Saving time...

Playing a musical instrument and riding a bike are two important activities that a human being is capable of. One helps him pass time and the other helps him save time.

The lines above are the opening lines of a well known hindi story. It was years ago that I had read this story. But even at that time, the lines seemed very apt to me, and that very day I had decided that , being human, I am going to learn both these things.

So, soon it was time to decide what instrument to pick as my chosen one. Drums sounded good but took too much space and made too loud a ruckus, other instruments were boring, till going down a list of musical instruments my eyes alighted on the name : Guitar! That was it. I would be a guitarist. I already had dreams of me with a guitar and people looking up to me with wonder in their eyes.

So off I went to a guitar shop and asked for a guitar. And the guy behind the counter wasted no time in spewing out names of various guitars available with him. Now, I had no idea what I was looking for so I took the safest way out :

" I would love to buy the best you have, but right now my budget is this much only, so give me the best I can get for my money."

He showed a piece to me and I looked it up and down, like an expert, before came the dreaded :

" You can play something if you like. It is tuned."

Now, there is nothing wrong in admitting that one is an ignoramus, but somehow that idea didnt appeal to me back then. Even now I hate admitting that I dont know something. But I always have a way out, so looking at the watch, I said :

" I would love to, but I have to be some where, In fact I should be there now. Please pack this and I will be on my way"

Close Escape.

That day I slept with my guitar next to me in bed. I had taken some books back with me but all the chords, majors and minors didnt make much sense, but I had a good time strutting away at the guitar and singing along and imagining that I was doing great for a beginner. I completely ignored the weird looks I got from the family. They were simply jealous, I told myself.

The third day, the novelty of the thing worn off to a great extent, I enrolled in a guitar class. That was when all my dreams were dashed. Weeks later, I was still struck on learning how to tune the guitar and remebering the chords. Somehow, Guitar was just not made for me. But accepting that the guitar had beaten me was something I could never do.

The solution was found in the final examinations for that year. Using that as an excuse, I stopped going to the guitar classes and began to be absorbed in books more and more, till the gutar was forgotten by one and all including me. It still adorns one corner of my room and every now and then I take a picture of me holding the thing. Good thing pictures dont speak.