My favourite days are the rainy ones. Although heavy showers stall most outdoor endeavours, dancing never gets a break. Rehearsals endure and Amma insists on live music for inspiration. Through the tall glass windows of our studio, nature watches our performance as we accompany Assad’s flute with steps and stunts.
Assad picked up a flute around the same time I chanced upon dance. We’ve composed mock ballets in the woods – up on trees, by the bay, in natural clearings. Our own versions of tune and beat; melody and rhythm. He’d play, I’d practice and voila! We had a recital on call!
After one such caper on a typically sultry day, sucking our coconuts dry, Assad said to me, “If what goes in through your ears, doesn’t go straight to your heart, it’s not art.”
Often, we’re ‘blown away’ by what holes and emptiness can send forth. And Assad becomes a better wizard every day. Every melody more magical than the previous one.
“I want to have the power to make people smile, to bring them to all types of tears, carry them back in time and inspire them to dance in the moment. I want to be able to take your minds off everything else and refresh your souls in that very moment!”, Assad presses.
Right now, every breath he takes transforms into music. He practices, not until he gets it right, but until he can’t possibly get it wrong.
And I suppose that’s every maestro’s story.