A Song for You

Note: This story is entirely fictional. I am not well-versed in history, so please excuse me if some of the facts are wrong. Also, I do not mean to disrespect anyone mentioned in this story.

It was the bloody time of the Second World War, when countries were forced to choose sides— whether they wanted to join the Axis Powers or the Allied Powers in battle. Truth to be told, no one really wanted to go into war. People didn’t want their line of life to be interrupted by the splatter of blood and the smell of gun powder. But a human wanted to save a human. It was a question of humanity. People decided that to live in peace, the oppressed must be free too. In Nelson Mandela’s words— ‘Both the oppressor and the oppressed must be freed’. He might have said this during the South African struggle against the whites, but these words of truth applies in this case perfectly. Politics also came into play. It always did, whether one liked it or not.

In India, too, people were divided. They did not know whom to support and whom to fight against. The British, who had colonised India in those days, forced the Indians to help them in war. They said that if we helped them, they will leave our country. Leaders like Subhash Chandra Bose wanted to help Japan in the hope that they would be able to drive the British out of our country. Some were afraid that if we helped Japan, they would only replace the British and establish a colonial rule of their own over India. Others like Mahatma Gandhi didn’t want to participate in the War at all and wanted to pressurise the British from within India while they are under the stress of the War.

Caught in this massive wave of such different views, such confusion and such chaos, is a musician. Soorya Prakash Narayan belonged to a family which had produced a long chain of musicians. During the olden times, when India was divided into many kingdoms, his family was well-to-do. They were summoned by kings, courtiers and priests to perform many musical shows and in turn, his family received various presents from them.

But that was just the past. When the English East India Company arrived India and slowly started gaining political control over many kingdoms, like many other musicians, his family were getting hired less often by their usual employers. By the time the whole of India was colonised, the Narayans’ family business had also collapsed. To make a little more substantial living, his family started taking up some other jobs.

Soorya himself, was a factory worker. Due to the outbreak of the Second World War, the production rate of all factories increased to meet the constant need of war supplies. This also meant that that all the workers had to work overtime and some were even hired for night shifts. The wages had increased, but only so much that he could properly feed his family. But factory work is not what Soorya wished to do.

Ever since he was a child, Soorya has always been interested in music. He wanted to continue the long lost family profession. As a child, he used to utilise his free time in practising the tabla, the sitar, the veena, the flute, and every other instrument which was was stored away in his family home. Unfortunately, when he grew up, he was hit by the harsh reality of life. He realised that as a musician he would not be able to make a proper livelihood like his great-great-great-great grandparents had.

This, however, did not crush Soorya’s dreams. Music ran through his veins and his heart throbbed with musical notes; these tunes were his life and there was no way anyone was going to suppress them. So, Soorya became a daily wager in the factory and everyday, after his shift was over, he would set out in the streets and would search for any small gathering in the town where men discussed about their lives and the current affairs. He would approach them and offer them to ease their minds with his melodious music. Sometimes, if he was lucky, some policemen or few sepoys who were slacking off would call him to play a couple of musical pieces for them. It was during festival time when Soorya thrived the most. All he had to do was to enter a local fair and stop people in their tracks with his beautiful notes.

The War created difficulties for Soorya to find work. Laws were passed which prevented people from gathering in one place for discussion. The police were on high alert and were ordered to beat up and drive away any suspicious figure loitering around on the streets (Soorya himself was deemed ‘suspicious’ by the police a couple of times, so he couldn’t really go about searching for work). Even the smallest groups were broken up by the police. And most of the sepoys and many able men were forced to join the war. In these circumstances, who had the time to listen to the silly tunes of a random musician?

As Soorya was walking down an empty street on his way home, he heard some whispers which were growing louder and angrier as they spoke. He saw that three men were huddled together in the darkness of the shadows cast between two of the houses lined up on the street.

“I am telling you, we should join Subhash Babu and with the help from Japan, we are sure to drive away those Britishers.”, Soorya heard one of them say. He couldn’t help himself from listening to their conversation.

“And risk the possibility that they themselves might start ruling us? No way!”, said another.

“Besides, I heard rumours that Gandhiji is about give a speech somewhere. People are saying that he wants to start another movement.”, said the third.

The first one, however, was very aggressive. “And what will starting a movement going to do? Non-cooperation movement was a fail, Civil Disobedience movement was a fail, and I bet that this one would be a fail too!”

