Giving up the art
Author: Ella

Chapter 5
Arithmatic

i felt i had much to do. so much to complete within a specific time frame. i loathed the inflexibility. staring at the pile of books stacked on my wooden table, i heaved a sigh. waiting for just one more moment to let time pass, and the work be gone. but the work had to be done somehow. it was not much. just a few pages of that thick math textbook. and then a little quiz about it, but i hated the quizes. they stirred up in me a fear that would not seize even when the quiz was completed. the mistakes i made in the quiz would cost me dearly for all the hard work i have put in to achieve perfection. but then i realised, no human could ever achieve perfection. math was never perfect as i made it out to be, it was just accurate.

after that day when i first met her in person, cyrilla spend more time with me. we met again outside the house. this time she was seated in a comfortable position. her legs were folded and she was dressed casually. but she was not carrying her violin with her. it made me feel rather uncomfortable. it was as if something was missing. the picture was not complete, cyrilla and the violin always went together.

my curiosity creeped it's way out and i asked her why she did something she never loved.
"my parent's made me do it," was her casual reply. i have heard it many times before. all the friends i had in school, they would give me the same reply as well. sometimes i wondered why no one ever did anything of their own accord.

"my father and mother love the violin. they wanted to learn it when they were my age, but they didn't get the chance," she told me sighingly.

i immediately understood. they had forced their passion on her. since they could not do it, why not let their daughter do it for them.

"it makes them happy," she grinned a little. "if it does i will do it. someday they dream i'd become a  professional violinist and center my whole life around it. they spent time and effort on me. sometimes i'm afraid i would disappoint them."

"why do you still do it, then? i'm sure you have told them. why do something you see no future in?" i asked her. but i knew the answer. which child would not wish to please his parents. i always thought i was a free child. my parents never forced me to do anything. they did not push their likes on me. yet, somehow i felt the same way now. i just never came to realise that maybe my parents did give me something they were good at. i used to look at the math textbook sitting on the table with a grimace and yet it had such attraction for me. i hated practising, but my hands would gravitate towards the jotter book and my mind would just be forced to unravel the numbers. and each time i unravelled a difficult question, my heart would be filled with great joy and satisfaction. did i really love math? my friend had posed me this question once and it truly made me think. why did i put in so much effort into something i dread. and i saw it in my mind.

i saw myself sitting at the wooden table with a calculator in my hand. each afternoon i heard the heavenly songs of the violin, i had been doing math. as much as cyrilla practised her violin with such consistency and discipline, and now i realised, that each afternoon i heard the high sounding notes of the violin, i had penned down a few more numbers and unravelled a few more sums. i finally understood what cyrilla felt. her parents loved the violin, my parents placed utmost importance on maths. while i envied the beautiful world of music cyrilla had, i had not learnt to appreciate the numbers that i had seen every afternoon.

 

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