Journey

The old man sat under the colourful evening sky with a gentle smile, his eyes closed as he sang a gentle tune to accompany the plucking of his Sanishen. Numerous passers-by stopped to take a moment's rest, enjoying the rich sound that filled their ears as they stood on the humble path. The man was pleased to see such a fruitful result of his music, and each song's strength only ever increased.

The listeners showered the man with applause as a song ended, placing numerous coins in his hat as a modest payment. He bid them all a good day before his next song began with the revitalising breeze.

Night had soon fallen and the man stood up to go to his temporary shelter. He picked his bulky but fairly light bag onto his shoulder after his instrument was safely fastened, although was soon stopped by a gentle pat on his arm. He slowly turned around to meet the gaze of a shy girl, who seemed about eighteen.

"Hello uncle," she said slowly with a pursed smile, and the man returned it warmly. He was about to reply but decided to remain silent. He suddenly realised that she had been listening to his music for the past hour.

"If it's alright, may I know where you are headed? Your songs today were beautiful and I'd love to help you with your bag."

"Oh dear, that's really not necessary-" the man was interrupted by the girl's firm shake and gave her a defeated smile. "I'm headed to a small hotel around the corner." He carefully removed his bag and the girl took it effortlessly, wearing the straps as they began to walk.

"Thank you very much for your help and compliments, it adds a lot to my day," the man said cheerily. 

"Are you a travelling musician of some sort, uncle?" She asked softly, her eyes filled with curiosity.

"Yes, you can say that. You'd think all this walking around would do some good to my belly but as you can see, it's as round as ever!" He said with a hearty chuckle and the girl gave him a confused smile.

"It must be wonderful life, though."

"It's certainly very rewarding," he said with a humble smile. "To wander around the world's natural wonders, lift the spirits of a person with my music and have fulfilling moments with kind people such as you is a gift."

The girl gave a shy and pleased smile, not knowing what to say. The two walked in silence for a while, though it was soon broken by the man's soft tone. 

"Do you take interest in music?"

"Oh yes!" She replied immediately in quiet excitement. "I've been playing the Veena for a very long time and I... I wish to pursue it for the rest of my life. But my grandmother objects to it... she thinks it is only suited for beggars and will leave me poor and alone. She doesn't understand that it is only with music I am never lonely."

The girl stared at the uneven gravelled road, her spirits falling immediately. However, the old man's smile did not fade and he replied in a comforting manner.

"Your grandmother is only looking out for you, it is difficult to survive well in the world when you are pursuing your interest. However, if you convince her of the beauty of music, perhaps she will understand your feelings."

The girl pursed her lips but smiled, giving a small nod. She wasn't sure how she could do that, but she wasn't ready to give up.

Immediately an Oh! expression came on the old man's face and the girl found it funny.

"How rude of me! What is your name, young lady?"

"Iraja," she said with a chuckle.

"A gentle name for a gentle spirit," the man said with a satisfied smile.

"You don't know that..." she said in a an uncertain tone, but the man firmly shook his head. 

"That is my first impression."

The girl gave a soft smile and nodded her head with gratitude. Suddenly, the same Oh! expression came on her face too.

"I'm sorry, uncle, for forgetting to ask too. May I know your name?"

"Hiro," he said with a gentle chuckle. He came to a slow stop and gazed up at the sign of his hotel, and looked back to the girl.

"Thank you very much for your generous help, Iraja. I am sure you will soon figure out your path and have your grandmother's blessing. Our time today has truly been a memorable one though I admit, a cup of tea would've made it better! Unfortunately the tea at these hotels is like cold milk and water!"

Hiro looked disappointed and Iraja shook her head with a soft smile. She helped him in till she found someone else who could assist Hiro.

"Thank you, uncle. I will certainly heed your advice," she said with a shy smile as she turned away.

"Good night uncle!"

"Good night, dear," he said softly before heading towards his room. The hotel provided him with a simple but wholesome meal of dal-chawal and fried rice. He went to his room and sat in a cross-legged position for a while till he felt drowsy and lay on the bed, drifting into a deep sleep.

The next morning, Hiro went out on the street again and began his day with his merry tunes. It was his last day in that village. Not long after he began did he spot Iraja, though she didn't appear to pay much attention to him. She walked with a much older woman who wore a simple blue saree and a frown on her wrinkled face. The sun was bright but the breeze ran gently, creating a livelier atmosphere that didn't seem to effect the woman much.

"Dadiji, let's listen to the uncle here," Iraja urged her grandmother softly. The old woman wore a disapproving look, though she had to stop when she saw the shine in her grand-daughter's eyes. She gave a slow nod and the two stood before Hiro.

