“You should go for a fortississimo. Look carefully, the triple f written in italics”, Tilak ji exclaimed irately. He looked furious. Without uttering a word, I carefully looked at the sheet and saw the indication on the second verse: fff. “How could I miss it?”I thought, and berated myself. Even though I had been reminded a number of times, I hadn’t been able to focus properly

on the indications penned on the piano notation sheet. Everyone around looked at me with their

eyes wide open. The woman sitting on the bench beside me was so traumatised by the fierce voice of the conductor that she did not became aware of her huge cello slipping off her hand.

I finally garnered enough courage to speak. “Sorry, Tilak ji. I will be more careful from now on. I just misread the instruction.”

“Misread? Is that what you just said?” He was losing his temper. I often got confused between fortississimo and prestissimo. The former meant ‘start soft and move to very-very loud’ and the latter meant ‘play as fast as possible, but softly’. There were so many baffling terms in that piece that even pronouncing all of them right was tough, forget about knowing their meaning. Even after a year-long practice and hard work, I hadn’t been able to grasp their meaning correctly. But then, we were supposed to perform pretty soon and all I knew was that I had to do it right and prove myself.

Calming himself down, Tilak ji finally said, “You aren’t here to make such stupid mistakes. There isn’t much time left. Let’s do it once more. And please, do not even miss a single note written.” Everybody got back to their position, turning their pages to the right one.

“You,” he said, pointing to a middle-aged man. “Yes, you. Play the clarinet part once again. I would like to see that you’re doing it right.” Without hesitating, the man began to play the melody. The sound of the clarinet alone made the room amicable. I could see Tilak ji’s acrimony fading away with the soothing tone of the instrument.

“Well done, Mr Alok. But you should focus more on the attacca. You paused before jumping over to the next section.” Alok nodded without uttering a word.

“Okay, everyone. Get ready with your instruments. We’re doing it once again,” he reached out for his baton.

We started playing the composition right from the start. The violin players played their notes, coordinating with the movement of Tilak ji’s hand, and they went along well. But again, one of the cello players delayed her note, thus interrupting the flow. Tilak ji’s face crinkled up and he began to yell at her.

“How many times have I told you to follow the note properly? How are you going to perform on that day if you make such mistakes?”

“Sorry, sir. It’s just that…”

“No, no. There isn’t time for me to listen to your stupid excuses. Please play the verse again without making mistakes.” She hurriedly put the bow right on top of her cello and began to play the aria in the C scale.

“Good, you played the notes correctly. I hope you get your timing right,” he said hastily, before adding, “Everyone, this is the last time we’re practicing. Please do your best and put in your full effort.”  

His baton swung into a rhythmic motion, following which, the musicians played their respective instruments. The musical exuberance gripped the surrounding once again. It was Mozart after all. After a minute of refreshing harmony, it was my turn to play the piano. My fingers started running through the black and white keys. The sound of piano and strings made for a great combination. And this time around, the fortississimo no longer confused me.

Finally, after a foolproof rehearsal that lasted for about 22 minutes, the concerto came to an end. All of us breathed a sigh of relief. Tilak ji’s face radiated with happiness.

“That’s the flow I needed. Congratulations, all of you. You finally did it,” he said jubilantly. There was no question that he was in high spirits.

 I could see his eyes burning with euphoria. Rivulets of sweat were streaming down from his wrinkled face.

His face made me comprehend what Mozart had tried to speak through his music. It was not just the combination of tones that made his music immortal. His music is more like a mosaic of emotions flawlessly expressed in the language of music. And we finally realised we couldn’t take it for granted.