The Man who composed Eternal Music

The day Violin, Viola and the Cello’s strings bled and the bows wept in mourning.

The day Harmonium’s bellows quit breathing and the metal reeds went rust.

The day flute holes splintered and forgot the warmth of the human breath.

The day three trumpet valves lost control and every breath that was blown in spilled out as a requiem.

The day Mridangam and Tabla’s mouths sucked in the fingers laid on them and churned out a relentless ostinato until their mouths shattered into shards.

The day guitar picks sliced off the fingers who tried to pick them up to play on the strings.

The day the baton overmastered the conductor, and the chaotic vibrations radiated from the instruments splintered the dome’s glass plates ascending towards the heaven to accompany his soul.

The day when seven strings of the veena struck, seven chakras exploded and fragments of light (prana) scattered across the chambers of the soul.

The day piano’s felted hammers struck like sledge hammers and the intense vibrations jolted the keys to pop out with a violent thrust.

The day Jal Tarang bowls grew frail, even a gentle strike exploded the ceramic and the shards pierced through the skin bleeding a red river.

The day each of your composed music symbols disoriented and unleashed as a Dies Irae, a hymn which can only be conducted by god.

The day the Sopranos suffocated, Tenors tormented, Basses bathed in blood and Altos alienated.

The day the world fell into shambles.