The Violin

There's something about working hard to make a living that really excites me. Some people have their life cut out for them. They get everything on a silver platter, only having to take the effort to enjoy it. Some have to struggle on a daily basis to make ends meet. I have a lot of respect for those who struggle, work hard and come up in life. They might even have to do work that is beneath their dignity and education just to make a living. I recently came across one such example which touched my heart.

It was a peaceful evening in Christchurch, New Zealand. There was a slight chill in the air, and I was returning to my hotel with my parents after a fun-filled day of sightseeing. Happy thoughts filled my mind as I ambled lazily along the pavement, longing for my comfortable hotel bed. The streets were nearly empty as storekeepers wound down for the day. The sheer sense of calm was addictive.

I heard the soft sounds of a violin playing in the distance. It felt like the sounds were playing in my head, and I smiled to myself, thinking that the evening could not get any more perfect. As I walked on, the sounds became louder until I saw a sight that stabbed me like a knife through my heart. Sheltered between two pillars of a downtown skyscraper stood a young girl playing a beautiful violin. She must not have been older than fourteen. She looked beautiful in a black velvet coat with a white shirt and black trousers, her tiny feet dressed in cute black and white shoes with little bows on them. Her clothes were fit for a performance at a prestigious venue. At her feet lay an open violin case, with loose change and small bills scattered about inside.

Every now and then, a stranger would slow down to throw a coin or two into the case. She would give a faint smile to acknowledge the benevolent soul, and continue playing. All the while, she looked straight ahead, her eyes glistening with a steely resolve. I could tell she was not entirely comfortable with having to play on a pavement for money, but was doing it with sheer grit and willpower to help her family earn some extra money and make ends meet. She would swallow hard every now and then. It almost seemed like she was swallowing her pride.

There is no doubt in my mind that she was great at the violin. What should have been a teenage hobby had turned into a difficult lesson in life. It pained my heart that a genuine talent had been reduced to mildly interesting entertainment for passerby. Where I come from, it is not unusual to see people begging for money with pity as their weapon. But this, this was just painful. An innocent girl , and a talented one at that, should never ever have to face the indignity of having to use her wonderful talent to earn small change.

I looked away and continued walking, brutally reminded of how lucky I am.