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The last 5 minutes of the evening class are always the hardest. Trying to summarize a three hour class in those 5 minutes when our attention is already somewhere else, is really tough. As we wrapped up the discussions, I started packing my stuff. The laptop charger went in first and then the papers. Time up, laptop closed and put away in my bag, I rushed out of the building. It had been a long day and I was eager to get back home to my love. I was actually very hungry too. As I descended the flight of stairs into the Blue Line train station, I saw many students waiting to catch the train. The train rolled in after 5 impatient minutes and swallowed all the souls on the platform. The ride was boring as usual. Everyone around me was dead tired after their long day. Some were yawning while some were already asleep. I stood by the door, waiting for my stop - Jackson station. "This is Jackson. Please change here for the Red Line train." Obediently, I got off and tried to dodge my way through the wave of people walking towards the Red Line train station. There was oncoming traffic too - people who had got off the Red Line and were trying to catch the Blue Line. Everyone was in a rush. I was in a rush.
As I ascended the stairs to the Red Line station, a beautiful music filled my ears. It was some sort of a violin-like string instrument. My hurried steps slowed down and the music lifted me through the final flight of stairs. I saw an old man sitting just a couple of steps away from the stairs and playing a 2-string instrument. He had his cassette player churning out karaoke tunes one after the other and he was adding his beautiful composition effortlessly. I stared at him for 5 minutes. His left hand deftly plucked one string or the other, at particular points. Sometimes two fingers touched the same string at two different points. With his right hand, he effortlessly guided the bow over the strings. The smooth movements of his hands with sudden rapid motions in between to match the tempo of the music, made it look like his hands were dancing to the beautiful tune. It was hard to believe that I was not at a concert but instead standing in a train station waiting to catch my train. As I re-entered my real world again, I looked around and saw that other people were also watching him play. The platform was crowded but no one clapped when he was done playing one composition. The old man had his suitcase out in front of him, open and requesting alms. My hands instinctively reached out for my wallet and I pulled out a dollar. I dropped the dollar in his suitcase - my offering in return for the soul lifting music that he was playing. He bowed his head acknowledging the donation and continued to play. This time I clapped when he finished his composition. He looked at me and gave me a huge smile. I could see his shining eyes, squinting behind his glasses. The cassette player jumped to the next track and he focused his attention on the strings once more. I looked around. No one was really paying any attention to his music. He was just another street musician playing to himself. Most people had their headphones on and were oblivious to what was going on in the Jackson Red Line world. They obviously did not care much about a live human playing in front of them. I clapped again but I was the only one. There seemed to be just two people on the platform - that old man and me. It was strangely lonely.
And then I saw a young couple walk past me towards the old man. The girl stopped in front of him and reached inside her purse. She was looking for something particular. Her hands came out, tightly holding on to the pennies, quarters and cents. She let them fall inside his alms bag. A couple of more searches inside the purse brought out more quarters and pennies. These ended up in the alms bag as well. Her partner was smiling and watching her in amusement. Once again, the old man bowed to acknowledge the young girl and continued to play his music. He finished his composition and stopped. The young girl clapped and the old man gave her the big smile. She looked around to see why no one else was clapping. Her face questioned the existence of the crowd around her at that moment in time. A soft melody once again filled the air and she started dancing very nimbly. A couple of quick ballet steps and then her feet stopped. Her body was still swaying to the melody. As the beautiful composition finished, we clapped. She held her partner's arm and they stood there listening to the music with a smile on their face. I moved a step closer to the old man.
His instrument seemed really old. The head of his instrument was taped to the rest of the body with a scotch tape. The strings had rusted from areas where his fingers did not dance. Splinters were projecting out from the base and the instrument seemed to be as old as the old man himself. I did not know his name. I would just remember his soul-lifting music and his big smile. He made me forget my rush and connected me to my love there and then, on the train station. I felt like I was dancing to his music with my love. My train finally rolled in. I did not feel like leaving. I did not want this experience to become a memory. I wanted to continue enjoying the present. The doors opened and swallowed me along with the huge crowd once again. As the train pulled away from the station, the old man was left alone, for real. He continued playing and the music slowly became a memory, a beautiful memory that took me to a different world and back in just 5 melodious and peaceful minutes...
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