Quite suddenly this afternoon, for no particular reason, I was reminded of the time in high school when I decided to join the school band.
Cannot recollect if it had a name or it was just called school band. I wanted to be a part of my friends from class who played the bugle! This was the most popular instrument on the band or at least the one most auditioned for.
There was an underlying reason why some students had signed up for the band.
Memory doesn't serve me well but I think it was the following:
The band played for the morning assembly and then regrouped for practice immediately as well as during PT sessions.
This gave a legitimate chance for the boys to skip the boring first period - which was probably Kannada or Hindi (any subject for that matter would warrant a bunk!) and also avoid the seemingly torrid PT classes held under strict vigil of the PT masters.
I was not even sure I was looking for an escape route from those classes but was excited enough that there was apparently one. So I went to my bugler friends and asked, pleaded and begged them to include me. They said the group was full but they could consider squeezing me in!
They first gave me an informal audition. I couldn't play the bugle to save my life. I tried with the fullest blast of air that could've blown away a little fluff of cotton and some dust off the table. But the bugle just gasped and whimpered even as my face and ears went red from the effort. My judges grinned and chuckled but I pleaded yet again and they relented.
I stood before the band master. Unfortunately he had a throat condition that wouldn't let him speak. He hissed, rasped and gesticulated something which could only be translated by the oldest and long serving members of the band.
He apparently asked me if I really meant to join and if I would be able to play the bugle. It didn't even occur to me if a basic level of competence or talent in music was required to enroll for this much coveted part.
I was mentally forming a statement of work of how playing the bugle was a life long dream and how much I wanted to be a part of...of..... I began to stammer an answer but he quickly hissed and gestured something to my friend and dismissed us.
'You're in!' my friend gushed. 'But be warned...', he continued sinisterly ..'he can call anybody's bluff!'. I wondered how that was possible in a group of buglers unless he singled me out. Then I'd be a sitting duck. I decided to maintain a delicate balance between looking too relaxed and going red in the face and ears.
The next day at assembly, the class teacher was puzzled not to find me in the class line. A few of my classmates gawked, seeing me with the bugle on stage. A couple of them had already called my bluff and gave me thin smiles.
Post the anthem, I scurried away with the band to celebrate my unsolicited freedom from the first period. Bugle practice!
I harrumphed, hooted and blew my lungs out into the bugle. It made arbitrary sounds. The band master watched me intently. He slowly walked in my direction and towered over me. 'Play', he hissed.
With a squeaky mental prayer, I tried again hoping for a miracle. The bugle merely burped. I blinked rapidly as my throat went dry.
My friend quickly covered up for me, 'Maybe there's something wrong with this. Try the other one...', he handed me his bugle. Oh yes, the accomplished players were allowed to mark and keep their bugles. They shined them every now and then with immense pride.
I wasn't very successful with the other bugle either. 'One last chance tomorrow...', the band master waved a finger and walked away.
Skipping the first period didn't seem like much fun, especially with the threat of the band master dangling over me.
I don't remember if I quit the next day or a couple of days later but that ended my brief tryst with music. I have since made one or two meek attempts at the flute, harmonica and the keyboard with disastrous results!
For now, am just content tapping on the steering and humming along with the radio when I drive....!
Cannot recollect if it had a name or it was just called school band. I wanted to be a part of my friends from class who played the bugle! This was the most popular instrument on the band or at least the one most auditioned for.
There was an underlying reason why some students had signed up for the band.
Memory doesn't serve me well but I think it was the following:
The band played for the morning assembly and then regrouped for practice immediately as well as during PT sessions.
This gave a legitimate chance for the boys to skip the boring first period - which was probably Kannada or Hindi (any subject for that matter would warrant a bunk!) and also avoid the seemingly torrid PT classes held under strict vigil of the PT masters.
I was not even sure I was looking for an escape route from those classes but was excited enough that there was apparently one. So I went to my bugler friends and asked, pleaded and begged them to include me. They said the group was full but they could consider squeezing me in!
They first gave me an informal audition. I couldn't play the bugle to save my life. I tried with the fullest blast of air that could've blown away a little fluff of cotton and some dust off the table. But the bugle just gasped and whimpered even as my face and ears went red from the effort. My judges grinned and chuckled but I pleaded yet again and they relented.
I stood before the band master. Unfortunately he had a throat condition that wouldn't let him speak. He hissed, rasped and gesticulated something which could only be translated by the oldest and long serving members of the band.
He apparently asked me if I really meant to join and if I would be able to play the bugle. It didn't even occur to me if a basic level of competence or talent in music was required to enroll for this much coveted part.
I was mentally forming a statement of work of how playing the bugle was a life long dream and how much I wanted to be a part of...of..... I began to stammer an answer but he quickly hissed and gestured something to my friend and dismissed us.
'You're in!' my friend gushed. 'But be warned...', he continued sinisterly ..'he can call anybody's bluff!'. I wondered how that was possible in a group of buglers unless he singled me out. Then I'd be a sitting duck. I decided to maintain a delicate balance between looking too relaxed and going red in the face and ears.
The next day at assembly, the class teacher was puzzled not to find me in the class line. A few of my classmates gawked, seeing me with the bugle on stage. A couple of them had already called my bluff and gave me thin smiles.
Post the anthem, I scurried away with the band to celebrate my unsolicited freedom from the first period. Bugle practice!
I harrumphed, hooted and blew my lungs out into the bugle. It made arbitrary sounds. The band master watched me intently. He slowly walked in my direction and towered over me. 'Play', he hissed.
With a squeaky mental prayer, I tried again hoping for a miracle. The bugle merely burped. I blinked rapidly as my throat went dry.
My friend quickly covered up for me, 'Maybe there's something wrong with this. Try the other one...', he handed me his bugle. Oh yes, the accomplished players were allowed to mark and keep their bugles. They shined them every now and then with immense pride.
I wasn't very successful with the other bugle either. 'One last chance tomorrow...', the band master waved a finger and walked away.
Skipping the first period didn't seem like much fun, especially with the threat of the band master dangling over me.
I don't remember if I quit the next day or a couple of days later but that ended my brief tryst with music. I have since made one or two meek attempts at the flute, harmonica and the keyboard with disastrous results!
For now, am just content tapping on the steering and humming along with the radio when I drive....!
