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Me, My Wife and Synthesizer
|by Prakash Pathre|
Being one of those days when one is with one's self, with nobody dictating terms, I decided to do dusting. Not that our maid does not do it but I am a bit fanatic about dusting my own things.
Knowing my dusting habits very well (!) my wife, in advance, warned me, 'Make it snappy dear. Don't forget. We have two complimentary tickets for that unique 'two men orchestra' in the evening.'
I was about to start my dusting detour with books, but my attention was drawn by a rectangular leather case that was full of dust. I pulled it down; cleaned it and opened it. It was very clean from inside encasing a four-octave Yamaha synthesizer gifted to me by my friend from Singapore. It had over a hundred sounds of different instruments and forty rhythms from waltz, rock and to the latest ones. The alternate white and black keys gave it a lovely look. It naturally reminded me of Sir Paul McCartney's famous 'Ebony and Ivory' song.
Although I had not gone beyond Do, Re, Mi.... and few nursery tunes, I could not stave off the temptation to run my fingers on the keys. The mixed sound of piano and organ pleased me. The sound that pleased me seemed to have opposite effect on my wife.
'Stop, stop that synthesizer of yours!' She came out from kitchen with a knife in her hand. I was taken aback. This was not the first time that I had played or tried to play the synthesizer in her presence. She, at one time, even had appreciated my talent and ear for music when in no time I could play her favorite tune.
So I was truly surprised by her reaction.
'Dear, dear! What's the matter?' I finally asked.
She had calmed down but was still sharp as the knife in her hand.
'I was not playing it at all my dear. I was just...' I meekly tried to defend.
Running my fingers on the keyboard purposely I said, 'Come on tell me what's the problem?'
Every word of hers was measured.
'Threat! What are you talking about? And tell me dear who has put this idea into your brains?' I did sound concerned.
But shaking her head more my wife continued, 'the maestro of Hindustani music said that in the wake of this unique invasion, other instruments like violin, sitar, veena, harmonium and shehnai etc. could become extinct in no time to become part of history.'
'But these are today's famous and hit songs and unless people like you like them they do not become hit.' I furnished the justification and continued, 'my dear, synthesizer has been in use since many years. So, I fail to understand this sudden agitation and step motherly voice against the one-in-all-in-one instrument? I personally see no valid and substantial reason in banning it. If somebody does not want it, let him not have it.' I finished my point off with a vigorous stroke of a piccolo sound.
'Your view point is right but what Naushad Sahib is saying is also not wrong.' My wife spoke in a mellowed tone.
'Look Naushad Sahib's time has gone. His word may be final but he has become old and his voice therefore cannot go far. So, who is going to listen to him.' I almost put her into quandary.
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