Story Asia

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In Goa, there was a man whose occupation was to make pianos. He was a hardworking man and every day, he was doing something or rather with a piano. He either assembled them, tuned them or polished the wood. Without a doubt, all day long, various sounds could be heard coming from his shop.

Each day, a priest from the nearby church walked past this piano maker's shop. He was accustomed to listening to the sounds coming from the shop and indeed, he listened to them with much interest and often pondered on their meaning.

One day, after many months of walking past the piano maker's shop, the priest decided to pay the piano maker a visit.

"Both of us," the priest said, "are interested in creating music."

"I make my living by producing pianos," said the piano maker, "but I have no clue what your interest is."

"In very simple terms, what you do is this: you arrange material objects so that they give forth music," explained the priest, "whereas I, I try to tune human beings to do the same. In certain ways, I must admit, you are more successful than I am, because human beings are not as predictable as strings and sounding boards."

"That's not entirely true," the piano maker retorted. "You see, the strings of a piano are very sensitive," the piano maker ventured. "The pitch they produce changes with the weather. So, the sounds that a piano gives are not as predictable as you think they are."

The priest was not convinced. He said, "A delicate thought can affect the pulse beat of a human being," countered the priest.

"I agree. But, you see, a piano requires a performer and a composition. What does a human being require? I don't think he needs a performer or even a composition."

The priest though about this comment for some time. Then, he said, "Perhaps, there is some truth in what you say. Maybe the human being does not need a performer or even a composition in an obvious way," said the priest, "but, here is an analogy for you. The bodily mechanism is touched by the soul in accordance with a greater composition than any pianist has ever played."

"Not everyone knows how to play the piano, you know," observed the piano maker. "The instrument may be marvelous, but that does not mean a thing to a person not trained to play the piano."

"You're right," responded the priest. "Likewise, some people never learn to play their own bodily mechanisms well; others know how to play, yes, but the strings are not in tune. They're entire lives are 'out of tune' so to speak. And some can't even find the appropriate songs to play."

The piano maker looked confused at this point in time.

In a few moments, with a shake of his head, he said, "These speculations are too complicated for me. I just want to sell pianos to make a living,"

"Ah-ha!" said the priest. "Therein lies the difference between you and me. You are interested in the profit, and I am interested in the song. Musical notes are certainly different from bank notes. You are concerned that people should buy, while I am interesting the universal rhythms that keep Earth dancing in space as it goes round the sun and proclaims the glory of God."  

And with that, the priest walked away from the piano maker's shop leaving the somewhat bewildered piano maker to contemplate the priest's words.