Each step on the cobble stone street, seemed to pull out a whiff of the past.
Known voices, forgotten faces, giggles that were gone and mild scents that lingered but refused to be recognised …not by a fraction …not for any olfaction.
Every step I took was as though I was walking on a giant piano, whose keys tugged the silky strings deep below on which little memory gnomes sat . With each tug they leaped off releasing the memory bubble they sat on. Each bubble had a story …. Some burst ,some unfolded and yet some still mum.
These cobblestones and old city must have seen so much in the past that it was hard to believe they haven't stopped making memory bubbles, they were still interested in new and fresh stories and people . Storage capacity and Archieving dint seem to be an issue to them.
Hauptstraße ( Main Street) , set in foot hills of Heidelberg in Southern Germany is quite a bustling place. Many a time I would rush through the pedestrians , passing by street performers, missing pedicured and pampered pet doggies , ignoring hawkers selling exotic fruits, aged yet sprinkling fountains,glancing at latest shopping lines and dodging large tourist groups mostly Japanese. And there have been times , less hurried when I took to a relaxed walk with no agenda, just enjoying the unfolding sights and scenes. With the ancient and modern coming together on this picturesque lane , it wouldn’t be surprising if anyone got sucked into a beckoning sight , store or Inn.
Having spent some good times here with my friends and also having made a some friends right here many years ago , this road was special.Was recollecting all of this and wishing I could be accompanied by my wife this time, in my lonely walk done the Hauptstraße this time.
After the routine uphill clamber to the Castle overlooking the Neckar, was about to get square with my lonely feeling and cheer up. The Neckar behaved and was silent which is probably why I could hear more than the waves and ripples, this was like the song of the river, i could hear faint yet distant, vague but soothing, I started to move faster in its direction.
It was not far away, felt like I was in the right direction. A few gasps and steps later i was there, I had taken the bait.
Swaying gently with some deliberation, with a sweater over his shoulders , standing in on the side of the bustling street , head slightly titled to the left and left chin grasping the instrument .He was creating magic , magic of melody.
When the bow in his right hand , which oscillated over the strings of the wooded violin he held in his left, the sweetest of notes flew off the strings ... the natural harmonics of the violin and soulful rendering by the violinist had a crowd almost enchanted and immersed in a tracelike state. For once everyone had forgotten their purpose, they were in a different world altogether.
The warmth of the music was slowing melting the cold insides of a lonely me. A certain sense of well being and happiness sprouted with each melodious note.
An old violin casket lay , mouth wide open like a starfish stretched out on beach, multi national coins and notes seemed to line the inner part but not many. Not enough.
Heard of the saying ‘Best things in the world truly come for free !’.
This was not the first time, I had seen a street performer . What fascinated me usually was looking at how people react just as the performance gets over and its time to drop a few coins. They usually remember that they are late or busy and rush away. What would happen here? Would people just start to leave before the performance is over? Glance away from the performer, Pick up their cellphones or just look busy , non impressed and walk away?
I took a seat by the garden beach just a few meters from the musical treat, reached out for that unfinished Novel and started to read the final chapter, with an ear to the music. Thought I could sit back and enjoy reading the book much better in this ambiance .
Contrary to what I thought the brains highways don’t actually let thoughts move like a well mannered traffic in Germany, in lane , in queue… It was more like traffic in the bursting roads of Bangalore. Where Buses claimed the centre, Cars the sides and Auto rickshaws , motorcycles anywhere in between these. Where Cycles, Motor cycles and Pedestrians manoeuvred themselves on the footpath.
Its not clear if it my brain knew where it was , was it at peace or at war
As now the book seemed so interesting that It wasn’t ready to share any mind space with the music. A conflict of interest.
A truckload of questions made me close the book, couldn’t read any more.
Who is the musician, where is he from?
Is he a student? Where does he live?
After playing here, will he go take the money and go for some drinks or go home?
Does he play here every day?
That’s it, I will follow this guy and find out more!
My mind decided without even asking me if I was free or had any other plans.
The music was still playing, but now I was so impatient I wanted him to stop playing and do what he would so next.
So here I was , stuck due to my own madness.
I could no longer appreciate the place , the book or the people. All I wanted was to kill my curiosity.
