A glimpse of beauty through
music
Music is a phantom that feeds on all vile emotion and leaves a feeling of
serenity to what seemed impossible to purge. Music is a chill that enables a
peaceful departure of the most retched of souls music
numbs the body , the mind and the soul of its wrongs and delivers it to its
creator as it first was from its day of birth as a new born baby who is
innocent in the eyes of its parents .It possesses no shape, no one could
testify to have seen this commissioner of beauty, the separator of segregation,
the rebellion that brings nations together. Music you were there when I wake
up, your there when I cry, your there when I die. It soothes the pain of any
ache no matter how deep it may go into the human psyche it casts all the
horrors one experiences and blows them into the upper levels of the
thermosphere vortexing at great speeds that make it
easier to forget your pain.
These words that define this mans' whole being that twirl and whirl consciously
through his fingers and unconsciously through his movements sat in a dark
corner sobbing silently as if he was snickering but did not want to give
himself away to a quiet crowd something beyond him had crippled his ability to
talk, he sat in front of a window facing the wall shunning the spectacular view
of the concrete jungle that he is but a minute part of, his view concentrated
on this light cast on the wall by the many varieties of light that are akin to
a big city in his hands a violin , In his eyes a playback of what horrors a
mind can founder. It was as if he was watching a movie on a projected screen
his music the soundtrack to this modern day tragedy being rein- acted on the
wall and he with a front row seat to the whole performance
It all started a week ago on a cloudy Wednesday when people make excuses not to
go to work, in the inner city, in parts of the city that are thought to
be in turmoil and destruction but not knowing the beauty concealed behind the
aging visage of apartheid architecture , he sat gazing at the outside world:
people in a rush to where god only knows playing or perhaps creating his music
that mended any loose connection between his divine trinity One without the
other was not possible , a flow of coherence had to continually be restored as
unexpectedly as day come so it was for him turning to the door to find an
admirer Listening or perhaps taking a glimpse of this beauty that
resembles her face taken salve be the many chords ,clefs and other notes
this stranger is playing but as suddenly as she appeared , She disappeared as
quickly Into crowd as if a prey scurrying from a predator with camouflage on
its side that's what he felt when he got to the door nothing of a trace or a
scent of her could be seen or heard
Music could bring the most peculiar of beauties to
your doorstep he thought to himself as he returned to his stool, black in
colour on a wooden vanished floor but this time he could not play his body
numb, his soul missing taken ransom by this elusive stranger who is swift in
her steps . The more he thought about her the more the
more he wondered what had prompted her to stop and appreciate his confession
about his heartache it must have been coincidence but in the real world
coincidence is a rarity the day came rushing to an end . He
locked up the store as safely as could be and was on his way to the taxi
terminal one thing he could not get out of his mind was the peeping tom who had
been spying on him earlier but another thing he always notices about big cities
in South Africa is that as you approach the public transport hubs the density
of people per m2 increases greatly by number until you stumble upon a
great number of people of colour and the occasional coloured and Muslims who
own shops around the terminals . you could never get lost all you needed to do
was walk in the direction most people were heading , as this was occupying his
mind a blemished red mini bus pulled up about to turn left paused for oncoming
traffic as he moves towards the rare of it corner window there he sees her, he
pauses .
It seemed strange to her too , to see this maestro
she had heard play in lower part of town hours ago, she said Hi but as soon as
the words left her mouth the taxi pulled away for a while his mind kept
spinning even though no else would noticed , his legs kept walking straight
until he found the right terminal for him to get to his destination(home), it
was Empty ,he stood a while outside lit a smoke exhaled slowly with the
expression of relief on his face he did this a couple of times the
feeling got old, he gave the smoke to the plump terminal Conductor and than
entered the taxi after he had got in, it was as if he had opened The flood
gates the taxi was filled in no time and it was on its way. When he got home it
was dark, made some food and was off to bed fatigue had befriended him and that
was it Of the Day.
He woke up slightly before dawn switched on the lights gazed at the sunrise,
there was nothing more beautiful than to see it pierce the dark, to him the
penumbra created at dusk and dawn was something irreplaceable a pleasure that
very few people in their lives Experience. He got on with his daily duties had
breakfast dressed had a smoke and was on his way ,it was a new day and with him
from the previous day he had brought the thought of this lady like a
burden but for him it was a burden worth bearing this thought Entertained him
for the entire duration of his trip until he had to start working at his
passion ,only it purged him of his evil thoughts , only it made him as innocent
as a baby born minutes ago it gave meaning to his life he kept playing until a
trance of A-minors, G-minors had taken him as prisoner: it was this bondage
that a creative man would idolise that it gave his mind this command to
commission beauty usually prison is a place synonymous with violence but
his was worth being Ideolized.Than suddenly he was
startled by a banging sound as he turned to see who it was, his eyes were
met by yesterdays beauty She looked at him said sorry and was out of sight
before he could acquaint himself with her He wondered to himself what was that
supposed to mean but none the less the day continued on its
harmonious-perennial flow his music whispering compliments that would Make any
person blush .
