The Flutist

Busy hour of the day as people rush back to their homes, rush back to embrace their loved ones. I am one of them. The bus makes a brief halt and we alight; so far the day has not been an ally. The day has sucked every bit of me, every bit of enthusiasm.

The subway is filled with people but there is something unusual today, amidst the cacophony I can hear a sort of symphony. I hear a tune, a familiar one, it touches my heart in an instant.
He sits there, the flutist, and plays with much ease; effortlessly is the word. He didn’t seem to care if we are listening or if some of us stand there with our mouths wide open; he didn’t seem to care about the money in his bowl. What he cares about is the music that flows ceaselessly and fills our hearts.

Photographs: Tarun Mazumdar


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