My Music Partner

By Gomathi Sridevi Radhakrishnan

(A person using his hand to play the notes on the keyboard)

"Where did I keep it?"

I mumbled to myself, as I rummaged through the shelves in my room. I was searching for the keyboard I'd received as a birthday gift a few months ago.

"Mom, have you seen my keyboard?" I called out, climbing down from the chair I'd been using to reach the higher shelves.

The bedroom door swung open, revealing my mother with her hands on her hips, giving me a stern look.

I gulped.

"Then what's this?" she asked, pointing to an object and staring me down.

I sighed, already regretting asking for her help.

"Mom, that's my computer keyboard. I'm looking for the musical instrument Sam gave me for my birthday."

Her expression softened, and she let out a sheepish laugh.

"Oh, that's called a keyboard too? I thought it was a piano."

Rubbing my temples to ward off an impending headache, I mentally kicked myself for involving her.

"I think I left it on the kitchen shelf," she mused. "Check there."

I hurried to the kitchen, chair in tow, and resumed my search.

"Ah, there it is!" I exclaimed, spotting the instrument. I dusted off the cover and climbed down.

"Oh, you found it. Do you need that cover?" Mom asked.

Confused, I furrowed my brows.

"Why do you ask?"

"Do I have to give a reason?" she retorted.

Moms and their craze for plastic covers.

Rolling my eyes at the silly exchange, I took out the keyboard and handed her the cover. She snatched it and left the room.

"What just happened?" I muttered, shaking my head to clear my thoughts. I moved to my bed, plugged in the keyboard, and set it on my pillow.

As I examined the instrument, I realized how little I knew.

"Do they call these chords or keys?" I wondered aloud.

Grabbing my phone, I searched for "keyboard learning for beginners" and was met with a flood of video results.

Just as I was about to click on the first video, my phone rang. It was Kristy, my next-door neighbor and best friend.

"Hey, Kristy," I answered.

"Dude, what's up?" she chirped.

"You're the one who called me, buddy," I laughed.

We chatted about her day, commiserating over the challenges of being stuck at home. Then, an idea struck me.

"Hey, want to hear something?" I asked mischievously.

"Sure, what is it?"

"Just listen carefully," I said, turning on the keyboard. I took a deep breath, placed my fingers on the keys, and began to play... if you could call it that. After a few minutes of random key-pressing, I stopped for her reaction.

"So?" I prompted.

Kristy burst into laughter.

"Wow, that was the most unpleasant sound I've ever heard!" Her contagious laughter set me off too. Between giggles, I managed to say, "Shut up!"

After we calmed down, Kristy suggested teasingly,

"Why don't you go to the balcony and play for the whole street? They could have some fun too, and you might even earn some money!"

"Go to hell," I retorted good-naturedly, ending the call.

Determined to improve, I plugged my earphones and dove into tutorial videos, learning about major chords and basic notes. Time flew by until I heard my mother calling from outside my door. I opened it to find her holding two cups of tea.

"How's my musician doing?" she asked with a smile. When she didn't get a reply, she asked again.

"I didn't hear any sound of you playing this anymore." I shook my head and sighed heavily. I have been trying to learn this thing for hours, but still, I was getting confused with simple ABCDEFG chords. 

"I think it's not my cup of tea." I shook my head and sipped the drink.

"Of course it is not."

I looked at her in disbelief.

Shouldn't all mothers support their children when they feel down?

"That was my cup of tea. The one on the table is your tea. Now give me my cup." She reached her hands before me while giving her puppy eyes. I chuckled at her reply.

She knows how to lift my mood. I nodded and grabbed my cup from the table. We sat on my bed, sipping tea in comfortable silence. Then she said,

"Now show me what you've learned." She folded her legs and waited expectantly.

"Are you serious?" I asked, surprised.

"Why not? Maybe you can teach me something too," she replied, playfully tapping out a few discordant notes.

As we laughed at the funny sounds, I began to explain.

"Mom, that's not quite how you play. See these black and white keys?"

"Yeah, they look like chessboard pieces," she observed.

I nodded, chuckling.

"Yes, but they have names, like chess pieces. Instead of pawns and kings, we use A, B, C, D, E, F, and G."

Her eyes sparkled with interest as I spoke, and I felt a warmth spreading through me, happy to have such an attentive listener.

I shared everything I'd learned from the videos, and together we started to learn "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star."

As I watched my mother gleefully playing the song – albeit with many mistakes – I realized that this quarantine might not be so bad after all.

I was learning something new and teaching someone who had spent most of her life in the kitchen, taking care of me.

I smiled, my heart full. Beyond just learning an instrument, I was grateful for this precious time spent with my mother, creating a beautiful memory that would last far longer than any melody.