Before we drown | ✓

seven | drumming rolls

— July, 2012

       Strings of hearts or be it any entanglements of real life; always have something to pull hard— tada! A melodic sound, if you pull up the right minor chord. The slow breeze is gushing near the hall room now. Everyone's gone or some, still planning their secret mission to get finished first.

        Elan is strolling in the empty hall, where a pin drop silence reverberates; it's the opposite in the morning. Pulling the straps of her bag in the shoulder, she lazily walks down there. She doesn't feel like going today. For now, she just wants to walk and walk until something hard knocks her into a dark pool of water where the splashes continue to hustle.

       As if in cue, a vibration of melody echoes in the end—nearly fainting her ears too. Her eyes glisten with rare joy, ears perked up with the sudden change —she decides to find the core of the jingling sound.

      The last room's door in the corner; is slightly ajar. It's their music room, rarely people go there when today's generation cares least about playing instruments. She goes up and watches with her agape mouth—

      Evan is pulling the strings of guitar one after another, where with hard pulling —they're ringing up, blaring the silent critters roaming around. His eyes are closed, she conjured it's not the first time Evan is playing it. His slender fingers moving upwards and downwards; he's lost in the realm.

      It's the first time Elan is seeing this form of Evan. To be honest, how many are there? They've known each other for nearly one & half years now yet she deduces, there's a lot beneath the shades of those smiles.

    Finally, with the last flicking note— Evan ended the song. "When did you come here?" Evan asks her with a buffed expression.

     "When you were busy, pulling the strings attached there. Tell me, you didn't break your hands or the guitar strings!" Elan jokingly said.

     Evan gives her a hard glance. It's been one month since the incident of Maryam. He's been distant, neither of them speak with each other very closely. "I just needed a moment. So when I come here, music soothes my mind," he replies momentarily.

      "Wow! I might have presumed, you would've said it better leaves the frustration as well. You play well," she says genuinely this time.

       "Thanks, do you play any instrument? Perhaps, a pianist —my deducing: with your slender stylish fingers? He says with amusement.

     "Huh— you wish! I'm a drummer! I like to stick my drumsticks on the rolls until it bleeds out," she says, flicking her hairs —even though she assumes maybe she can get answers there.

      "Amazing! Why don't we start then?"

      "Of course, only if you play the guitar as well with a soft core & mine, would be hard core."

      "Deal!"

      After the tolling of the first strings pulled together, Elan's drum sticks started to roll on the floor with a thudding sound. It's not a lie, it's a way to deal with her frustration. She beats and beats, until the hammering sound echoes in eternity. Whereas Evan is pulling out the strings of melodic minor. A combination that oozes out the serenity yet chaos together.

       Finally with the exhaling breath, Elan beats for the last time and huffs out. "Awe-striking! You didn't joke right there. Have you always played like this?"

       "Yeah, until my mom & sister died." Elan says while pulling her sweaty hair into a ponytail.

       Evan's face became sardonic. "I'm sorry."

       "No, don't be!"

      "It's really admirable how you always pull yourself together even after all of those. Do you think people can die many times yet survive?" Evan asks with a melancholy.

        "Nothing extraordinary or pretentious, just doing what people say living. Frankly, even if you die there — you have to be reborn, to be called—survival for better or worse," Elan adds.

      I wish I had the courage like you, Evan muses absentmindedly. His phone rang—

       "Hello! Yes, mom! Why couldn't you pick him? Aha, fine!" He cuts the call after a brief silence.

      "Sorry, I gotta go. I have to pick up Orion  from his art classes. Hope that you will be at the music festival next month."

       Evan rushes off with his backpack before Elan could question or reply back.

. . .