The scurry of a people of colour to get home displays the notion that work is a
monotony That people loath but a paradox because they work towards it their
whole lives this is a notion that can be observed globally from the barren
deserts of sub-Saharan Africa to deep industrial
Waking up to a room to a room scorching red with traces of orange
proclaiming another day has begun and in no time he finds himself in the same
position as the previous day the monotony of life could get to anyone but the
difference would be within the monotony of A job if you have love in the
midst of your job than the monotony metamorphose into an Adventure he grabs his
violin places it under his chin chest takes his bow and lets it intercourse
with the strings , it is amazement that catches his mind by surprise every time
he Plays it is as if he is unconscious of his talent when his not playing but
amidst the adventure in-twined in the monotony ,like life knew he needed
a bit of excitement in his subjective life in comes this women running
screaming Help! Help! A shriek in a her voice as if war Has just broken out,
behind her in comes this tall light-skin figure who has this intimidating
personae about him, in a cheap Italian three piece-suit lets a bullet fly from
his 9mm parabelum-black cold hard shaped steal -the
bullet aiming straight for her breast as if it knew that her life Line was
concealed by mere flesh and bone it was as a conclusion that men was created
Easily and hence can also be killed with the same simplicity , the sound was
piercing to the Ear as she goes down in his arms the opposite man leaves as he
exists he says to him Let this B**** die !! Amerilia
as she begins to fade he says what is your name Nomvula
she Replies in a very frail voice, she blinked twice each time it getting more
and more tedious To keep them open the third time was as if a gate way to the
nether world and she was Gone without a trace without a soul to mourn her
passing ,who was she , what was her Life filled with While he thought about
this a tear drop onto her face a smile came onto Her face as Thanking him for
showing the least bit of affection for her as she passes Through a penumbra
into the unknown
He sat staring at the wall his music the sound track to this tragedy of Amerilia, Nomvula as he sits
staring at the wall. He hears this knock on the door as he opens he is met with
the Words your under arrest for the murder of Nomvula!!!
Afterword
Music was created out of beauty for beauty for it to be admired that, amongst
the greatest Of triumph, the most horrific of days music was there to
exaggerate the joy or numb morbid Feelings Amidst the death, poverty, famine
and decay modern men inflicts on his common Situation Music relates beyond
class ,race or religion something that its universality is incomparable with
nothing else but consumables but those are nature's fruit , while music was
men's attempt to create his own fruits that will appeal to every situation that
life at the time revolved around till this present day .Its appeal is not lost
because its relative to the common men in the township as well as the highest
order of aristocracy all have different Tastes but its common for all to have a
genre that is most appealing to their situation Hence music is a glimpse of
beauty for modern men who is plagued by one horror after Another.
Kekeletso
Molebatsi
Your comments will be appreciated. Please
take a few moments to submit them here
Please use the
back-button on your browser to return to the submissions page, or click Home
|
Name |
Comment |
Date |
|
Louis Harris |
Kekeletso,
your work is rich and strong and in time I know will become as perfect as the
subjects you write about. In the following extract I found the following
gremlins. I would like you to take note of these because this piece is a good
monologue but can be made brilliant in its execution. Here’s
what I mean: |
2007-12-25 |
|
Music is a phantom that feeds on
all vile emotion and leaves a feeling of serenity to what seemed impossible
to purge. Music is a chill that enables a peaceful departure of the most
retched (spelling: wretched) of
souls (Place a full stop here and begin next sentence with a Cap M) music
numbs the body , (spaces need correction) the
mind and the soul of its wrongs and delivers it to its creator as it first
was from its day of birth as a new born baby who is innocent in the eyes of
its parents . (The sentence is too long) It possesses no shape, no one could
testify to have seen this commissioner of beauty, the separator of
segregation, the rebellion that brings nations together. Music you were there
when I wake up, your (You are) there when I cry, your (you are) there when I
die. It soothes the pain of any ache no matter how deep it may go into the
human psyche (full stop) it casts all the horrors one experiences and blows
them into the upper levels of the thermosphere vortexing
at great speeds that make it easier to forget your pain. |
||
|
Kekeletso
- stream of consciousness writing is not a bad thing. In fact, I write
like this sometimes. It seems to me that your words tend to run away
from you because of your excitement to get the story told. This is not
a bad thing, but you will need to watch those little things I have
mentioned. I would dearly love to see more of your writing as I do
believe you have something to say. points
2 - This writing needs a bit of
editing and/or re-writing |
||
|
James Tobias |
Louis
is 100% right in all his observations. The
only way to get around that is to study English in its purist form. |
2007-12-26 |
|
Mandy |
Thank
you for submitting this piece, Kekeletso. I agree with a lot of what Louis
has said. I would also suggest that you pay some attention to the use of
words. Please read the piece and consider it word for word, making sure that
every single word has a role and purpose.
|
2007-12-26 |