Why this particular day turned out so gloomy, nobody knew. Actually, it wasn't just the day—the entire city was dreary: grey houses, sullen people. Though the city looked this way every single day.
Mother Nature couldn't manage and couldn't add any bright colours. Despite the sun shining brightly and the leaves of trees humming their little song, the city remained gloomy. People with downcast heads, rushing somewhere, successfully pushed Mother Nature into the background.
None of the grey, sullen passersby, who all looked alike, noticed anyone or anything around them. A grey mass walked down a grey street. It seemed that each of them saw only their own problems. No one had any interest in looking around to see what else was there.
Well, no one except a lonely violinist who played masterfully on the street under a large, sprawling tree near a shop. He alone painted the space around him with harmonious melodies, awakening nature and coaxing it to sing along with his violin.
Through his playing, he simultaneously expressed sadness and joy, malice and love, giving each note a piece of his own multifaceted soul. His instrument sometimes howled desperately, like wind in a storm, and sometimes sang a tender lullaby to nature, as if a caring mother were singing a song to her child.
The beautiful melody flowing from the violin reached young Maryam that day as she was returning from the shop with a string bag in her hands. She heard the magnificent sound of the instrument from far away. The song caressed her, called to her. And though she was poor, she was ready to give the master violinist the last coins she had left after her purchases.
As soon as Maryam stopped near the musician, the sounds of the melody enveloped her and began to gently caress her hearing. The girl felt as if she were lying in a soft bed. No, the sound was like a cloud—soft and airy, tender and warm, just as the violinist wanted to convey it.
But Maryam was certain that the angels themselves were singing to her. And the violinist didn't stop; he played for his young listener. The long fingers of his hands fluttered masterfully over the thin strings, while the other hand virtuously controlled the bow. The girl remembered the coins she wanted to give the violinist. She looked around, but found neither a hat, nor a box, nor a case for the instrument near the musician.
The confused girl quietly asked the man:
Why don't you take money? You play so beautifully. You could earn a lot of money.
The master stopped playing, and immediately the girl returned to the grey, gloomy city in which she had always lived. The cheerful, bright colours of nature instantly disappeared with the last note of the violin.
Do birds get paid for their flight?
The musician answered with a question.
But he saw the bewildered Maryam and quickly added:
Music is a gift from God that calls us upward. It gives life, wraps everything around us in joy. When we listen to it, wings grow. I put my life into it, and it puts itself into me. Music lives, reviving everything around it, creates, but cannot destroy. It opens the gates of immortality for us, allows the soul to soar. Are you still wondering why I don't take money for sending my soul and dreams into flight?
When she got home, Maryam thought long about the musician's words. The violinist left them deep in the girl's heart. Maryam fell in love with music. It became her first love. She never met the violinist again, but she mentally promised him that she too would become a musician.
But Maryam's family was very poor, so there was no money for an instrument, let alone a teacher. But the girl didn't give up. She did everything a thirteen-year-old child could do to save money for an instrument.
She wasn't afraid of any work, even though it paid mere pennies. Her parents saw how the girl didn't walk but simply flew toward her cherished dream. They were good parents, so they helped the girl collect the needed amount, making it a birthday gift.
The violin was the cheapest, but for Maryam it became the most precious, the most dear. It was her first instrument, and she loved it as much as she loved music itself.
Time passed, Maryam studied, mastered the basics and secrets of music, and many years later she played in exactly the same way under that same sprawling tree near the shop. She also didn't take money for playing, just like her idol. She didn't know his name and had seen him only once.
Sometimes Maryam thought that he wasn't human at all, because she had never heard such playing before. And she herself didn't play like that master, though she tried very hard. "What is his secret?" Maryam wondered.
This day the girl had a special mood. She didn't want to convey smooth and tender melodies to passersby. Today's repertoire would be lively, cheerful, and fast melodies. She gently touched the bow to the thin strings, and something special sounded, which became an ornament to everything around.
