Short Story: The Strings

The foamy clouds tap the green hills like big balloons. Petrichor from the light drizzle mixed with the바카라�fragrance of blooming flowers pervade all around. The endless green carpets of paddy fields, followed by a darker forest, extend up to the tops of the hills, where it gives way to the azure sky and the orange hue of the setting sun.바카라� 

Sitting on a crimson carpet on the long veranda, Vandana plays the veena, unmindful of the beads of perspiration sparkling on her forehead in the setting sun. Her small, delicate fingers deftly touch the strings, the limpid blue eyes not wavering from them for a moment. The ochre 바카라�chunri바카라� flutters in the wind, blocking her vision of the strings. But she continues undeterred, with no break in the flow of music, and the wind, perhaps realising its folly, blows from the other end and drops it down on her lap.바카라� 

Everybody바카라�her parents, grandparents, uncles, aunts, children and the servants in the extended family바카라�huddle around her on the carpet, enchanted by the melody.바카라� 

Her youngest uncle reaches home from the city.바카라� 

바카라�Vandana is selected to perform at the musical concert tomorrow in the city. The programme will be telecast live,바카라� he says.바카라� 

The news ushers in a wave of excitement in the till-now mesmerised small congregation.바카라� 

As Vandana receives the letter of invitation from her uncle, a faint smile appears on her face. Her mother knows that the bashful girl is trying her best to hide her glee.바카라� 

바카라�We have to start after dinner and reach the city at midnight so that Vandana can rest and be ready for it tomorrow. Now Vandana, pack up your things and get ready,바카라� the uncle says.바카라� 

Vandana runs to her room, leaving her excited family members. Her mother appears from behind when she is looking in the mirror. Turning around, she leaps at her, barely able to hide her excitement. 

바카라�I will perform at the concert!바카라� She screams.바카라� 

바카라�Yes, my dear and many more such concerts will follow,바카라� her mother assures.바카라� 

They set out soon after dinner. Her Veena takes up most of the luggage space in the rear of the vehicle. As she turns around to glance at it from time to time, her father almost laughs at her.바카라� 

바카라�Your instrument is safe dear, and it can바카라�t run away from you,바카라� he said.바카라� 

After the vehicle takes a bend around the hill, the sky with the sparkling stars gets covered with dark clouds. The thin air soon becomes moist and turns to gusts of wind, as if the hill had held them captive, and now chooses to unleash it at them.바카라� 

Vandana looks ahead, the headlights cutting across the looming darkness on both sides, and the driver finds it difficult to keep the car on the road. The branches of the trees look like the trunks of some large elephants as sudden lightning illuminates the horizon time and again.바카라� 

***

She wakes up and looks around. The white, green and red colours; the transparent liquid and glass tubes, the known yet unfamiliar smell in the room immediately tells her that she is in a hospital bed.바카라� 

She hears the hushed voice of her father, talking to the doctor.바카라� 

바카라�Don바카라�t worry. She will survive바카라�she will be alright. There is only some minor injury on her head which will heal soon.바카라� 

바카라�What about her hands doctor? They are in bandages.바카라� 

바카라�Her hands are alright; the fingers are crushed though.바카라� 

바카라�What ....! Will she be able to play the veena? She has a concert in the evening.바카라� Her father blurts out.바카라� 

바카라�Ah...바카라� The doctor clears his voice and continues, 바카라�We will see once the bandage is opened.바카라�바카라� 

***

She doesn바카라�t play at the concert. She never does it again. Her head and the hand heals with time, but not the fingers. They remain still and straight.바카라�바카라� 

In the initial months she would often look at the Veena atop the divan, her wistful eyes betraying the turmoil inside her바카라�the longing to strum the strings and her gaze would involuntarily shift to her straight immobile finger, much like the straight strings of the veena, till one day the musical instrument is not to be found in her room. 

As she moves towards her parent바카라�s room to enquire about it, she hears them talking. 

바카라�바카라�It would only make things difficult for her,바카라� her father says.바카라� 

Vandana stops, retracing her steps.바카라� 

바카라�What바카라�s the point of having it when you can바카라�t play it? Why don바카라�t you learn to sing instead, my dear? You have such a wonderful voice. 바카라� Her mother reasons later.바카라� 

But it is the strings that always draws her attention바카라�the plastic rope used to dry the wet clothes on the roofs, its weight wilting it down to a curve notwithstanding, the small ones with which the children play hopscotch, the television cables that criss-cross the houses or even the leash of the dogs, especially when it barks and pulls it, making it straight.바카라� 

바카라�One day, surely you will play it again, my dear바카라�바카라�바카라� 

바카라�You never know when it will be바카라�but time will come when you will play it again바카라�바카라� 

She would listen to these words바카라�from her parents, her other family members, friends, relatives.바카라�바카라�바카라� 

바카라�Are they words of commiseration and sympathy? Or is there any shred of truth in it?바카라�바카라� She often wonders. And with time she stops thinking about it.바카라� 

At times, she would look at the sky, the patterns that the gray, blue and dark clouds make. More often than not would find her veena there바카라�the round, oval mass tapering onto the long and erect cylindrical form. Looking hard, she would also successfully locate the small, intricate yet invisible lines of the strings in the blue sky just above it.바카라� 

After the searing heat of the summer, sporadic clouds appear in the sky for the first time that day. They hover around the sky during the day. But as night approaches, they transform into a dark, thick unitary mass.바카라�바카라� 

She sits on the balcony throughout the day, witnessing the azure landscape being enveloped by a sepulchral darkness until her mother calls for dinner.바카라� 

She is restless in her bed.바카라� 

Tucked away somewhere in a remote corner of her memory, it comes riveting back, ready to sweep her with all its fury바카라�the accident.바카라� 

The sound of the thunder and the ceaseless tapering of rain echoes inside the room. Getting out of her bed, she goes to the window and looks out.바카라� 

Outside, the spasms of lightning dazzle the horizons. The thin road passes through the now waterlogged paddy fields, takes some bends, and finally gets lost somewhere near the hills. She finds the newly installed large poles at equal intervals for electrification by its side.바카라� 

And then ...she also sees something else, faintly discernible in the intermittent lightning.바카라� 

바카라�You never know when it will be바카라�but time will come when you will play it again바카라�바카라� 

Everybody has assured her that one day she will. Time will surely come.바카라� 

The time has come. 

Straining her eyes, she sees it there, atop the pole, bisecting the dark, expanding skylines.바카라� 

The cable바카라�the wires바카라�the strings바카라� 

Yes, there바카라�that바카라�s where it is바카라�her veena, inviting her, enticing her. Today, she will play it... 

But it is so high up in the air! How can she reach it? 

Her eyes glistening, she runs down the stairs and grasps the ladder resting on the wall. She opens the doors, its creaking sound making no audible impact in the thundering sounds outside, and sneaks out into the night.바카라� 

 
A geologist by profession, Sanjaya Mishra also writes stories. His works have been published in numerous magazines and anthologies.바카라