A Symphony of Decisions.

(Scene 1 — Close up shot of the stairs, a women in high heels zooms past me)

“F sharp” I grinned to myself as I approached the door. Something I once flaunted as a badge of honor had now turned into a performance for an audience of 1.

The scanner beeped again as my ID card failed to go through for the 5th time that week. I shoot a look at the receptionist to bail me out of this situation. For the 5th time that week.

She unwillingly gets up and murmurs something under her breath which sounded a lot like she wasn’t getting paid enough to do this

I debate whether to tell her that this beep is the is the beginning of my favorite Jesse McCartney single. (Song name: Leavin’, if you are curious). I decide against it.

Scene 2 —Top angle shot of an office setting with around 60 employees, all dressed in different shades of blue. An iconic blues’ track playing in the background.

Cut to — Page 2 of the ‘Constitution of Corporates’ which under Section 1.2 Frequency of Blue Attire states “Each employee shall wear attire primarily featuring the color blue for a minimum of two (2) days per workweek”

(Transition back to the present as the song fades out)

I make my way in , only to notice that two of my colleagues, Kashish and Mohsin have already taken their place on either side of my desk. We always leave one desk empty between the three of us. They say it’s because I take up too much space, but I like to believe it’s because half notes are never easy on the ear.

Imagine the entire desk row is giant piano and Kashish is sitting on the C note while Mohsin on the G. I aimlessly make my way exactly between them to complete the chord. Slightly annoyed that the place on Mohsin’s one o’clock (B flat) was occupied and I missed an opportunity to harmonize, I manage to settle down and whip out my laptop.

(As I start typing the password, scene transitions to 22 year old me playing Mozart)

“Joshua You’re nuts, you can’t just leave behind everything and go off and work a desk job” my brother bellows from behind me.

“Watch me”. I turn sideways and smirk still not looking up to face him

Visibly frustrated now, he’s almost shaking as he remarks “ You know you are gifted. You were goddamn 5 when you composed your first song on that shitty Casio. People like you don’t belong in offices”

“So now you’re gonna tell me where I belong?” I shot back

“For God’s sake, don’t do this to yourself, you’re wasting your talent.”

The grin is washed off my face as I ask him — “Who said my talent is a resource that needs to be extinguished? Plus I don’t believe there is anything called ‘talent’. There is just instinct and how you choose to use that instinct and I have made my choice”.

He stormed out of the room cursing me under his breath. I still don’t stop playing.

It was appalling to me how people felt a sense of ownership over my so called ‘talent’. Like I owed them something? Like me pursuing music would somehow magically make their misery drown. Maybe it will. But isn’t selfish of them to expect that?

Scene 4 -The clock tells us that it’s 4pm. The camera is framed to show a my hunched back working away on an excel sheet.

Suddenly I swing my chair back and turn to look directly into the camera, as I detangle the wires of my earphones.

“That’s it, there’s nothing more to this story. I work in sales now”

I slowly plug them in and the music get louder as the camera pans out of the window.