Somewhere! (Hunaak!) (10 page)

“
Husam please!! Just spend four more days here, only four days… That would be three or four minutes in your world, I beg you!!” — She said.

Those tears would melt stone. Imagine what they had done to my heart.

“But if that time passed I would get stuck here, isn’t that so?” — I said as I calmed down.

“
Husam, I know exactly when you must return. At that time, I swear, I will send you back myself if you still wanted to leave me. I swear to God!” — Malak replied.

I stood up and lifted her from under her arms to stand
up, I wiped off her tears with my hand.

“
OK, stop those tears, please I can’t bear to see them!” — I said.

She
lied her forehead on my chest and started punishing me.

“
You want to kill me you fool!” — she said.

“
God forbid Malak!” — I replied.

“
Let’s go! Enough drama moments! We will be late for our appointment with Mr. Ludwig!”
—
She said with a cheerful German accent that still soaked with tears.

Her arm slid underneath mine as she pulled me away. A silver sphere appeared in front of us as it slowly ascended blocking the horizon completely. It was a Zeppelin! An aircraft that had disappeared by the time of the jet engine, a small wooden cabin carried by an oval balloon almost the size of the place I lived in now. It stopped exactly next to us allowing me and Malak to board as it flew us off to meet with Mr. Ludwig.

The Zeppelin landed in a yard in front of an old tube-like building that was decorated with columns and engravings that praised the Renaissance.

The building was a luxurious theater. It had Aristocracy written all over it. Its walls
echoed a musical symphony, unlike the music I had heard at Mr. Leonardo’s Castle, it was not a single instrument playing a soft tune, but tens of instruments joined in an epic battle. As we entered the main hall, I could see there was actually an entire orchestra, led by Mr. Ludwig, nervously playing the piano raising his hand from time to time to instruct his team. Malak abandoned me again after she sat me directly in front of Mr. Ludwig and she moved to sit at the far back of the empty hall. Of course I did not dare to even bother him with the sound of my breath as he was at the climax of his excitement.

His long silver hair was matching his fingers
’
excitement and the drops of sweat pouring off of the piano keys. Without warning... he stopped; he raised his hand commanding everyone to stop, his head was still facing the piano’s keys and with his eyes closed, he made his way through the musicians who looked like they would drop dead any minute in terror. He suddenly stopped next to a girl that was  playing the violin.

There were more than twenty violin musicians but he stood at this musician
’s feet, she shivered when he opened his eyes

“
What are you doing?!” — Mr. Ludwig screamed at the girl.

She could not gather the courage to respond. Nervous sweat invaded her forehead as did a pink hue in her cheeks while her eyes were frozen to the ground.

“Whaaat are you doing?!! Have you too gone deaf?!” — Mr. Ludwig ensued.

“
I was playing my instrument sir!” — the girl replied.

“
True. You were playing… just playing!” — Mr. Ludwig said.

He raised his head with clear anger. He addressed everyone shouting angrily:

“If there is anyone here who ever thought that she or he was coming here just to play, leave at once!” — Mr. Ludwig said defiantly.

He snatched the violin from the girl and started playing with the same
speed of the symphony.

“
Why do you play? A girl like you should stay at home! To clean, cook and milk cows! A sweet girl like you cannot attack a symphony such as this! Are you cuddling your violin? What do you think it is? Your cheesy boyfriend? Your stupid lover?” — He continued scolding her without ever looking at her.

Her cheeks turned red causing her freckles to dissapear. Her nose became red hot and her nostrils widened and contracted as she took deep breaths with clear anger. She could not take Mr. Ludwig’s insults, she snatched back her violin and she let out the savage lioness that was hidden behind her freckles and sweetness as her claws attacked on the poor violin’s neck. As she firmly held it between her cheek and shoulder, she scratched up its cords with utter savagery, she did not notice the slight smile that was on Mr. Ludwig’s face for an instant before he returned.

He completed his legendary symphony. The hairs at the back of my neck stood in respect, his tea
m
—more like an army battalio
n
—
had just survived a battle that was about to wipe them out, they laid down their weapon instruments, took a breath, wiped their seats… all but Mr. Ludwig, who pulled out a bunch of papers from his jacket’s inner pocket and started writing down some notes.

The papers were crowded with lines and musical notes. He was crossing some out and adding others as I quietly approached him.

“Are you Beethoven? Ludwig van Beethoven?! I remember you and this symphony, it is your aaaa… Fifth Symphony as I recall? Is that correct? The Fifth or The Ninth?”
—
I whispered into his hear.

My naive question was not worthy of an answer at any account and that is exactly what happened.
He completely ignored me.

“
Oh what amazing gift deafness is!” — he said.

He then removed his small earpiece and set it aside.

“How great it is for one to hear what he wants, and have a deaf ear to what he doesn’t!” — he said.

“
Now I remember! You went deaf!” — I said.

“
That is true!” — he said.

“
Do you not hear me now?” — I asked.

“
I do not hear you!” — he replied.

“
But… but how? Do you read the movement of my lips?” — I asked.

“
I do not hear you with my ears!” — he replied.

Every word that he said confused me even further.

