Short Story: Waiting For The Maestro

Possible explanations: Bad weather. Staffing issue. Unruly Passenger.

바카라�Wow! How serious is it?바카라�

바카라�No cause for concern, sir. Things are under control. We바카라�ll provide an update soon.바카라�

Sipping the hot coffee, which I know will only add to my jitters and make me go to the men바카라�s room, I return to the bank of ever-flickering monitors that loom over travelers as they walk briskly in both directions, sometimes pausing to anxiously check the flight times.

Looking up at the screen, I almost drop my cup. The plane isn바카라�t late, after all, and is already at the gate! How could that be? Earlier, did an unexpected attack of dyslexia make me transpose the digits of the flight number? I abandon my still-hot cup in a trash bin and hurry down to the gate. Some passengers, having already emerged from the jet bridge, are heading towards baggage claim or the exit doors. Standing in a spot that the maestro couldn바카라�t miss, I wait until the flight crew walks out, but there바카라�s no sign of the maestro. We haven바카라�t met, it바카라�s true, but I바카라�ve seen his pictures, and none of the passengers who got off the plane looked even remotely like him. Is it possible that he disembarked and left before I got to the gate? Unlikely. But even if he managed to get out early, why isn바카라�t he waiting there? After checking the men바카라�s room and the waiting area more closely, I head to the airline counter near the gate.

바카라�We바카라�re not open yet, sir,바카라� the agent says in surprise. 바카라�The aircraft has to be cleaned and refueled. Please have a seat. We바카라�ll make an announcement.바카라�

바카라�No, no, I바카라�m not going anywhere. I just want to know if the maestro was on the flight that just arrived. Everybody got off, but I don바카라�t see him. I바카라�m supposed to pick him up.바카라�

바카라�Maestro?바카라� Frowning, she looks at me as if I바카라�m speaking a foreign language.

바카라�Sorry,바카라� I say with a sheepish smile, reaching for the piece of paper on which the maestro바카라�s name and flight number are written. 바카라�I meant to say his name . . . it바카라�s a little long.바카라�

바카라�How did you come to the gate, sir? Only passengers are allowed through security, as I바카라�m sure you know. Did you get permission?바카라�

바카라�No, I came on a different flight some time ago. So I just waited. Please, this is important. He바카라�s a visitor from overseas. I have to find him.바카라�

바카라�All right,바카라� she says, typing furiously. Then, looking up with a thin smile, she briskly adds, 바카라�I바카라�m sorry, sir. He wasn바카라�t on the flight.바카라�

I바카라�m taken aback, to say the least, but I remember to thank her before moving away.

Staring at my phone, I wonder if my boss texted the wrong flight number. The maestro, having performed in another city, would be taking this flight to our city, the boss said. Since I would be arriving on an earlier flight, could I stick around in the airport to meet him? Sure, I responded, as if I had a choice. And I asked if I should bring the maestro to his house.

바카라�No, no, take him to the hotel. The usual one. Unfortunately, I can바카라�t meet him.바카라�

It took me only a few seconds, as I reread his text, to realize why the boss couldn바카라�t바카라�or rather, didn바카라�t want to바카라�meet the maestro. He바카라�d been planning to invite him, as he usually did when a dignitary or notable artist from the native country was visiting. What changed was that another son of the native land바카라�a telegenic young pop star, with a zillion followers on social media바카라�had decided to come to our city for a hastily arranged performance. An unexpected change in his schedule had made it possible. Having two musical concerts at the same time, while unusual, wasn바카라�t considered a problem, for the audiences would be vastly different. The larger venue for the pop star would be teeming with screaming fans, while the maestro바카라�s venue, a community hall, would be quieter, more intimate.

My boss, clearly, has no time for the smaller venue. But that seems to be bothering him. As our local diaspora organization바카라�s current president, my boss바카라�a generous benefactor바카라�is responsible for receiving visiting artists. Which he has been doing enthusiastically at his palatial residence, where the artists often end up staying for a day or two. Never a big fan of classical music, the boss has chosen the pop star as his honored guest. Hosting both of them at the same time would be awkward, so the boss has delegated me to take the maestro to the hotel. Having paid for the maestro바카라�s room, my boss no doubt feels less guilty about his decision.

바카라�Maestro didn바카라�t arrive,바카라� I carefully type. 바카라�Not sure what happened. Gate agent says he wasn바카라�t on flight. Do we have updates? Please advise. Thanks.바카라�

I almost called the boss to inform him, but a sudden nervousness바카라�what if he was in a bad mood?바카라�prompted me to text, which I saw as a safer option. The early evening hours, just as he is about to have his first drink, would be a tricky time to deliver unwelcome news. To my surprise, the response is immediate, as if the boss has been waiting for my text.

