Peter had a reasonably good day with his guitar. What day can be amazingly good about a street musician? May be a Christmas eve near the Cathedral? But today was not Christmas eve, and so it wouldn't go down as Peter's best day in terms of earnings. He walked through the low-lit street leading to his house, counting the coins he earned, with his guitar hung on his shoulder. The drizzle didn't seem to matter to him at all, until it took strength. The rains poured down and thats when he became conscious of being wet. He was more conscious of hiding his guitar from the rain than himself. He put the coins in his pocket and hurried down to his house. "Ah, I should now get home quickly and then finish that lovely piece of music i had been trying to write down.": thats what ran through his mind.
He reached his doorsteps, and there stood a girl shivering from the cold and the rains. She had just made herself comfortable under the small shade above his door, it seemed to him. That was not something new to Peter. Everytime a rain poured, there would be some passerby caught in this dance of Nature, and would end up in those shades. So Peter gave her a smile, and opened his door, hoping that she would just stay in the shades, and he could proceed to his piano to compose. He was about to close the door when she looked Peter with a sense of helplessness. Peter had noticed she was quite wet and shivering. And the look on that face was too gracious to deny.
She broke the silence and asked "Can....Can I stay inside for a while?... Am really feeling cold" For some time Peter didnt know what to reply. Atlast he answered "Yes"
With a smile she said "Thank you. I wont stay long. Just let this rain stop". Peter didnt reply and just went in. He hung his guitar on the wall, and said in a slightly loud voice "Close the door". She gently closed the door, and walked into his room, looking eagerly at the posters he had in his room, and the Piano placed at a corner.
Peter was 27, had taken a course in music. He enjoyed composing his own pieces, although he never got it published. He soon realised he wasnt so great at composing to earn him a living. His love for music was so much, that he decided to play guitar on the streets, thanks to the lessons he had from his elder brother when he was quite young.
"Sit down..." Peter said her, emptying a chair filled with his clothes. She was around 24 and was pretty. She was quite happy to be in the warmth of his room, and felt easy.
"Do you play both the guitar and the piano?" she asked. "Yes" he said, pressing his finger on the middle C note. He was quite happy that someone was asking him about it, as it made him feel that he was quite special.
He made some hot tea, and gave her a cup of it. "I like Piano" she said. "Its my life" he said.
"Actually i am composing a very special piece now. I thought i would complete it today. It has been my dream to do this piece" he continued. "Oh, thats nice. Can you play me as far as you have completed?" she asked
"Well, i cant. I need to complete it first" he said with a bit of arrogance which made her sad.
"But...." he said "i am going to try completing it now. You can hear that if you want". She smiled.
He sat down, and started to try notes. The rain was still pouring down, as he randomly tried many notes and chords. Somehow it didnt fit. "I cant seem to do it", he said looking at her with a complaining face. She knew it was her presence that was disturbing his concentration. "I am sorry.. I will leave soon", she said with a voice of regret.
There was silence for some moments and again she broke it and asked "Tell me.... Tell me whats so special about this piece".
He sipped his tea, and said "This is my love; My heart written in music" She saw a tear drop from his eyes "This is the remembrance of my love for Maria..." She listened interestingly as he continued "...the remembrance of a love that was never returned to me"
"Why didnt she return?" the girl asked
"I dont know" he said, "The only thing i know is I loved her very much. I loved her more than my music."
"Didnt you ever tell her your love?" the girl asked
"I did. But her response shattered me. She said she couldnt see me the way I saw her. She was glad to be with me, but never as a lover"
"I could never forget the good times we had together. I wished we were together forever. But destiny plays its silly games randomly. It is blind to the results."
"I was broken. For months my piano and guitar didnt sing"
"This piece is the remembrance of my love. Its my greatest wish to finish it. My tune of love"
The girl listened eagerly, as if listening to a bedtime story. There was silence, both inside and outside the room. The rains had stopped. The girl stood up to take leave and said "Thank you very much. It was so nice listening you. I wish you can finish this piece as soon as possible; maybe today"
He smiled and said"Not today... Maybe tomorrow. I am quite tired. And I dont think i will finish it beautifully if i try too hard today"
"May be we will meet someday. And... dont be sad, your love will be returned. If not her, then somebody else would surely love for what you are" she tried to make him happy, as they hugged each other, and she took leave.
Peter closed the door, and sat near his piano. "Ah, poor girl, she didnt even drink her tea... Silly me, i just bored her with my story..", he said and lazily reclined on his bed.
* * * * *
The next day was quite sunny. People were on the streets, and Peter was lucky to have many people gather around him to hear his guitar. They threw coins into his upturned hat on the ground. By evening, Peter had collected a fortune; atleast by his standards.
"Hey Pete, seem so happy? had a Christmas eve?" his old friend Matt asked him as they crossed each other on the street.
"Almost...." Pete said with a laugh, making his way to his house, humming a tune.
As soon as he entered, he went straight to his piano, played a happy tune on it, and was all set to sit for his work. He was so happy today that notes came to him so naturally and chords seem to fit so well. He wrote down carefully on the music sheet, and in two hours, he managed to complete the final parts of the piece. The piece he had been dreaming of completing. The tune of love. Surely his masterpiece, atleast to him. The sun had set, and he played his piece over and over again, with great satisfaction.
He was immersed in his playing, when he heard a knock on the door. Peter opened the door, and there stood that enthusiastic girl who had been his guest yesterday.
"Did you complete the piece???" was the first question from her, as she continued with a silly laugh "I know you did... didnt you?"
Peter smiled, and said "Come in..Come in". He was so happy that this girl was so interested in his work. His day was already a great one, and now here to spice it all up, he even has a listener.
"I never thought you would be so interested in my music that you would actually come to hear me" he said, as he prepared hot tea for both of them.
"I wanted you to complete it, so that i could come and listen to it." she said with happiness.
"How are you?" peter finally had some sense to ask something about her. "Am fine" she said.
"Now, can i listen you playing it?...please....." she almost begged him.
Peter, for once felt like a great composer, and walked slowly to his piano. And there he started playing his masterpiece. His tune of love. She sat on the chair and listened all along. He played with passion and emotions. The notes really imbibed the love he had for Maria. They carried his passion. They reflected his care. It was his heart itself in notes.
The music finished, and there was silence. He looked into the girl's eyes. She looked at his.
He said "I wish I was loved for once."
She walked towards him, gazing into his eyes. He stood up. She hugged him. Embraced him. Kissed him on his forehead. Peter was stunned. He had always searched love. It was never returned to him. Here he played the tune of love, and in return he was being embraced with love. That too from someone he barely knew. He wanted to ask all sorts of questions to her. But he loved these moments of love. These moments of care. She was not like the silly girl he had thought of. Was she actually loving him?
For a long time Peter hugged, resting his head on her shoulders; her arms caressing him; her lips warmly kissing his forehead. He never thought such warmth would come to him. He cherished each moment of what was happening. In the end, Peter, standing as he was, asked the girl "Whats your name?" With the softest whisper she answered "Death".
The next day, his friends saw Peter lying on his bed, his face looking so gracious and satisfied. Motionless he lay, with a smile. His finished composition lying on his piano. And two tea cups, one filled and the other empty on his table
