch was Ranjan's undoubtedly. He had had a visitor during his visiting hours (5 to 7pm) and I was discussing some office work with the girls downstairs. After his visitor left he decided to sit at his piano and play. I ran up not believing my ears. But there he was struggling with one his favourite tunes. I was overjoyed as he had not touched the piano for many months. It was nothing short of a miracle for me.

Music has always been part of our lives, the only bone of contention being how loud it should be played! But yesterday nothing mattered but the fact that Ranjan was playing again. There was a time when you could not stop Ranjan playing. I sheepishly recall the times when I almost resented it. How foolish I was. I only understood this when he stopped playing and the silence in the house was eerie particularly in the hours he normally played. In the morning before setting out to work and in the evenings. The hesitant yet magical notes that floated throughout the house expressed everything I wanted to hear.

One thing is certain: I will never stop Ranjan playing his beloved Piano!