Strings of Regret

A dream gathering dust

Watching a musician do his magic on stage is a treat to both the eyes and the ears. Something about instrumentalists in particular, makes me look at them with a sense of awe. The focus, the dedication, the coordination, the discipline, it’s nothing short of absolute beauty. Ever since I was little, learning to play an instrument has been on my bucket list. It remains till today.

I tried dabbling in multiple instruments over the years but I failed miserably. I just don’t have the attention span needed to sit still and practice. Watching my Dad play the Guitar made me want to learn it, but the strings hurt my fingers. Then I thought I’ll play the keyboard cause it had no need to hurt my fingers. Boy was I wrong. Then I picked up the violin which was not only hurting my fingers but also my vision because honestly, I could have a GPS and still not find the notes. I’ve tried to pursue the Veena in school as well but thought it was too heavy. Picky much? None of this worked but I wasn’t ready to give up. I found a middle-ground and chose the Ukulele at last. It’s light, has visible notes, strings not as prickly and counts as an instrument. For most parts.

Mine is beautiful. It’s black and shiny and looks regal. I managed to learn the basic chords and notes when I first bought it years ago. I play a few easy songs and I know a few strumming patterns. I can keep you entertained for a good 20 minutes.

I picked it up the other day to dust it away.

Ukulele: Wow. Didn’t know you remembered me.

Me: Of course I do. You’re so hard not to notice.

Ukulele: Oh, spare me.

Me: Alright, alright. So, how have you been?

Ukulele: Seriously? I literally sit right in front of your bed. You see me every day.

Me: I know, I was the one who placed you. I’m just asking. All good?

Ukulele: Honestly, you’re unbelievable.

Me: Hey now, c’mon. Don’t be like that. Let me clean you.

Ukulele: No. I am going to be like that.

Me: Fair enough. I’m sorry. I’ve just been busy.

Ukulele: Oh sure. I know you’ve been busy. What with all your fancy oil paints and your ink pens. You just let me gather dust here while tending to those which were literally making you go crazy.

Me: Well, in my defense, you aren’t so nice yourself. You’re so out of tune with me these days.

Ukulele: And whose fault is that?

Me: …..Mine.

Ukulele: Relationships work two ways man. Your heart just wasn’t in it.

Me: Hey I gave you the most amount of attention out of all the other instruments.

Ukulele: Oh wow. What an honor.

Me: Okay look, I’ll pick you up every weekend and we’ll go slow. Easy songs.

Ukulele: You say this all the time.

Me: I know, but this time will be different.

Ukulele: I don’t know.

Me: C’mon, last chance.

Ukulele: ….Alright. But this is the last chance.

Me: Yes. Last one. Thank you. I do adore you so much. You know that don’t you?

Ukulele: Let’s put that to a test, shall we?

Me: Oh no. C’mon. Don’t push it.

Ukulele: How do you play the Gm chord?

Me: Um…index finger….2nd fret..?****

Ukulele: Not even close. Okay D chord?

Me: Okay…is that the one that includes the pinky finger?

Ukulele: That’s it, we are done.

Me: Wait, no…

Ukulele: Next thing you know, you’ll be eyeing a curvy cello you see.

Me: What? Okay, that’s a bit dramatic.

Ukulele: You can’t just play me whenever you want.

Me: I’m not playing you.

Ukulele: Exactly. It’s been a while.

Me: Touche.

I do wish to master an instrument some day. And maybe perform on stage. Make people feel something through music. That would be something.

Ukulele: Why’d you say “an” instrument? What do you mean?

Me: I mean you, of course.

So anyway, my Ukulele won for now. It’s alright. I have hopes for a sweet reconciliation later. But really, it is important to keep some kind of sensory engagement alive these days. Anything that makes you escape time, that makes you feel alive. Everything is moving so fast that it becomes a necessity to stop and take a minute, to keep the child in us alive through these creative endeavors.

Ukulele: Oh, shut up!

Pictures from: Cosmos