“You hear because of the vibrations of the small ear drum. As for me, every atom of my being feels the vibration of sound… every cell in my body has turned into a delicate listening ear!” — he said.

“
I had always wondered how you would compose music without even hearing it!” — I said.

“
My sense of hearing had faded over the years, until it was completely gone. I tried to end my life, I almost committed suicide, but as I approached death a new life was born!” — he added as if he was hinting to something.

As you would expect, I was writing every detail down in my notebook.

“Seeing death face to face made me wonder: is life not worthy of a last challenge? And, in any case, I will not lose more than I have already lost!” — he continued.

“
But suicide is a crime for losers!” — I said.

“
I found out that I was dead amongst the living… so I decided to live after my death!” — he added.

He finally looked at me and said
—

“
There is no suicide worst than living without meaning, challenge, achievement and without making history! This is not life but a waste of planet Earth’s oxygen!”

“
Mr. Husam, if you have no real intention to change history… then you are wasting both your time and mine!” — he continued.

If I told him that my highest aspiration was to secure a job
–
any job
– along with a nice salary, wife and house rent, he would have found out that I was a corpse walking on this earth, bleeding off its resources and did not deserve a single sip of its oxygen!

I ignored all of that thinking in the back of my mind and said this compulsory sentence with the utmost austerity:

“I shall change history Mr. Ludwig!”

He opened up the piano
’s cover and struck one of the thick cords, it emitted a mellow tune. He then placed his hand near the cord as if he was enjoying its vibration as they tickled his fingers…

“
What do you want to learn from me then?” — he asked.

I am afraid that if I said
“music”, I would face the same fate of that poor girl, the questions of these organization’s leaders are like traps to prove my stupidity in my face, so I came up with a new answer.

“
I want to know how you became the greatest musician.” — I said.

“
Musician?!!” — he replied.

I was eating through my memories to find everything I knew about him in an attempt to avoid impending
embarrassment. I remembered his symphonies, his achievements, not to mention his temper. I retracted just prior to his rampage:

“
I meant, Composer!” — I quickly replied.

“
I compose music! You live in the fourteenth year after two thousand, isn’t that so?” — he replied.

“
True!” — I said.

“
Unbelievable?! You mean to tell me that in all this time no one has superseded me?!” — he replied.

“
No!” — I said.

“
That is truly funny. I am still the greatest musician? After two centuries? I was an outcast amongst aristocrats and banned from entering the orchestra halls.”  — he said.

“
What?!” — I asked.

“
They could not accept the success of a pail shot deaf like myself over them, I also did not have the time for preen and flattery to blend in, I was occupied with music, and with kicking those who mutilated it whenever I got the chance to!” — he added.

“
Who are you talking about Mr. Beethoven? You are a miracle that changed the history of music! All of the European nations chose
Ode to Joy
, which you used as your final movement for your Ninth Symphony as a symbol that represents them for forty years now!”

“
It is sad that they would battle against greatness when it came, and only praised it once it was gone! The sorrow for my death before seeing my victory was not nearly as big as my sorrow for my enemies for not tasting their defeat!” — he added.

He
swallowed his bitterness.

“
Do you know what music is?” — he asked me.

He ignored the dumb look on my face as he continued:

“Music is synergy… synergy of sounds, synergy of shapes, synergy of souls; life is but a sweet smooth symphony, some of us agree with its tones, and others don’t, rejecting it so it rejects them!” — he added.

The symphony of lif
e
– I wrote down my comment as he went on.

“
What we play is but an eurythmic simulation of the tunes that are bubbling inside our souls, as we try to translate them through these instruments!” —
–
Beethoven said as if he was listening to a symphony inside his soul.

A symphony flowed from the depths of his soul through his fingers that started playing the piano as it interacted with his emotions, like a background that we designed specifically for each word he said:

“Music is what breathes life into the ideas around us,
love
(he said fondly, as his music slowed);
anger
(he said with fury, as his music pitched) and
sadness
(he said with grief, as his music came to a halt).”

True! If I said these words without the tunes that reflect them they would lose their meaning. In fact, someone might say words of love while his tunes emit hate, or say words of courage and strength while their accent is torn with fear and hesitation!

“Music is the last step in emitting these emotion
s
—
it is just a fram
e
—
what is more important is what was in the depths of that frame!” — he said.

“
Mr. Beethoven, you remind me of The String Theory” — I said.

"The String Theory?!"

“It is one of modern theories that explain the creation and the basics of matter and energy: It states that everything around us is, but a pack of cords, each infinitely small with its characteristics defined by its vibration and its interactions by its harmony” — I explained.

“
And do we need theories and proofs to know that existence is harmonious and balanced?!” — he added.

“
Sit!” — he commanded me as he jumped off of the piano’s chair.

The moment of my greatest embarrassment had
come!

I, who had not played anything in my life other than the first crippled seconds of
Happy Birthday
, or “Ahwak” or “Ya tayba Al Galb”… have to play now in front of Beethoven in the flesh and blood?! I sat on the chair and stretched out my shivering fingers. I decided to attempt to play the song from
Titanic
that I had played with Malak. My shivers disappeared with my tapping on the piano.