07-03-2020
This post is being written on the 9th, but i still remember the 7th like it was yesterday.
I was more than excited when I entered the classroom at the Music Academy. I took my seat enthusiastically and looked around the posters on the wall and the collection of acoustic guitars placed around the entire room. Before i was told, i took out my guitar and pick to play the little two chord song i learnt yesterday called "The Horse with no name". Vincent was perfectly tuned and ready for his first lesson as much as i was.
The teacher was a young dude no more than 23 years of age with a diamond face, beady eyes, side cropped hair wearing a white tucked shirt and casual denim. He greeted me with a typical youthful accent of Indians who speak English. I met him the previous week and he asked me to practice the exercises he showed me previously. I didn't remember any of those notes so i sat there strumming the tune of a retarded elephant trying to perform an opera, until he came in with a textbook and a notebook.
The next fifteen minutes he attempted to teach me simple finger exercises and i learnt that i had very weak muscles in my left hand. Whenever he played it the sound would have a flow and rhythm. Every time i tried it ,it was ten times slower, far from accurate and i kept releasing the pressure on the strings until the noise of a tuning fork being slammed against a table kept serenading my ears. I pressed the strings so hard, there were dents on my index finger and the middle finger. No matter the pain, I kept playing for the next half hour. I had to do it for my passion and for Vincent. Vincent and I had a long way to go...I will make sure we get there. I wouldn't go there with anyone else.
Time flew by in the blink of an eye. The hour was up and my fingers were numb. Day one of our journey had come to an end but it was the beginning of something wonderful...I knew it would be.
Something wonderful for me and my light brown, loyal, patient buddy Vincent.
This post is being written on the 9th, but i still remember the 7th like it was yesterday.
I was more than excited when I entered the classroom at the Music Academy. I took my seat enthusiastically and looked around the posters on the wall and the collection of acoustic guitars placed around the entire room. Before i was told, i took out my guitar and pick to play the little two chord song i learnt yesterday called "The Horse with no name". Vincent was perfectly tuned and ready for his first lesson as much as i was.
The teacher was a young dude no more than 23 years of age with a diamond face, beady eyes, side cropped hair wearing a white tucked shirt and casual denim. He greeted me with a typical youthful accent of Indians who speak English. I met him the previous week and he asked me to practice the exercises he showed me previously. I didn't remember any of those notes so i sat there strumming the tune of a retarded elephant trying to perform an opera, until he came in with a textbook and a notebook.
The next fifteen minutes he attempted to teach me simple finger exercises and i learnt that i had very weak muscles in my left hand. Whenever he played it the sound would have a flow and rhythm. Every time i tried it ,it was ten times slower, far from accurate and i kept releasing the pressure on the strings until the noise of a tuning fork being slammed against a table kept serenading my ears. I pressed the strings so hard, there were dents on my index finger and the middle finger. No matter the pain, I kept playing for the next half hour. I had to do it for my passion and for Vincent. Vincent and I had a long way to go...I will make sure we get there. I wouldn't go there with anyone else.
Time flew by in the blink of an eye. The hour was up and my fingers were numb. Day one of our journey had come to an end but it was the beginning of something wonderful...I knew it would be.
Something wonderful for me and my light brown, loyal, patient buddy Vincent.
Comments
Post a Comment