The Soul of Music

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Powerful but tender arms gently lifted me as I stepped into the arena. They were the arms of the sweet melodious music that filled the ceremonial air with joy in this part of the world. The sweet enchanting voice of the music persuaded me to dance. It was a dance that was not taught; a dance that was learnt from the very vibrant rhythms of the music itself. For a moment I was lost in my crazy dance steps, totally synchronized with the vibrations of the music. I turned around, catching myself in between my vibes. I couldn’t help admiring the joy and happiness that was lit on the faces of everyone my eyes fell upon.

I walked towards the source of the music, drawn by a mixture of enthusiasm and curiosity. The music was coming from a cone shaped hut which had no door, but simply had a small opening through which one could crawl in. A few minutes ago, it was just a mere hut, but now, it would be more properly described as a giant jukebox. I crawled into the jukebox, scanning the environment with my eyes. I stood up inside and for a moment the scenario seemed to have changed. It seemed as if I had just joined a network.

The music was loud but my eardrums did not complain. I felt like I was on top of a mountain. Only one of them seemed to have even noticed my entrance. They were all lost in the tune of their rhythms. Trying to behold all of them at once was like trying to put all the waters of the oceans in one cup. I zeroed in one of them, a drummer with just two drums. He was seating on one and the other drum was standing beside him, he beat the two rhythmically, his eyes were closed as he nodded in synchrony to the tune. I closed my eyes and held the vision in my eyes. The music definitely had a soul and I could feel it. These ancient instruments seemed to have been constructed by wise sages of old for they seemed to activate a part of the soul. It had a language and the soul could understand it.

The tempo of the music rose, engulfing me with thrill and excitement. I heard loud cheers outside and at once, I crawled out. The crowd where whistling around one of the masquerades who was chanting. I could swear it was better than any sort of poem I had ever heard. It rhythmically recited stories of old dancing to it as it sang. The music brought its chants to life, and people admired the masquerade with awe, some praising it and some spraying money on its face. The whole environment was enthralling. I asked myself a question? What does man live for if not to be happy? What happiness on earth is greater than this? Yet, the most painful fact of all was that, this perfection was under the threat of extinction, by none other but man himself!

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The Dream

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Closing the door of his car, he found himself alone on a strange road. From this part onwards, the road was not motorable. He could see the abandoned building now. It was located at a distance of about 5 minutes walk from his current position. Crows were perched on top of the devastated roof as if it was their true home.

He recited the instructions he had been given. It was a key he could not do without. For the first time, he fully noticed the weird environment. The ground had a color like that of a stagnated pool filled with algal bloom, and green dust seemed to issue out from the from the very core of the earth, constructing a green cloud up to a level of about 1 foot from the ground. Looking forward, mud could be seen clogging the road. The water left by flooding had constructed several pools and filled natural potholes. Black flies were perched on the water. The trees had strangely bent branches of ash color and pale brown leaves as if they had been stricken with some sort of disease, and the sky had a strange orange coloration. The oxygen-starved air made it seem as if he was breathing fire rather than air. There was no sound except the rustle of the leaves and the faint intermittent sounds in the bushes.

Necessity and purpose increased his pace. A little terror gripped him as he remembered his last warning. He had no weapon to defend himself except hope. Now and then his leg seemed to hit a stone as he waded in the mud. Suddenly, dark flies filled the air, blinding his view and playing a horrible music of silence. They danced around him nauseatingly, each time trying to enter through his nose, eyes, mouth, ears and any opening they could find. Involuntarily, he covered his head with his shirts and was surprised at the strength and speed which his legs carried him, ignoring the splattering mud that joyfully clung to his clothes as he ran. More and more flies joining the chase until he was far away from their quiet pools. He felt his heartbeat slow down as he stopped finally. If Ikenna had not known about this one, he wandered what could be waiting for him inside the hall.

He could see the stone walls of the hall very clearly now. They were still intact, but the windows seemed to have given up. He approached the door, a little fire of enthusiasm kindling inside. He admired the ancient strong oak door. It seemed to have been there for years. He gripped the cold handle and pushed gradually. Suddenly the door split ajar, and he fell inside the darkness. The sudden pang he felt in his heart made it seem as if he had just returned from the dead. Reality dawned on him. Here he was, completely alone, tricked and helpless. Terror filled his brains as he thought of death. He tried to stand, but it seemed as if he had turned to ice. Even his blood seemed to have stopped rushing. His feet were glued to the floor and the only weapon he had was no more. Hope had abandoned him. He could hear some footsteps now. His cold body was dripping with sweat. Suddenly, his body started to jerk spasmodically.

“Chika!” shouted a voice he knew so well. He opened his eyes to find himself peering into her sister’s eyes.

“What kind of sleep is this? Your friends have been waiting for you” she said and left the room sighing.

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