Frightened by a Sonata

 

I first met Reva Chakraborty back when I was in the ninth standard. I met her in my English tuitions, which we had twice – Monday and Thursday – in the week. Since then, our friendship had been growing over the year. She was a shy girl, who barely spoke with no one. Academically she was fantastic (always the first or the second), and she also played the piano – which was recognized by me as the best instrument ever to have been created. After all, it gave us legends like Beethoven and Franz Liszt!

It was just the day before the ninth standard ended. I was seated in the second bench – she, just on the left side. There were only five of us who had come at that hour. The class would start at 7.30 in the evening, but as the early bird I was, I used to come half an hour early, i.e. at seven o’clock. She usually came late – like ten minutes before the class – so I didn’t get to talk with her so much. So, taking it as my luck, I started the conversation based on my favourite thing – music.

Halfway through the conversation, I asked her:

‘Is there any piece which has frightened you till date?’

She thought about it for some time, then replied:

‘You mean, by the technicality and the virtuosity…’

‘No. Not that part. The answer for that is simple: Liszt, Paganini, blah blah…’

‘Oh. Well, I had such an experience back when I was in the seventh standard.’

‘Oh really? You – you were scared by a piece?’

‘Yes, and it was so damn terrifying, it still gives me the creeps!’

I checked the time. It was 7.07 p.m. – 23 minutes were still left, and a very few people had entered.

‘Well, go on. I’m all ears.’ I replied.

She took a deep breath, and then began:

‘You see, I started learning the piano back when I was in my seventh standard. I always had a knack for music, and so it was I who developed an interest for learning an instrument. The man who taught me was extremely good. As a result, I became so good that at the beginning of my eighth standard, he started giving me lessons – no, not the normal theory or practice lessons, but lessons on how it feels to be like there, on the stage, performing in front of the audience…’

‘…oh yes, I also have lessons like this. Nothing special, duh.’

She casted a stern look at me.

‘I mean, for first-timers – yeah, it’s kinda tough.’

She gave off a grunt, and continued:

‘It was May. The summer holidays had just begun. It was a Wednesday - I remember -  as I cycled my way to the pianist’s house. Unlike others, the man was – you know – quite ‘well’. Though he used to receive like only three performances per year, he had a good income.

Wednesdays were those days where he gave me those lessons on ‘the feeling on-stage’. Having seated myself, he said, ‘So, Reva, today I’m going to play what it seems to be the fifth piece. It’s not so well-known, you might have never heard of it, but you should be prepared for everything, so…’

‘What is it?’ I asked. Sir had an interest for such obscure pieces. I knew it from day 1.

‘It’s a piano sonata, composed by the Russian composer, Alexander Scriabin. It is the sixth one.’

‘So? Um, it’s just a sonata…’

‘Well you see, this sonata is rumored to have some supernatural elements attached to it. According to him, this sonata is cursed.’

‘Sir, this is a joke, right?’

Shaking his head, he replied, ‘You see, I also used to be into the belief that this was some sort of hoax – maybe the composer himself was unable to play it (it was too hard even for the composer himself to play!) but then, I was wrong, for I had played it out once, and what I saw, spooked me…but soft! I seem to have spilled out the fun. So, I’m now going to play it, and you are the silent audience. But I must warn you though, some things might happen while I play the sonata. Don’t freak out, for they will only be imaginary stuff. So, do you get it?’

I didn’t know what to say. Was Sir playing a joke with me, so as to give the definition of a scherzo, which I so confidently gave the wrong answer the previous day? Anyway, I gave my approval.

‘Ok then. You sit over there. Just let me warm up a bit.’

I went over to the sofa, and sat down. Sir went over to the piano, and started playing scales – the conventional pianist warm-up. Then, a few moments later, he gave me a thumbs up.

‘Now try to understand my location. I was seated at the back of the room, and Sir was seated midway between the sofa and the now darkening bedroom. It will be important later.’

‘Ok.’ I replied. ‘Then?’

‘I responded back (Yes Sir!) and sat back, with the thought of getting a light lesson taught to me when you don’t study music theory for two weeks! But I was so – oh, so horribly wrong, Mridul!’

‘You mean, it happened?’

‘She nodded, and then continued:

‘At first, everything seemed to be fine – Sir playing the dark and melodramatic chords of the piece, me listening to it like a patient cat, when I noticed something weird.

There was someone staring at me from the dark bedroom! It had two red-hot fiery eyes, and slowly began to emerge from the room.

I didn’t know what to say. I was so stunned by it, when I noticed another thing – the lights were dimming out all of a sudden, and those which hung from the ceiling seemed to oscillate with a faster velocity all of a sudden. Then, I heard laughter – oh, so mischievous, so evil that laughter was! It echoed all across the room. To my now-increasing horror, I saw the figure – by now I am sure that it was a demon – coming out towards the dimmed surrounding. But Sir continued to play, as if nothing was happening! The piece began to now gain a darker character, and I saw another strange sight.

Small, red-coloured things had suddenly entered the area, and were dancing about like madmen do after spending long hours at a pub. The things had little horns over their heads, and their eyes seemed to be made out of hot, burning coals! They were dancing, shrieking, and madly laughing about. Suddenly, a strong wind began to blow over there. Pictures toppled off the walls, so did the books from the shelves. The whole place seemed to be jerking violently!

I couldn’t take it anymore. I stood up from the sofa, and tried to run. But hardly had I taken four steps, when suddenly I tripped, and hit my head hard on one of the pictures knocked off on the ground. I felt my surroundings fading away…the laughter growing louder…and then I saw…I saw…

The figure had issued out a knife, and it stabbed the knife right into Sir’s back!

Then, I don’t know what happened…’

***

A few moments of silence prevailed. It was 7.30, but luckily for us, the teacher had an uninvited relative coming in. So, an additional ten minutes were given to us. Also, surprisingly, there were still some boys and girls left to come. So, I asked: ‘What happened then?’

‘When I woke up, I saw myself seated on the sofa, and there stood Sir, packing up a Savlon and bandages in his first-aid box. He looked mildly put out.

My hand reached for the forehead. Yes, I had cut myself over there when I had hit my with the hard picture-frame.

‘Um, Sir - ?’

‘Oh! I’m so sorry, dear. I didn’t realize that it would be something like this. They have gone too far this time. Never did I ever… by the way, are you alright?’

‘Yes Sir. I’m fine. So that means – that means…’

Sir gave out a sigh, and smiling, said, ‘Yes, the myth is actually true. Maybe that’s why…’

Maybe that was the reason why Scriabin didn’t play this hell of a sonata in front of everyone, for he feared that it would summon unearthly forces, I thought to myself as I cycled back to my house later in the night. Sir had dismissed me early that day, considering my condition after this bizarre experience. But the night’s surprises were far from over…

As I was parking my cycle, I suddenly saw something weird from the darkness of the garage.

Two eyes had suddenly popped out of nowhere, and were staring right at me from there!

I just stood there, frozen, when suddenly I heard it say:

‘Good Night. Hope you enjoyed! Ha ha ha !!...’

I gave out a shriek and ran upstairs…

***

‘So that was it, you see. The only piece which had terrified me the most. I wasn't able yo sleepthat night. Nearly scared out of my wits! What do you think?’

I just sat over there, looking towards her, mesmerized and lost in thought. Was it truly a joke, a whole story made up by her, or did it really occur? Did Scriabin really write such a sonata?

After hearing it a couple of times, I still don’t know…

Perhaps...yes?

***

M.Macabre

22.10.2020

Dedicated to: Franz Liszt (Happy Birthday!), R.Escreva (upon whom the character of Reva is largely based)