I got a keyboard when I was five. My sister, Meera, had started taking piano lessons and, being the younger sister I was, I had to do everything she did. But instead of paying a teacher for lessons for me as well, my parents commissioned my sister to pass on her knowledge. 

The keyboard was one of the cheaper ones, plastic keys with a stand. My sister played on the actual piano, but my fingers were too small and weak to press down on the heavy keys. I don’t remember how I felt in those initial days playing. I don’t remember if I liked it, I don’t know if I found it hard. I’m sure I took great pleasure in sharing something with my sister. 

At some point, the keyboard broke. It was fixable, but it would take a bit. So I temporarily transitioned to using the piano.

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I have included the piece that inspired this piece of writing. I am playing it on the piano, so naturally, it is far from perfect. However, it is my interpretation of the piece and its ideas. Sorry for any background noise; it was played at a public recital. I hope you enjoy Autumn Leaves: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j2XM2s288Jc

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I hit three octaves of E. Carefully, with accent. F sharp. G. Then the notes ripple; four beats pass, and then the notes start to kick in and they get faster; there’s more of them and I’m going…going, until I hold. And then it’s for real, and I’m lost in the music. The piano plinks, the notes connect, the world holds still. I hold my breath.

The notes slur in long phrases, each note carefully picked to emulate the falling Autumn Leaves, each dynamic carefully chosen to convey the scene, each accent strategically placed. It doesn’t sound like notes, or piano keys, or phrases. It sounds like music.

I get lost every time I play the piano. It takes me out of this imperfect world and into one where everything is perfect for five minutes. It reminds me that the ultimate goal of working hard is success. It calms me down when I’m upset, when I’m tired, when I’m stressed. It lets me be proud of something.

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