Iraja radiated an aura of happiness, although her dadiji was still wary, keeping a tight expression throughout the performance. However, her face momentarily melted into the smallest smile as Hiro's performance made its way through her heart and melted an old memory; the first time she herself played the harmonium. Of course, both Iraja and Hiro saw this.

Hiro was drowned in applause the moment his song ended, but the woman immediately walked away. Iraja looked disappointed and hesitantly followed her grandmother. She turned back to see Hiro who gave her an encouraging nod, then continued to show his gratitude to his listeners. 

"Dadiji," Iraja said slowly and carefully. She was unsure of the right words for the moment and blabbered whatever her instincts dictated.

"Can we invite uncle for tea? Right now? I'd love to show him my Veena, and he greatly appreciates tea!"

Iraja's grandmother turned towards her as sharply as her frown, though it melted at Iraja's pleading expression. 

"Alright, dear."

Iraja wore the brightest smile and immediately went towards Hiro, who was still accepting coins from his listeners. He humbly accepted her invite, although was surprised when he was asked to go immediately. The old woman had already walked a considerable distance and Iraja decided to stay behind with Hiro and guide him home slowly. 

The two soon arrived at a small but tidy independent house. Iraja slid open its gate and gestured Hiro to follow in, then slowly opened the wooden and polished brown door to a cosy small and empty entrance with two chairs and a small box to store things that were used frequently. Hiro removed his slippers and gave a polite bow before entering the house with a gentle smile. He stood in a wide and largely empty hall, giving it a very spacious feel, though in its middle sat three couches and a large centre table, all of a simple brown and yellow that were placed on a deep brown rug. On the farther end of the hall was a simple brown dining table.

 The hall was silent other than the sound of utensils that came from the kitchen connected to the hall, which also connected three other rooms.

Iraja invited him to take a seat and he slowly approached the venue, sitting silently. She went into the kitchen to help her grandmother, soon returning with her and three cups of classic chai. Hiro respectfully stood up and gave a bow before accepting his cup of tea and sitting down once again.

"I hear Iraja plays the Veena," Hiro said softly after taking a silent sip of tea. Iraja looked both fearful and hopeful.

"Yes. It has been her favourite hobby since she was four."

Many long moments of silence passed before Hiro thought it was the right moment to break it softly. "I've heard Iraja is considering turning it to her life's work."

The woman exhaled sharply. She knew this was the primary reason Iraja asked to invite the man, and she couldn't help but admit she was curious about the man.

"Iraja, please go to your room."

Iraja's face fell but she obeyed her grandmother. She looked towards Hiro and he gave her a reassuring nod before turning back towards her grandmother.

"I am not sure if I should be telling you this..." She started in a wary and melancholic tone. "I, too, have loved music since the day I was born. I started learning the harmonium before I could walk. I loved to play and sing for people and they loved to listen to me. However, in this country or even in the world, it is hard to survive and be respected with music. My father made me marry as soon as I was of age and my husband, son and his wife have had to work hard every day. Now my husband is dead and my children are busy making money for survival and for Iraja. I cannot let the money spent on her go to waste; she is my only grandchild and she must lead a happy life."

The silence that passed was deafening, though Hiro's smile never once faded.

"Happiness is very subjective. You know her better than anyone but I think she is logical enough to do more than survive with music, especially is she is mentored by you. Music runs in her blood, I think, and perhaps she will guide you back to it."

The grandmother's gaze softened and she stared at the brown rug, sentiments and logic putting her mind in deep confusion. She briefly caught her grand-daughter's hopeful eye as it peaked out of a deep blue curtain, before shifting her gaze towards Hiro's.

Such sorrow, such pain... yet music keeps him sincerely happy. I am sure of it, I can see it. She remembered her own days with music. Full of joy...

Grandmother sighed softly and gave a small smile. "I will think about it," she replied softly.

Iraja immediately ran out of her room happily, though was immediately embarrassed. She excitedly called for Hiro to come in and listen to her play, and Hiro gave a gentle nod. He looked towards Dadiji and gave the same nod.

"Thank you for your tea, it was a true delight," he said with a smile.

Dadiji returned the smile.

- - - -

The man walked down the streets of a foreign town, its streets full of vigour and having a rather powerful aura. His bag was now much lighter and hung comfortable on his shoulders while he walked and played his Sanishen wearing that humble and cheerful smile of his. He hadn't found the right place to temporarily settle and he was also in a great mood that evening, with all the decorations hanging in the air, dancing with the sweet soughing of the wind. It would be difficult to make much of a profit that day but he had enough to sustain him for a month now.