바카라�Maestro missed the flight,바카라� his text reads. 바카라�Bad traffic. Person who dropped him at airport sent new flight info. Will forward. Didn바카라�t text earlier because I had to take an important call. Maestro has no phone, so stay there and go to the gate when the plane lands.바카라�

When the phone pings again, I note the flight number and walk up to the bank of monitors to look at the new arrival time. Turns out, I have another hour to kill! Will the maestro emerge from the jet bridge this time? Slipping the phone into my pocket, I head towards the food court, marveling how words like 바카라�sorry바카라� and 바카라�thanks바카라� and 바카라�please바카라� are missing from my boss바카라�s vocabulary. I바카라�m a little ticked off, mostly because I바카라�m tired and hungry.

Taking a bite of my overpriced chicken wrap, I gaze at the travelers바카라�carrying bags of various sizes and clad in a variety of outfits, from shorts to suits and flowing dresses바카라�as they stream past me in both directions, their faces reflecting the excitement of impending departure or the inevitable exhaustion of arrival. Normally, people-watching on the concourse is a pleasant diversion for me, but today, having arrived on my own flight, I just want to leave the airport, with or without the maestro, and go home.

Having eaten, I make sure my phone is properly charged before searching for the only video I바카라�d seen of the maestro. It바카라�s incomplete and somewhat grainy, with a modest number of views and no comments below. Most likely, it was recorded and uploaded without permission, because the maestro is famous for not allowing the use of electronic devices at his concerts. He doesn바카라�t perform much now, in any case, his heyday having ended before smartphones became popular. Without the urging of older fans, I바카라�m sure, this overseas trip and the concert series바카라�which is being promoted as his farewell tour바카라�wouldn바카라�t have happened.

I click on the link to watch the video, keeping the volume low. The introduction is meditative, almost like a prayer, and the maestro바카라�s mellifluous voice is suitably even-keeled. Then comes the middle section, with soaring music, as the maestro바카라�s head bobs to the rhythm of the development and his now-throaty voice gains resonance and depth, its power obvious despite the recording바카라�s poor quality. Though my phone바카라�s speakers are feeble, I can sense the specialness of his voice, which one critic grandly called 바카라�a divine instrument.바카라� To a random observer, without the audio, the maestro바카라�s gestures and facial contortions might seem clownish, but once the sound바카라�or more specifically, the maestro바카라�s sonorous voice바카라�is restored, the majesty of his performance would become immediately obvious.

Alas, the clip ends abruptly, breaking the spell. I have to get one of his CDs or audio cassettes. I바카라�m not too disappointed, though, because I plan to attend his concert.

Putting my phone down, I wonder how much of the maestro바카라�s mystique is linked to his, as another critic caustically put it, 바카라�listener-be-damned approach,바카라� which could be uncompromising. The same article said that being reclusive and standoffish was perhaps the right move, though there wasn바카라�t anything deliberate about it. The maestro didn바카라�t change his approach, regardless of what anybody said. He barely looked at the audience or smiled, even after the performance, choosing to retire to his room rather than mingle with his fans and hosts.

Shunning social media might seem counterintuitive, but the maestro바카라�s indifference to publicity is a smart move, according to this critic, because performers these days are too slick for their own good바카라�and the constant need for self-promotion makes them come across as fame-and-fortune hunters, not musicians and artists. The maestro, on the other hand, is above it all.

I바카라�m not convinced by this argument. If the maestro is being clever and strategic, even if unintentionally, why aren바카라�t more people flocking to see him? Why is he not performing in bigger venues? The fact is that the maestro chose to undertake this arduous foreign tour because he needs the money, and the only people coming to see him perform are nostalgic old-timers with fond memories of him. And those fans are a fast-dwindling group.  

The community center where the maestro will perform is not far from the huge downtown venue where the pop star is expected to draw a full house. Conveniently, for the boss, both concerts are on the same evening, allowing him to avoid the maestro.

I reach the gate just as the plane바카라�with the maestro on board, hopefully바카라�is pulling up to the jet bridge. Again, I plant myself in a good spot so that he won바카라�t miss me. This time, thankfully, he바카라�s one of the passengers and it doesn바카라�t take long for him to emerge through the doors, pulling a blue carry-on suitcase. Portly and bald, the maestro is shorter than I expected and he has an awkward gait, making him walk slower than the passengers who got out at the same time. He moves to one side, huffing, and allows them to quickly overtake him. When he gets closer, I notice that his face is flushed, with glistening pinheads of perspiration on his forehead, as if he has come from the tarmac below rather the interior of a plane.

He stops, and there바카라�s instant recognition when our eyes meet. I doubt the maestro has seen my picture, but he knows who I am. Nodding when I greet him, he doesn바카라�t speak right away. His clothes바카라�a gray jacket over dark slacks and a cream-colored shirt바카라�are crumpled, and he seems to be wobbling. Concerned, I ask if he needs a wheelchair.

바카라�No, no . . . I바카라�ll be fine,바카라� he says, shaking my hand with unexpected vigor. 바카라�There was some turbulence, you see. Maybe we can get tea and sit for a bit. I바카라�ll go to the toilet first.바카라�

바카라�Of course, that바카라�s a good idea,바카라� I say, and take his suitcase before leading him to the men바카라�s room. 바카라�They have tables at the café I went to . . . it바카라�s close by.바카라�

Having washed his face, the maestro looks more alert, though his eyes are still red and his gait still unsteady. Maybe he has an ailment that makes him walk that way. I바카라�m surprised that he travels alone and, given his condition, maintains such a hectic schedule.