Maryam almost began to dance while her violin sang merrily. She tapped her foot to the rhythm of the music and gave a smile to each passerby.
All the same, even after many years, the city hadn't changed at all. Everyone was still rushing somewhere, and only a few responded to the musician with a smile in return. Suddenly, four strong young men approached Maryam. It was immediately clear that they were native inhabitants of this dreary city, and the girl violinist couldn't do anything about it.
Get out of here!
One of the young men said angrily.
You've brought cheer here!
The girl was confused but didn't stop playing. The melody only slowed down, and Maryam cautiously took a few steps to the side. But the drunk men didn't calm down and continued to bother her. One came closer to the frail girl and pushed her on the shoulder. She almost fell, stopped playing, and looked at the strangers with big brown eyes.
Didn't you understand?
One of the ruffians could barely move his tongue.
What am I doing wrong?
Maryam, slightly frightened, spoke up.
Just because you're in a bad mood doesn't mean everyone else should be.
And the girl took a small step toward her offenders.
What did you say, woman?
One of the young men snatched the violin from Maryam's hands, struck it against his knee so hard that the fragments of the instrument flew at the girl.
Let's go!
He commanded, and all four of them left.
The offended girl began to collect the pieces of her first and beloved instrument. She fell to her knees, and tears streamed from her eyes.
No, how dare they, how could they!
Muttered the crying Maryam to herself. Tears ran down her cheeks as she held the broken violin to herself. At that moment, she became part of this dreary grey little city, and the spark in her heart that the violinist had given her many years ago went out. She couldn't figure out how she would play now, or if she could play on another violin at all. She didn't need another one; this one couldn't be repaired.
Why are you crying, lovely young beauty?
Maryam heard behind her back.
She turned to the passerby. An elderly man in a grey demi-season coat and a dark hat with wide brim stood over the bent musician. He shifted his cane from one hand to the other, examining the broken violin. He looked at the girl and smiled faintly. Maryam wanted to share her sorrow with him; she wasn't embarrassed that she was seeing him for the first time.
This is my first instrument.
Her voice trembled.
My parents gave it to me for my birthday. Many years have passed since then, but I've never parted with it. It was my best friend. I'm not sure I can pick up another instrument or if I can play at all.
Her voice became very quiet, and tears flowed again.
Music is a gift from God that draws us upward. It gives life, wraps everything around us in joy. When we listen to it, wings grow. Surely you don't think those young men broke them along with the violin? Music opens the gates of the future for us, gives us the ability to soar. You will be able to soar with any instrument, if, of course, you know how to do it.
Every word of the stranger gave Maryam confidence; her eyes began to shine. She recognized the magnificent violinist by the words he spoke.
The girl smiled, excitement overwhelmed her, but she found the strength to ask:
Is it really you, that same virtuoso violinist who spoke those words to me many years ago? Since then I've been playing the violin, thank you! But I can't play as beautifully as you did. What is the secret of mastery?
Maryam asked.
Most likely your violin was playing, not your soul. Try to send your soul into flight and the melody will follow it.
The old man smiled imperceptibly.
Now Maryam understood his words completely differently. She understood that it wasn't the melody and the violin that should fly, but her soul. Music had given her wings at that first meeting with the violinist. And now the girl was confident that she could play as beautifully as her inspiration. No, she wouldn't play—she would soar.
Yes, it really was you.
Happy Maryam said affirmatively.
Yes, it was me. But now you become the one who can give a young girl a dream, who can show her where to find wings.
Having said these words, the old man dissolved and disappeared. And Maryam, looking at the broken violin, found it was completely whole.
Music can give wings to every person. They want to become a bird to fly away from all existing problems. Some try to flap these wings, thinking they're soaring, when they're just walking confidently on the ground. But only birds know how to fly. And the wings that music gives us can be used by only a few…
These are the happiest people… But it's worth it. It's never too late to learn.
