The Flute


Don’t Write Me Off, Just Yet


When a thing is left alone it becomes fragile, old and dusty. Though it stays at its place, but no one touches it. It becomes a thing occupying some space, covered with dust and memories. Her grand piano in the hall of her house was that one thing.

If someone complimented her how beautiful she is, or how beautiful she plays, she would tell them that is not her beauty, or her voice, that it was only her piano. She would then look at it and sing, “Since I met you, my whole life has changed. It’s not just my furniture you have rearranged.” Unlike what people usually in this world do to each other, she treated her piano like her own life, she caressed it like a mother, she loved it like a lover. Like colours are to rainbow, her piano was to her. For others, it was just another thing, for her it was her everything. For others, it was few songs with pleasing music, for her it was her words trying to match its melody. “It’s never been easy for me to find words to go along with a melody,” was her first line of the first page of her piano diary.

Like a ritual, she would play it right at 8:10 pm, every night. However, one fine night at the same time, the dusty cover of the piano rolled down. The dust on it started to jump as the keys danced. The dust between the keys didn’t interfere with keys dance. The keys were resting for many years, so was the dust. A sound and an unknown voice was heard, and the voice started to sing, “For years I’ve been telling myself the same old story. That I’m happy to live off my so-called former glories. But you’ve given me a reason to take another chance. Now I need you.” It felt more like a cry than a song. It felt as if someone was singing to her beloved who left him alone.

That painful melody, that beautiful voice was of her piano. Piano that looked beautiful once, dropped a few notes in between to drop some tears for one who left it alone 4 years ago when cancer won over her life. It was not just her who loved that gorgeous thing, piano loved her, too. The keys started to dance again and the voice began to sing, “All I’m asking you is don’t write me off, just yet.”

– Kritika Vashist

(Song by Hugh Grant, Don’t Write Me Off Just Yet)