2016

On a tropical land in a faraway place, there is an institution. An institution of learning that is known worldwide. Tucked against a long white wall near the common washrooms, a lonely upright piano stood. Decorated with a wooden time-like design piece and accompanied by a small meek stool, it waited for anyone who was brave enough to approach it. Everyday, at least once, someone would come up and take up the challenge to interact with it. Most executed it beautifully as their nimble fingers pounded or danced on the keys with seemingly utmost perfection. Few with the encouragement of their friends, tried. Broken yet beautiful. Unsynchronised yet mesmerising. Despite their rather poor pieces, their bravery and willingness to learn astounds others. If not others, perhaps that spectator in the distance. He or she who stands quietly from afar as they watched and listened. Their eyes focused and hearts moved by those who are courageous. They are dreamers. Dreamers beacuse they lack courage. Dreamers because they give excuses. Dreamers because they ironically rejects their dream and choose to miserably stay within the boundaries of reality

Yet in the mind of a lone girl, she was sick of just spectating. She yearned for more.

One day, she stood fidgeting nearby the washrooms. Pretending she was waiting for a friend, she kept a lookout of the crowd flow on that floor. It was way past lunch hour and its still far away from dinner time. There were only few people who passed by the area. Not wanting to give anymore excuses to herself, she crept slowly towards the lonely piano. She stared at it. Her fingers brushing gently against the heavy keys. Not a sound yet she had already imagined what it would sound like. The piano watched her every move yet did not budge. The girl sat herself down and pushed her glass up her nose bridge. With a deep breath, she lifted her right hand and slowly played a piano piece she dearly loved. She had no practice in reality but technology has presented her with many platforms to develop her dream. By ear, she played the melody. By memory, she pressed the right keys. Yet with only her right hand, the piece she have always love did not come out the way she wanted to. There were holes in her piece. It was like a large room with the basic furniture but without the little things that makes one feel at home. It was like knowing you are loved and have love someone for a long time through their actions but without the oral validation of perhaps 'i love you' makes the former love incomplete. She played the piece entirely with only her right hand. At first, she was embarassed and the music was soft. However, noticing that she did not catch anyone's attention, she began to move more openly. Her head bobbed and swayed to the melody of her right-hand piece. The keys were pushed further down, the piano sang her song. It bore no grudges to anyone who played it whether they were of skill or lacking thereof. Their stories are still stories and it felt that it's purpose was to deliver them in a way that words cannot. The abstract and the raw emotions simply compounded within their pieces. For her, it was the right hand melody.

2017

A new year came around and the girl was excited to meet the piano again. Like old friends, she greeted the lonely piano with a warm smile and without the slightest worry, sat down and played the same piece with only her right hand. As mentioned before, her music was incomplete but what can she do. She can only play with her right hand. Her left hand might as well be invisible as it limply stood at the side watching. Unable to train her left arm, she devoted her time in polishing the piece with her right hand. Everyday much more clearer and smoothly the melody danced in her ears. Yet, the emptiness still hung in the air. As she was playing one day, her piece slowly started to take a complete form. Her eyes widened. Her heartbeat quickened. The music seemed to come from someone beside her. Her right hand slowed down till it came to a stop. As her music stopped, so did the other. She slowly glanced to her right  and there it stood. Another upright piano and the person who was playing it was...a stranger. She looked blankly at him and so did he. 

"So, I heard you only play right-handed?" his question broke our silence.

The girl kept silent yet her eyes displayed a sense of bewilderment. He chuckled.

"Umm, words do go around campus you know? If not words, your music does say something?" he explained.

Curious about his question, the girl asked in return.

"What...does my music...erm...tell you?" her words barely a whisper.

His gentle countenance gave way to a playful smile.

"It says that it is lonely. Like the piano that you are playing on has been calling out everyday with it's unwavering silence. So, I and this newly placed piano will be your friends," he said confidently.