Suddenly, as he walked down the stone sideways, his sharp ear noticed the almost silent crying of a little boy. A deep sorrow came in his heart and he followed the sound, strumming his Sanishen gently now. A small and thin figure clad in simple black and red clothes sat in a dark corner of the sidewalk with his head buried between his arms. The old man approached him very softly, but the boy suddenly blocked his ears and the man sensed rage boil within him.

"Stop this noise! Stop it! I hate music!"

The man let the melody trail softly with a slight frown and the boy's head shot up, anger and deep sorrow reflecting in the tears of his eyes. The man was sure not to make a single movement, though his smile returned. Very softly he said, "Hello, son. Take a deep breath."

The boy didn't know why he felt an impulse to heed the man. As he did so, however, he felt momentary calmness clear away his confusion. An immediate look of regret came in his eyes and he turned towards the man.

"I'm sorry, lǎo yéye," he said softly. 

"Oh it is alright, you don't need to apologise," the man replied gently, and the boy smile. "What is your name, son? Are you lost?"

"Huo, lǎo yéye. I know these streets very well..." The boy understood the look in the man's eyes; that is not what he meant by being lost.

"What is troubling you?"

Huo was hesitant. He knew he shouldn't burden a stranger with his worries, but something about the old man seemed alleviating. When the boy spoke he felt safe and free, somehow. 

"My father... music stole him from me. He is constantly busy with recitals and focuses his everything on his piano. The worst thing is he makes me play the piano, too, and..."

He didn't know what else to say.

"Do you hate the piano?" The old man asked softly. Something trembled in Huo's eyes, but he slowly shook his head.

"My father said I had a gift, a natural connection with the piano. And I suppose... playing it makes me feel closer to him. It makes me feel not alone.

"But he wants me to be perfect at it. He doesn't let me express myself at competitions."

"Music competitions are quite strict. I do not know your father but I am sure he only wants what is best for you.

"Besides, as a great composer once said, you must play for your own feelings, not for praises and blames. Music is a gift; it is the voice of your soul."

In that moment, something shone in the boy's eyes and he suddenly stood up. He gave the man a respectful and excited bow and suddenly asked, "May I know your name?"

"Hori," the old man replied sweetly. The boy gave a short nod and ran away while waving to Hori.

---

Huo sat in the audience, nostalgia and anxiety filling him. It was his father's concert that day and the final piece was already upon them.

As soon as the first notes reverberated across the hall, Huo recognised the piece. Fantasia No. 4 in C minor, Mozart. Huo's favourite piece. The one he wasn’t allowed to play for others.

The boy was wary. However, it wasn't long before the notes caught his deepest attention; it was nowhere like the original. The notes where same, yes, but the dynamics and the emotions... Huo was transfixed. Time was no more uniform and Huo was lost in the melody, lost in his father's expression. 

The end came soon and Huo was deaf to the applause around him, staring at his father. His gaze was returned and in that moment, Huo witnessed the most loving smile possible.

Huo rushed towards his father as soon as the audience was allowed to leave, falling into his father's embrace. The moment seemed to last for eternity and Huo didn't mind it one bit.

"Happy Birthday, my son. Play this piece when the time is right."

Huo had never been happier. 

Of course, this moment was not unnoticed by a certain musician. Hori left with a happy smile.

- - - -

After his fruitful journey, the old man stumbled upon the village he left. The sight before him was melancholic but pretty. Pretty in a simple and profound manner, with the cold breeze and the warm evening sunlight falling on the few huts of the few people as the adults went about their daily work and the children... some helped the elders and some ran about the grass and the few trees, playing with the birds.

However, a glimpse of what happened forty years ago forced its way to the old man's mind. The fire that destroyed his friends, that took his beloved wife and his son before he could even name him. 

After all these years... he thought with a sigh as he stepped into the village. An old man suddenly spot him and exclaimed "Iroh! Iroh is back!"

The few who survived the fire with him brought the village back to life, although he left soon after. He didn't wish to settle down and start a new life; no, he wished to see the world. See what his son missed. What he himself missed. 

Iroh gave a gentle smile and was soon surrounded by many elders of the village, by his dear friends. He wore a small smile and turned towards the sky, staring beyond the horizon.

It doesn't matter, his name. He is my son, and I will never forget the immense joy of holding.

Iroh turned back with a soft gaze. Perhaps no one will remember my name, but they may remember our moments together. After all life is all about the moments and the feelings, isn't it?

After fruitful journey, I am back home.