The Melodious Beginning of A Clarinetist

            Playing a musical instrument in an orchestra has been my wildest dream ever. The striking view of musicians producing distinct sounds in unison with their thoroughly polished instruments and playing them harmoniously keeps on being embedded in my mind. Enjoying the euphonious hum of the magnificent tubas and the soaring happiness expressed fluidly by the violinist, I was somehow ironically haunted by a pessimistic thought; I will never achieve this seemingly impossible fantasy. It is a lavish interest that a man like me can never indulge in. However, entering Sekolah Menengah Sains Kuching changed everything, and it all began with an audition.

 

            Back in the innocent years of primary school, the only musical instrument that I had ever mastered was none other than the simplistic recorder. Even though it was extremely easy to master, none of my fellow classmates could perform better than I did. My pulsating eagerness towards music was so profound that in one month, I had finished playing all music pieces in the music textbook, which were supposed to be used in our curriculum for the whole year. Noticing my wild interest in music, Miss Cecelia, who happened to be my beloved musical tutor, arranged some performances during school assemblies for me to display my hidden talent in front of my friends and teachers. Still, as sceptical as it may seem, I was very well aware that my dream, a dream to be in a pool of professional musicians performing the majestic musical pieces on the stage, showered by perpetual stream of spotlights, was just a mere imagination of a naive child.

 

            Commencing my secondary school life in Sekolah Menengah Sains Kuching was the end of my false perception of my own dream. Normally, a student whose life is fortunately fated to study in a fully residential school would worry about how to adapt in a foreign environment without their parents. However, it was not an issue for me. I was nurtured by my parents well that I could be independent in most cases, which gave me a slight advantage to living alone. Since music was my passion, I looked for any organizations or clubs that could further develop my musical ability to a higher notch.

 

            As always, I was lucky.

 

            During the orientation week, I was told by my seniors that this school had an established orchestra, and currently it needed more people since there were a lot of vacancies that the juniors could fill in. They mentioned some musical technical terms that I was not familiar with, but that did not stop me from being hyped up to participate; in fact, I was really excited about joining the orchestra. This could be the one and only shot in my life to becoming a professional musician. Without having any second thought, enthusiasm escalating in my mind, I immediately enrolled myself on an audition – an audition that I never thought could change me into a completely different person.

 

***

It was the most anticipated day in my life – the audition day. My palms were drenched in sweat as if they were papers soaked in a pail of water and my heart was beating so fast that I swore my chest would have exploded into pieces. Making a beeline for the audition even elevated my superfluous nervousness, as there was a big crowd coming to grab the limited posts in the orchestra. When the judges called upon my name, I could feel that my brain actually stopped functioning. This biologically normal response came at a very wrong time and it would certainly affect my audition. Noticing how grim the situation could end up, I took a moment to regain my composure and slouched my way into the tuning room.

 

            The room could not be more intimidating. It was dark and dusty. The poorly lit space was intentionally set up in that way, or so I thought, because what I saw that occupied the middle part of the room literally blinded my eyes. At the center were nicely arranged musical instruments, glowing brightly and marvelous, most of which I had never seen before. Some were very large, while some were just a size of a water bottle. I had butterflies in my stomach, since I had not had even the slightest idea of which instrument I was going to use for the audition.

 

            Then, one of the judges motioned at me to pick one of the instruments.

 

            I must make the butterflies in my stomach fly in formation, I said to myself. Staring blankly at the judges, I picked one long wooden instrument in black, shined dazzlingly by the gleaming keypads. Without any knowledge about what it was, and without even knowing how to play it, as if by instinct, I carefully placed the mouthpiece on my lips, drew a deep breath, and blew it.

 

            All I heard was just an irritating squeak. Very annoying, indeed.

 

            Stuttered by the unexpected outcome, I tried blowing the recorder-like object again. What I hoped was a dulcet tone; instead, I was befuddled by the same shrill sound, breaking the eerie silence that blanketed the room. My effort was to no avail. Frustrated as I could be, I was as confused as I had been when I started the audition, leaving me with thousands of questions that led me to more questions – why was the weird-looking instrument so difficult to play? Was this the end of my being in the orchestra?

 

            With the deepest disappointment ingrained in my heart, as if I had known that I could not make it into the ensemble, I reluctantly looked up to the judges with the hopelessness mask on my face. At that very moment, I thought that I would be rejected, as what the contestants in American Idol have always experienced, thanks to Simon Cowell. But as I continued staring at the judges, I realized that their countenances were telling another side of the story.

 

            “That...was amazing! Never have I seen any first-timers in my life that could produce even a squeak with the clarinet in their first attempts. It took me more than a week to do that, and even worse, I had blisters, mind you. I would definitely say yes to this guy,” said the woman seated in the middle whose smile was so vibrant, a dose of euphoria apparent in her voice.

 

            They were not Simon Cowells after all.

 

            From that moment, then I learned that the instrument I was holding was called a clarinet. Holding it with a firm resolve, I could sense an influx of contentment flowing into it, absorbing my energy as if it was alive and smiling at me. I smiled back, marking the new beginning of a friendship I have made with the splendid musical instrument. My dream had finally come true.

 

            I have always been lucky in most things I did so far, yet this event stood out to be the most significant, for I realized that to achieve our dreams does not only require strings of luck, but also determination, perseverance, and confidence. Being fortunate may be good at times, but having a strong resolve and believing in ourselves define the clear difference between fantasy and reality. 

*****

I stumbled upon this essay of mine when I was doing disc cleanup, and I thought of immortalizing it here. Who knows, my laptop would crash, and all would be gone. Ooo, that's pretty scary. :P