Hear Say

He bowed to his audience, and caught her eye. She waved at him from the aisle, quickly making her way through a thicket of legs, to a reserved seat right up in front.

He smiled back, and waited for her to comfortably settle down before turning around to the orchestra; the musicians bustling in excitement, their instruments quivering with and in anticipation – his patrons in the audience suddenly felt an urge to fall silent.

He raised his hands – every eye before him would obediently pluck, blow and tap to the flux of his arms; every ear behind him would obediently find music thereof.

She inched closer to the stage, seated practically and very nearly only on the edge of her cushioned seat. The evening’s programme lay uselessly in her lap; she wouldn’t need any references; she would, nevertheless, and as always, surely preserve her copy.

In a quick flurry, the crescendo rose and fell; for, within, and during the many moments of a penultimate climax, before gradually dying out in an eventual conclusion.

In a collective sigh of satisfaction and relief, the musicians remove themselves from their respective instruments, and they applaud. So for themselves, and such for him.

In an apparent and audible heave, the audience left the velvet of their seats; contributing to the magnitude of his ovation. He bowed to his audience, and smiled at her.

She walked to the stage as swiftly and gracefully as her dress would permit, the security guards nodded in recognition, she ran right upto him, and stood there, looking.

He moved his fingers and hands quickly, in apparently very meaningful gestures, for she seemed to smile in response, moving her hands and fingers in an almost similar fashion, mouthing her words carefully. She stepped away, applauding with everyone.

He bowed to his audience; deaf to their applause, but not oblivious, much as the elsewise; mute in his gratitude, but not without, much as the otherwise.

By:

Sarthak Prakash