The Guitar

“It’s enough for today”-he thought when he looked at the hat, his only treasure which still gives him a sense of honour and recognition to himself. He always walks like a prince whenever he gets out every day in the late morning with the guitar and a small folding stool to sit on the footpath in a public place.  He never shared the reminiscence to anyone of having such a precious gift from that day when he preferred the life of a street musician-only a street musician who now feels the robe of old age is becoming heavy slowly but steadily on him.

For almost a year he is now in this town. He is a gipsy by nature from his early days, but now a real gipsy who may pitch his tent anywhere he wants.

He stooped to pick up the coins heaped into his hat and started playing “Turkish March” his one the most favourite numbers while awaiting Alexi his roommate- a beautiful accordion player.  He lost himself in the tune and did not notice that a small crowd gathered again around him. He was playing the number closing his eyes and dreaming a sunny day… a garden …. a little girl laughing and dancing and the most beautiful woman who once was the ‘Aphrodite-the goddess of love’ to him; enjoying the dance -clapping on beats of a tune.

He awakened by the sound of claps when he stopped.  He looked around and saw a beautiful gathering. The hat again was full and saw the edge of a twenty dollars bill was peeping towards him. When the crowd dispersed slowly; leaving the graze of praise behind them he saw Alexi approaching towards him. Alexi warmly grabbed his hands with a fascinated look. “I’m speechless”- he whispered. That evening Alexi offered the payment at the bar for their usual drinks of the evenings.

One month passed and he got the gift of twenty dollars bill thrice. He became curious to identify the person who is giving him a twenty dollars bill as a beautiful gift. At last, he could understand where and when he generally gets the gift. It’s a particular subway of a metro station where he places his stool and sinks into the tunes of a particular number “Turkish March”.

Next day I must keep my eyes open and must identify the person – he vowed to himself.  So with the firm determination, he appeared in the subway of the particular metro station as he guessed.

He looked at his wristwatch and looked at his hat.”Yes, it’s enough for the day “-he was satisfied with the coins gathered in the niche of the hat. He decided to draw the end of his days performance playing the particular number with the expectation to identify that very person of twenty dollars bill. He arranged himself properly and started strumming the strings.

How long he played he had no sense. He opened his eyes by the sound of clapping that continued for moments and he stared at the crowd stood around him. He was observing the fascinated faces of the crowd. When the sense got back to him entirely he was struck seeing the same twenty dollars bill.
.

Today too he failed to identify the very person amongst the crowd who might be still looking at him or already went away. He sighed deeply. With a feeling of sadness that was engulfing his soul bit by bit; he kept the guitar in the box and expecting Alexi at any moment. Today he decided to offer drinks to Alexi where every day both of them usually spends some time before returning to the cosy room shared with Alexi.

He was not able to talk freely. An emotion which he could not identify kept wrapping around himself. Alexi felt something and maintained silence while he was helping to set everything in due order and to go to the bar as their usual routine of the day.

The two friends were just walking by the side of the fence of the park very near to the subway, he saw a beautiful young girl slowly approaching towards him. She stood still in front of him and grabbed his hand warmly. He felt it was long.. long moments of the past he left behind.  The young girl after a few moments whispered in her choked voice –“Thanks”. She turned back, hurriedly crossed the road and disappeared.  He suddenly saw a pretty little girl, dancing with joy with the tunes strumming on a guitar.  

From the next day no one has ever seen the guitarist in that town.