I carefully placed my veena in the corner of our new home, feeling the familiar weight of it in my hands. The quiet in the house was a comfort, and I was thankful for the space. As I gently tuned the strings, a sense of nervousness crept over me. The thought of playing freely again, like I once did in the privacy of my old home, excited me, but it also filled me with hesitation.
Outside, the city of Allahabad bustled with life, but inside our home, I wasn’t sure I could let myself be heard. What would the neighbors think if they heard me playing? I’ve always worried about how my music would be received, and here, in this new place, it was no different.
The house we now lived in was modest, smaller than our old one, but there was a certain charm to it. The sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow on everything. It was a peaceful space, yet I couldn’t shake the feeling of being disconnected. I was still adjusting to the new rhythm of life here.
Raghav ji worked long hours as a teacher at a local school, and while the city was alive with the sound of vendors and passersby, I often felt a sense of isolation in this new place.
One evening, after finishing the household chores, I sat by the window, gazing out at the busy streets below. The air was warm, and the city was full of life. But inside, the silence felt overwhelming, and I longed to hear the music of my veena again. My fingers twitched as I looked at the instrument, the desire to play rising within me. Yet, the fear of judgment, of not being accepted, held me back.
Just as I was about to put the veena away, I heard Raghav’s footsteps approaching. He entered the room, tired but with a warm smile.
“Aarti, are you playing?” he asked gently, noticing the veena in my hands.
I hesitated before speaking,“Raghav ji, main khelna chahti hoon, lekin... mujhe dar lagta hai ki agar padosi sunenge toh kya sochenge. Main nahi chahti ki unhe dikkat ho.”
(Raghav ji, I want to play, but... I’m afraid of what the neighbors might think. I don’t want to cause any trouble for them.)
He stepped closer and placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Aarti, tumhare paas ek khaas uphaar hai. Tumhe ise chhupana nahi chahiye. Tum yahaan khel sakti ho. Yahaan ka sheher thoda alag hai, lekin tumhe apna jagah milega.”
(Aarti, you have a special gift. You shouldn’t hide it. You can play here. This city may be different, but you’ll find your place.)
His words warmed me, and I felt a small spark of hope. I looked down at the veena, contemplating what he had said.
“Yeh ghar... jo humare paas hai, woh pehle wale ghar se chhota hai, lekin... mujhe yahaan bhi pasand aane laga hai. Galiyan, log, sab kuch alag hai jo maine pehle dekha,” I said, my voice soft.
(This house... it’s smaller than the one we had before, but... I’m starting to like it here. The streets, the people, everything is so different from what I’m used to.)
Raghav smiled gently. “Mujhe bhi yahaan acha lagta hai. Yahaan chhota hai, par yeh humara hai. Aur hum milkar isse apna bana lenge. Tumhara sangeet yahaan apni jagah paayega. Tumhein ise chhupane ki zarurat nahi hai. ”
(I like it here too. It may be small, but it’s ours. And together, we’ll make it ours. Your music will find its place here. You don’t have to hide it.)
His reassurance made my heart swell with gratitude. With his encouragement, I felt a little braver, a little more confident. For so long, I had suppressed my music, afraid of being judged, but now, with Raghav by my side, I felt like I could take a step forward.
Later that evening, as we sat together, I shared something I had learned earlier in the day.
I say, my voice quiet, hesitant. “Raghav ji, Main jaanti hoon ki yahaan avsar hain, lekin main... mujhe nahi pata kahan se shuru karun.”
(Raghav ji, I know there are opportunities here, but I... I don’t know where to start.)
He looks at me, his eyes softening with understanding. “Aarti Jaan, tumhein hamesha woh uphaar tha. Yahaan, is sheher mein, aur bhi mauke hain. Tum apna jagah dhundh logi badhne ke liye.”
(Aarti Jaan, you’ve always had that gift. Here, in this city, there are more chances. You will find your space to grow.)
I nods but remain uncertain. “Par... agar yahaan ke log itne swagat karne waale na ho? Agar woh sangeet ko meri tarah na samjhein?”
(But... what if the people here are not as welcoming? What if they don’t see music the way I do?)
He walks over and gently takes my hand. “Apne aap par vishwas rakho. Yahaan ek jagah hai - Prayag Samriti Sang, humse zyada door nahi. Yeh ek sangeet pathshala hai. Maine suna hai ki yeh tum jaise kalakaron ke liye accha jagah hai. Agar tum chaho, hum saath jaakar dekh sakte hain.”
(Trust yourself. There is a place here - Prayag Samriti Sang, not far from us. It’s a music school. I’ve heard it’s a good place for artists like you. If you want, we can go together and see.)
My heart quickens, a mixture of excitement and nervousness bubbling up inside me. I had heard of Prayag Samriti Sang before, but to know that it was so close, within reach, was something I hadn’t expected.
“kya aapko lagta hai ki mere liye wahan shamil hona theek hoga?,Raghav ji”, I ask, my eyes
searching his for reassurance.
(Do you think it would be okay for me to join?,Raghav ji)
His smile is warm, filled with quiet strength. “Jaan, tumhe darne ki koi zarurat nahi hai. Tumhare paas apna sangeet bajane ka hak hai. Kisi ko tumhe iske liye bechain karne ka haq nahi hai. Jaakar khud dekh lo.”
(Jaan, you have nothing to fear. You deserve to play your music. Don’t let anyone make you feel otherwise. Go and see for yourself.)
I feel a weight lifting from my shoulders, a surge of confidence rising within me. For the first time in a while, I allow myself to hope - a hope that I might be able to play without fear, hope that I might find a place where her music is welcomed.
“Shukriya, Raghav ji,” I say, my voice soft yet filled with gratitude.
(Thank you, Raghav ji)
He steps closer, his hand resting lightly on my shoulder. “Jaan, tumhe mujhe dhanyavaad dene ki zarurat nahi hai. Main tumpe vishwas karta hoon. Ab chalo, aaram karte hain.”
(You don’t need to thank me, Jaan. I believe in you. Now, let’s rest.)
Tomorrow, I would take that first step toward my dreams. With Raghav ji by my side, I knew I could face whatever came my way.
As we drifted off to sleep, the warmth of Raghav ji's presence beside me filled me with comfort, and the quiet hum of my music echoed in my heart. In this new city, with its bustling streets and unfamiliar faces, there was still a place for me - if I was brave enough to find it. And now, I felt ready to begin.
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