“But there are higher chances for us to succeed this time for the British is already under a lot of pressure due to the War.”, said the third one.

“Non-violence is not going to do anything! For all we know, they could just open fire at us again like they did in Jallianwala Bagh. Atleast, with the help from Japanese, we have a chance to fight back.”

“Listen, the Britishers are already at their breaking point. They have already said that they will give us our freedom after the War if we help them. This movement might make it a surety.”, pleaded the second one.

“Oh! So now you trust those people who have already broken them before, but you have a hard time trusting someone else. Such double standards!”

“No, I am only saying that...”, the second one began when the first one grabbed him by the collar of his kurta and pushed him until he lost his balance and fell on the dusty ground.

“You’re saying that you don’t trust in Subhash Babu and that he wouldn’t be able to handle the Japanese if they try to rule over us? You’re saying that you don’t trust our Azad Hind Fauj?”

The first one was boiling with anger. He had the second guy pinned to the ground and seemed ready to beat him up.

“No, please. He didn’t mean that!”, exclaimed the third one.

“Shut up!”

Soorya knew that he shouldn’t get himself caught in this escalating situation, so he continued moving on his path. Fortunately, a soon policeman emerged from round the corner and he was running towards the direction of the noise, probably intending to break the fight.

*—*—*

That night, Soorya lying on his cot and was deep in his own thoughts. He thinking about what had taken place earlier that night. He was pondering on all the different views that existed among the people. On looking at all the existing views in a broader way, he realised that in this confusion and chaos, people seemed to be forgetting something vital— their end goal. These views were not so different at all if looked at in a broader way. The ultimate objective of each of them was to attain independence from the British. The Indians were fighting each other when every one of them wanted to achieve the exact same thing. ‘If we don’t step back and look at what we were arguing for, we would lead ourselves to our own doom.’, thought Soorya.

With this disturbing thought in his mind, Soorya fell into a troubled sleep.

*—*—*

Days passed. Conflict among the Indians grew at an alarming rate. Everyone were taking sides. Each side thought that they were the ones who were right and the rest were wrong. Things weren’t any good for Soorya himself. The only topic discussed by the workers in his factory was about which path was the correct one. This often lead to heated arguments which ended only when the supervisor of the factory intervened. Soorya was also starting to lose interest in his work. In fact, he only considered his factory-work to be a side job. But he had failed in finding any work as a musician. Who knew when the War would end, and if it did end then how long would it take for everyone to recover from its effect? Soorya felt as if he was losing his purpose in life.

Then there were Soorya’s friends and relatives. They used to keep on pestering him about which side he was joining. Strangely, his thoughts from many nights before came back to him. Someone had to tell the people to look the big picture. To look at what everyone really wanted. A common goal. A goal to attain independence.

Soorya was on his way back home after a hard day’s work when these train of thoughts were running in his mind. He was carrying a cloth which was wrapped around his lunch box and also a sitar. Even when he knew that he wouldn’t be able to find work during these times, he always carried his sitar with him. Maybe it was due to habit or maybe because it provided him some comfort and a feeling of home.

While he was deep in his thoughts, his hand carelessly reached for his sitar and his fingers delicately ran through the strings. As the notes were produced, something clicked in his mind. Soorya quickly ran back home and sat down to work.

*—*—*

‘It is time.’, thought Soorya. He had worked all night and had written the perfect song with the perfect piece of music to go with it. It was early morning and people were trickling out of their homes to do their daily labour. Soorya ran his fingers smoothly through the strings of his sitar and played the opening piece of his song. The melodious notes of the instrument perked up many peoples ears. They lifted their eyes, which was lit with interest, towards his direction. Few even walked a bit closer to him as if they were unconsciously drawn by the music.

When he was able to catch enough number of people’s interest, Soorya paused and said in a soft but clear voice which could be heard by everyone present there, “Here is a song for you. A song with which I hope to touch your hearts and a music which I hope will resonate in your soul in times like this.”

Soorya opened his mouth to sing and the rest was history.

His song was successful in reminding everyone what they wanted to achieve. Whatever path we decide to take, it should lead them to their goal, which was to gain independence. Instead of fighting over who is right and who is wrong we should help each other and work towards our one true aim. It is everyone’s contribution towards attaining freedom that mattered.

This was his contribution. A song which brought everyone together. Soorya had found his purpose in life.