바카라�Nice of you,바카라� the maestro says when I hang on to his suitcase. 바카라�I was just pulling it. The person who sat next to me helped. I was grateful.바카라�

My ignorance of his music was making me anxious, but I feel better now. He is far from intimidating, contradicting the articles I remember reading. Of course, those days바카라�when he was apparently dismissive of people who didn바카라�t speak knowledgeably about his music바카라�are gone. And age has probably mellowed him. Still, what a letdown it must be to get such a mater-of-fact reception from a novice. Great artists are usually received by adoring fans. But having long been out of the limelight, the maestro is perhaps used to dealing with folks like me.

Once he safely makes it to the hotel, a musician will take over and they바카라�ll be able to discuss matters that are more professional and less mundane. My job will be over.

At the café, I bring two steaming cups of Chai Latte to the table바카라�and for a few moments, without talking, we sip our beverages. 바카라�Wonderful,바카라� he says, sighing, and puts his cup down. 바카라�Life바카라�s little pleasures. Thank you for this . . . I feel better now.바카라�

바카라�Of course,바카라� I say. 바카라�My pleasure. This drink always cheers me up.바카라�

There바카라�s a sudden commotion in the concourse, and I turn around just in time to see the flash of a camera. For a sickening moment, I think the pop star has just arrived. But, no, it can바카라�t be unless his travel plans have changed! According to the boss, who will be picking him up from the airport, he is coming tomorrow morning. Must be another celebrity or VIP, but the entourage has already moved on, and I can바카라�t see the person바카라�s face.

The maestro, watching quietly, seems indifferent. Strangely, my first thought is to wonder if the maestro has been garlanded by ardent fans. Many times, I바카라�m sure, at least in his prime. And what about tomorrow? Will my boss felicitate the pop star with a garland or a bouquet? He certainly will, even if it바카라�s only at the concert avenue after the performance.

바카라�I had a fascinating conversation with a man,바카라� the maestro says, after draining his cup. 바카라�This was before I boarded the plane. We were sitting at the gate for a while, you know.바카라�

바카라�Did he get on the same flight?바카라�

바카라�Yes. He바카라�s a frequent traveler, I believe. He told me about a person who was living in the airport. They바카라�d even talked once.바카라�

바카라�What! Isn바카라�t there a movie that was inspired by him?바카라�

바카라�No, no, this happened recently . . . in fact, the traveler I spoke to said that they바카라�d chatted just before the man got caught.바카라�

바카라�Oh, yes,바카라� I say, remembering the incident. 바카라�I did read about it. It happened at a domestic airport, unlike the earlier incident which inspired the film. I should have known. He seemed harmless, as I recall. Maybe he was eccentric. Didn바카라�t he find an airport employee바카라�s ID?바카라� 

바카라�Yes, he did. That바카라�s how he escaped detection for weeks. But he wasn바카라�t trying to scam anybody. The traveler I met said the man had been unthreatening and friendly. Even unworldly. They바카라�d talked easily . . . about life, culture, philosophy.바카라�

바카라�Philosophy? Life? How odd. Didn바카라�t he want to return to his country? Was he afraid?바카라�

바카라�No, no, he wasn바카라�t seeking asylum or anything,바카라� the maestro says, waving his hand. 바카라�Of course, he was breaking the law. But he was naïve and, as you said, eccentric. Not a criminal. He was, you know, just spreading his thoughts, ideas, whatever you want to call them. Not through indoctrination, mind you. What I heard was that he wasn바카라�t trying to convert anybody.바카라�

바카라�Sure. Nevertheless, it was bizarre. I don바카라�t know what compelled him. It was risky . . . he could have gotten into big trouble. How did he survive?바카라�

바카라�The people he spoke to seemed to have liked him. He was gentle, personable. And I guess they liked what he had to say, because many of them shared food with him. He kept a low profile and slept in a waiting area where there wasn바카라�t much activity.바카라�

바카라�I바카라�m surprised he escaped detection for so long,바카라� I say. 바카라�Do you know how he got caught?바카라�

바카라�No. The traveler didn바카라�t know, but he thinks somebody alerted security. The airport resident was arrested and sent back to his country. I don바카라�t know what compelled him to do what he did, but I couldn바카라�t help thinking of music when I heard this story.바카라�

바카라�Music? Why music?바카라�

바카라�Because when we sing and share music, we don바카라�t know what people will make of it,바카라� the maestro says. 바카라�We hope they바카라�ll like it, of course. But we can바카라�t be sure. And we바카라�re not trying to convert anybody to a way of thinking. All we can do is spread joy . . . that바카라�s our only goal. Anyway, shall we get going? It바카라�s getting late.바카라�

(Murali Kamma is the managing editor of Khabar, a monthly magazine catering to the Indian-American community in the Southeast. His stories have appeared in numerous journals. A naturalized U.S. citizen, he lives with his family in Atlanta.)