Newly installed piano? The girl quickly scanned the object in front of him. She must have been caught up playing the piano she was used to till she did not notice the company it had gained while she was away. A rather brand new looking piano. Ah, a friend. Not waiting for the girl's reply, the boy played the piece again. However, he could only play with his left hand. Ah, he was like me, she thought as she noticed the limp long sleeve. Not wanting to leave the piece incomplete, the girl quickly regained her composure and played with her right hand. Together and in sync, they delivered the best performance of that piece in a long while. Satisfied by the sudden collaboration, she took down his number and formed a frienship she hoped to last for a long time.

On another fateful day as she was rushing for her next class, another challenger has once again brave themselves to converse with the old piano. Smiling, she slowed her step and stood awhile to give it a listen. Ah, I know this song, she said in her head. Suddenly, the melody of the piano was beautifully accompanied by the sounds of the violin and the flute. It created something else. An exlplosion of harmony filled the air and disregarding that she was late for her class, she ran up the flight up of stairs to them. Desperate to catch such a beautiful performance live, she willed her unathlethic legs and untrained lungs to get herself to where she needed to be. As she was standing in a distance, her eyes were fixed on that collaboration as she panted heavily. Her eyes shining bright once again. People who passed her gave disapproving looks but she was not afraid. Not now when she had done something even more daring. As the performance came to a close, she listened to it well and took it in with a grateful heart. Once it has ended, she brought her hands together and with all her might she gave the loudest and perhaps the only standing applause to them. Confused, they turned their backs and were surprised to see me or so I thought for only one of them, the pianist, the boy she knew. The violinist who was wearing a pair of dark shades gave a warm smile. The one with the flute just looked at her blankly as though unaware of what was happening but noticing that I was clapping in their direction, his face turned bright red.

It was complete. The melody was as though even more perfected with the sounds of the flute and the violin. Even with the boy's left handed piece, the violinist and the flutist (is there even such a term) made it even more whole. The girl stared in shock. After some time, her friend, the pianist, beckoned her towards the piano. He took his spot with the new piano stool and pushed me in his previous seat. Flustered, I obeyed without arguing. 

"Let's play together and make more friends shall we?" he said to her with a kind smile as he motioned a series of actions towards the flutist.

Hand signs, that is strange, she thought briefly before simply casting the thought away.

"Ah, can you guide her towards us?" her friend motioned her to aid the violinist.

Is it too dark, I mean she could see better if she just stopped wearing those shades even indoors, the girl gave an unsuspecting thought.

Once they were in place, her eyes sparkled and she began to look at the violinist and the flutist faces once more. The rest nodded in agreeement and gave their most encouraging smiles. The girl readily agreed. If they can colour her story even more beautifully, who was she to refuse it.

"Okay 1, 2.."he said and mouthed the words at the same time.

Once again, she played with only her right hand. Her friend played with only his left hand. The violinist and flutist played along beautifully. The girl smiled the widest smile in ages as she danced enchantingly to her newly created story. A story where she was finally not alone and just dreaming. She was finally becoming and living the dream she had thought of. The quartet danced to the girl's piece in new ways she never knew or heard of. Her eyes teared up as she finally realised the meaning behind her newly evolved piece. As her piece came to a close, the girl ended up crying and staring at the trio who surrounded her. She leapt up and enveloped them in a tight embrace before slowly letting go and giving a 90 degrees bow in front of what seem like a crowd that was pulled in by their breath-taking performance.

"Thank you!" she exclaimed with as much sincerity and appreciation she could convey.

Her friend's lack of a right hand, the violinist lack of the ability to see and the flutist lack of hearing, they were able to recognise her cry. Her initial and persistent cry of her right-hand piece. Unlike them, the girl was physically whole yet mentally fragmented. The trio simply came into her life and mended the broken pieces into place and healed it with her new-found piece. They added meaning to a seeming empty right-hand melody. They taught her an unspeakeble lesson of perserverance and never giving up on your dream. To be fearless and brave. Since that day, that performance was given the name, the Right Hand Symphony. The right hand melody's desperate plea for company and the birth of something beyond this world. The Right Hand Symphony.