I was never good at studies, at least I am not studious in the real sense of the term. But I am a great lover of music. One, my friend, dabbled a bit at (= took light interest in) palmistry and read cheap editions of Cheiro. She once made a playful prediction (= forecast) that I shall shine in fine arts.
My passion for music is confined to the film songs which I enjoyed on the sly, for my father took exception to (= objected to) it. Today, when I rehearse the events that happened in my life last evening, I simply wonder.
There is an English proverb that, “Time steals a march on us’, and lo, it fell to my lot! Somehow the news got circulated that I sing well. And when my parents told me that I am to sing in the ceremony my feelings suffered a mixed reaction. They ran high to think that it is a great honour, but they also suffered a contrary reaction to think if I shall be able to acquit myself honourably (=without doing dishonour to the art).
It is indeed a trying (= requiring pluck or courage) affair to narrate the incidents of the last evening,
The assembly-hall was large one meant especially for such occasions. As I stood behind the proscenium (= front screen of the stage) I staggered in my frock. I am by nature shy and diffident (=opposite of confident). I saw a brisk activity among the organisers and the artists inside the stage. Being a girl of barely fourteen years, I had to be accompanied by Proloyda, my music teacher, who was also to accompany me on stage with the synthesizer (= an instrument that harmonizes various musical sounds).
My position in the order was about the middle one. The previous items gave me a preview. The auditorium was almost full to flowing; a flowing music echoed through the vault and a thunderous applause burst between programmes. I felt like a child left in a wilderness. Neither the announcements nor anything could enter the hard shell of my sensibility. It had become virtually deaf to every outward appeal. My senses seemed to suffer a fear of failure like Swami Vivekananda did in the Chicago conference. I had heard from mother that the Great Star of Indian spiritualism got his turn (= chance) shifted lower many a time to summon up (= gather) enough courage. But I had no such chance as my name was announced.
As the screen curled upward, I found myself almost alone on the stage, facing a sea of heads. The auditorium music stopped and the audience cheered me up with a deafening clapping. Proloyda beside me was my only sheet-anchor in the sea of difficulties that faced me. I felt no better than the poor goat that bleated as its neck lay locked in the slaughter-bloc before the goddess as we all – young and old – cheered and clapped during the sacrifice.
But the first note of Proloyda on the synthesizer did the thing. It seemed to remove from my locked senses the holds (=obstructions) and I sang. I do not know what I sang or how I sang. It seemed as if the goddess of Music sang for me. As I ended my song the whole auditorium rang with a mixed rumble (= noise) of applause, clappings; a couple of cameraman clicked their cameras. For the first time in my life my feelings were glutted with odd and pleasurable sensations. Two hands seemed to waive at me from the large gathering. May be my parents, I thought and later learnt that it were they indeed.
I came down the stage conducted by my brother. Many and sundry from the audience tendered their appreciation in various styles. I don’t know how my parents felt on the occasion. But the whole show caused within me a reaction for which I was least prepared.
It swept my feelings like a storm. My dainty, pretty senses were used to homely gatherings in schools or little social gatherings. However successful the songs, the praises had a heartiness and intimacy. But the loud, thunderous applause of the last evening the glare of the powerful lights, the hall overflowing with music and the and colourful audience seemed to sweep me off my floor. My feelings were choked inside. As I sat beside my parents [ could not contain my emotions and succumbed (= surrendered) to them as I hid my face within my palms.
