“Walk?” one asks, and the other two immediately rise. Leaving their marked territory in the corner of the class, they take a look at the timetable. And before anybody fully understands exactly what is happening, SAM is out for a midday stroll around school. Just one fleeting glance inside the classes they pass by tells them that there is no replacement for them once they pass out of school next year.
They stumble down to the basement, laughing like a bunch of drunkards, and set their first target as the library. Ah, the library. A room filled with books (objects that two out of the Trio didn’t seem to have any relation with).
“Ma’am, can I borrow a book?” one of them asks as the other two wonder whether he even knows how to read.
“You wouldn’t by any chance have the Indian Constitution here would you?” another asks politely, with an innocent expression masking his inner mischievous self, as curbed laughter in the form of shameless sniggers comes from the remaining two.
The librarian glares at them threateningly as she musters all the strength that she has, to control her hands from strangling the Trio. And as expected (and as desired too), they get kicked out of the library ruthlessly. They roam around hopelessly bored when suddenly something catches their attention. An empty room. The music room. Setting their eyes determinedly on their destination, they take a short leisurely walk till there.
“Just the thing for lazy people like me, the keyboard. It does all the work itself, all I have to do is press a few buttons here and there” one says as she takes her place behind the instrument.
“What an instrument it is, the Harmonium. Alive with music rooted deep in its soul; it needs oxygen to function just like all living beings” he says, as he settles himself contentedly on the mattress.
“A wonderful instrument, the Guitar. Six strings and more than a million different tunes to produce from them. Place one hand for support on its slender neck, and use the other to strike or even beat the strings as per your whims. Why use two hands when you can make music using only one?” the other says, seating himself on a chair in the corner.
Vocalists by birth and each one a maestro in their own instrument, they begin with their music. Not a trace of harmony, no sense of tune and absolutely no presence of coordination, their music or rather cacophony resounds in the empty basement. And then all of a sudden, someone emerges from the shadows. The music teacher.
“Play something for me. Let me see how much you know” he says, stepping into the music room.
“We would love to sir, but with all due respect, we don’t want you to feel intimidated by our natural talent in music, so I think we’ll just leave” one says, as SAM steps out in glory and returns to class by taking the longest route possible.