AN ETERNAL LOVE, a short story

 

AN ETERNAL LOVE
By Shrisha Koirala

I take some steps toward the love of my life. The one true love that has supported me throughout my life’s hardships. The one true love that has never left my side, irrespective of the situation. As my steps drew closer, I’m reminded of how this dearest has helped me realize my mistakes. Eventually, all these life experiences helped me become a better person. 

“Oh, another typical love story." 

You may say so. But this is not the kind of story you’re expecting. This is the story of my love for someone who is still not someone. Don’t be confused anymore, because I intend not to confuse you. I want to tell you about my eternal love story. 

This is my love for my piano—an eternal love, to be more specific. The story of love between a piano and its instrumentalist. A story of sadness, desperation, despair, and separation, but a beautiful story nonetheless. 

I think this story started the day I first laid eyes on my piano. Or maybe it started the day I first went to a concert or the day I first played the piano. Anyway, the path I’m on right now was laid forward the day of my birthday, the 17th one. I had no idea of the big surprise—the burst of happiness entering my life. As I unwrapped the surprise, I couldn’t stop the tears rolling down my eyes, for I had found the path to my dreams. The instant bond between us said forever. Little did I realize then that you were not the path, but you were the dream of mine. 

As I played the first notes on you, those of River Flows in you, I whispered to you, “Our bond shall be that of forever. I shall never stop playing. The day I stop playing, the day of our separation, it shall be the day my soul leaves me, the day when I will breathe my last.” 


And today is the day. My steps are closer and closer to you, my life, and everything. As the steps close in the distance between us slowly, the sounds around us grow fainter. The sounds of whispers in Carnegie Hall are our dream together. It’s an irony, isn’t it? This very audience that fulfilled our dream is the same audience that is separating us today. I wonder how many of them even feel guilty for the fate they’ve brought upon us. But maybe most of them don’t even know about it. 

That’s when I saw him, in the very first row, with a smile that said he regretted nothing. The one who brought this on us. I still remember the words he said to us. 

“Either play or your beloved piano shall be destroyed, but remember, once you play here, you shall never get to play ever again.” 

I finally reach my piano, my companion forever, my whole soul, and the true essence of my being. I sit down on the stool, hands positioned on the piano, and am ready to play. The whole crowd is hushed up at that moment, waiting for the notes to begin. Until now, I wasn’t sure which of the two pieces close to my heart I was going to play: Moonlight Sonata, a piece of despair, or Nocturne Op 9 No. 2, a piece of sheer beauty and love. 

But as I set my eyes on you, I knew exactly what I was going to play. And with memories of a lifetime flashing through my eyes, the nocturne begins. 

AGE 5 

“Grandpere! Grandpere! Where are you taking me?”

“To the first piano concert of your life, my angel. I still remember the days when you were nothing bigger than a small baby that could fit in your hands. Every time you started wailing, only one piano piece could calm you down. And by chance, it’s being played today in our local concert hall. I have to take you to see this, my angel.” 

And thus they went, grandpa with his little granddaughter seated on his shoulders, to the concert, talking and laughing. As the notes of Nocturne op. 9 no. 2 began playing and filling up the ears of the little girl, she was filled with awe at the way such beautiful sound could be produced in such a way. Even more fascinating to her was the connection she could see between the piano and the pianist—a connection as if they were one and only one. And when the concert ended, she jumped into her grandpa’s arms and kissed his cheek. 

“I loved it, Papoi!”

“I’m sorry, Papoi,” I whisper under my breath as tears fall from my eyes. I keep playing the notes with all the love I ever have in me flowing through the tips of my fingers.

“I’m sorry I have to do this.”

And I keep playing.  

AGE 17

“Papa, Mama! Please tell me what my gift is.”

“Go and see for yourself, princess.” 

The parents gave their little girl a puzzle to solve—a treasure hunt. As she solved each step of it eagerly, she came across her piano for the first time.

“Thank you, Papa, Mama!”

She cried tears of joy. 

But today, these weren’t tears of joy. These were the tears of separation and sadness falling from my eyes.

“I love you, Mama, Papa. Thank you for the most beautiful gift of my life.” 

AGE 20

The girl was scared out of her wits.

“I can’t do this. What was I even thinking about signing up for this?! I’m not prepared at all. Everyone will hate me.”

“What are you doing, Dumbo?”

It was her elder sister who was there to attend her first concert.

“I’m scared, Lia; I don’t think I can do this.” 

“What do you mean you can’t do this? You’re one of the best pianists in the whole city, and you know it! And anyway, you should not be focusing on the audience. This is your first concert, Dumbo. And today, when you go out there, you’re not playing for the audience; you’re playing for yourself, for your piano. Now go out there, go knock ‘em dead!” 

And so she went. And it was magical—the way the notes of the Moonlight Sonata slipped through her fingers to her piano. It was as if there was no barrier between her and her piano. It was as if they were one. Just like she saw with her grandparents; just like her first concert. 

And when she stopped playing, the one who clapped the hardest in the audience was her sister, and the ones who were jumping up and down like maniacs, screaming, were her idiotasss.

“Take care, Lia. I love you more than anything else does. And, my idiotasses, remain happy wherever you are. I love you all.” 

I arrive at the ending notes of the piece. 

“Today, this is the end. I’m sorry, everyone, but this is it. I love you all more than anything, and I’m sorry, but I have to let go.” 

“It’s time to go, piano.”  

And then I lift my hands from the piano, ending the performance. The audience erupts with claps, but I fall from the stool, my lifeless form sprawled across the stage floor. My soul lifts us from my body, connecting with one of my pianos, for ours was a bond of forever. 

The crowd was hushed up, and the man who brought this upon us was shocked. Some people ran up to the stage trying to revive me, but to no avail, for it was promised that the very moment of my separation from my piano was the moment of my departure. For my soul, it was the pianos, and we were one and only one. 

The piano dissipates from the stage, and everyone looks on in shock. And so, my soul departs from all the happenings and lifts from the world to join my piano, waiting for me away from this physical world and waiting for our togetherness in heaven. 

 “Even God can’t separate us. Even death can’t do us part.”

WANT TO REPRODUCE THIS ARTICLE?

All rights reserved. All the articles and photos published in this blog are the copyright property of this blog. I allow articles and photos to be reproduced only for information and educational purposes. For that, you must mention the author and the blog's name. Blog: nepaleducationpost.blogspot.com  I would appreciate it if you inform me by sending an email to writerlbthapa@gmail.com.

Comments

TOP TEN POSTS

WHY GIRLS SHOULD WORK PART TIME JOBS by Ansu Sen Thakuri

UNEMPLOYMENT, A SERIOUS PROBLEM

SPEAKING A FOREIGN LANGUAGE

EDUCATION FOR ONE AND ALL By Atal Chhetri

ASPIRING HIGHER EDUCATION AND PART TIME JOB

THE CHALLENGE OF FEEDING HUNGRY MOUTHS

FOR THE CAUSE OF SAVING ENVIRONMENT

HOLDING PEOPLE IN VILLAGES By Akriti Ghimire

KNOWING MORE ABOUT THE HISTORIC PLACES