When will he stop?
( to be continued)
Known voices, forgotten faces, giggles that were gone and mild scents that lingered but refused to be recognised …not by a fraction …not for any olfaction.
Every step I took was as though I was walking on a giant piano, whose keys tugged the silky strings deep below on which little memory gnomes sat . With each tug they leaped off releasing the memory bubble they sat on. Each bubble had a story …. Some burst ,some unfolded and yet some still mum.
These cobblestones and old city must have seen so much in the past that it was hard to believe they haven't stopped making memory bubbles, they were still interested in new and fresh stories and people . Storage capacity and Archieving dint seem to be an issue to them.
Hauptstraße ( Main Street) , set in foot hills of Heidelberg in Southern Germany is quite a bustling place. Many a time I would rush through the pedestrians , passing by street performers, missing pedicured and pampered pet doggies , ignoring hawkers selling exotic fruits, aged yet sprinkling fountains,glancing at latest shopping lines and dodging large tourist groups mostly Japanese. And there have been times , less hurried when I took to a relaxed walk with no agenda, just enjoying the unfolding sights and scenes. With the ancient and modern coming together on this picturesque lane , it wouldn’t be surprising if anyone got sucked into a beckoning sight , store or Inn.
Having spent some good times here with my friends and also having made a some friends right here many years ago , this road was special.Was recollecting all of this and wishing I could be accompanied by my wife this time, in my lonely walk done the Hauptstraße this time.
After the routine uphill clamber to the Castle overlooking the Neckar, was about to get square with my lonely feeling and cheer up. The Neckar behaved and was silent which is probably why I could hear more than the waves and ripples, this was like the song of the river, i could hear faint yet distant, vague but soothing, I started to move faster in its direction.
It was not far away, felt like I was in the right direction. A few gasps and steps later i was there, I had taken the bait.
Swaying gently with some deliberation, with a sweater over his shoulders , standing in on the side of the bustling street , head slightly titled to the left and left chin grasping the instrument .He was creating magic , magic of melody.
When the bow in his right hand , which oscillated over the strings of the wooded violin he held in his left, the sweetest of notes flew off the strings ... the natural harmonics of the violin and soulful rendering by the violinist had a crowd almost enchanted and immersed in a tracelike state. For once everyone had forgotten their purpose, they were in a different world altogether.
The warmth of the music was slowing melting the cold insides of a lonely me. A certain sense of well being and happiness sprouted with each melodious note.
An old violin casket lay , mouth wide open like a starfish stretched out on beach, multi national coins and notes seemed to line the inner part but not many. Not enough.
Heard of the saying ‘Best things in the world truly come for free !’.
This was not the first time, I had seen a street performer . What fascinated me usually was looking at how people react just as the performance gets over and its time to drop a few coins. They usually remember that they are late or busy and rush away. What would happen here? Would people just start to leave before the performance is over? Glance away from the performer, Pick up their cellphones or just look busy , non impressed and walk away?
I took a seat by the garden beach just a few meters from the musical treat, reached out for that unfinished Novel and started to read the final chapter, with an ear to the music. Thought I could sit back and enjoy reading the book much better in this ambiance .
Contrary to what I thought the brains highways don’t actually let thoughts move like a well mannered traffic in Germany, in lane , in queue… It was more like traffic in the bursting roads of Bangalore. Where Buses claimed the centre, Cars the sides and Auto rickshaws , motorcycles anywhere in between these. Where Cycles, Motor cycles and Pedestrians manoeuvred themselves on the footpath.
Its not clear if it my brain knew where it was , was it at peace or at war
As now the book seemed so interesting that It wasn’t ready to share any mind space with the music. A conflict of interest.
A truckload of questions made me close the book, couldn’t read any more.
Who is the musician, where is he from?
Is he a student? Where does he live?
After playing here, will he go take the money and go for some drinks or go home?
Does he play here every day?
That’s it, I will follow this guy and find out more!
My mind decided without even asking me if I was free or had any other plans.
The music was still playing, but now I was so impatient I wanted him to stop playing and do what he would so next.
So here I was , stuck due to my own madness.
I could no longer appreciate the place , the book or the people. All I wanted was to kill my curiosity.
When will he stop?
( to be continued)
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