With seemingly boundless determination—granted by the Hindu god of divine love—Sean set out to save his partnership. On his way to work, he began making a mental checklist of all the romantic, passionate gestures he could show Xavier. Then he scratched that list for a more realistic approach of queries. How do I convince Xavier to get help for his depression? How will I get him to reengage with me? What can I do to support him during what must be such a hard time in his, well, our, life?
Shortly after arriving at his desk in the bullpen-style layout of Muzzik, Sean’s boss called him for a consult. “Today,” she explained, “you’ll be on a beta project. We’re calling it Muzzikick. We’re finding those rare, hidden gems the public doesn’t know about yet.”
“Who will I be teamed with,” Sean inquired, since all projects at his workplace were group based.
“That’s what makes this beta project so exciting. Instead of teaming with Muzzik colleagues, you’ll be with one of the potentials.”
“Potentials,” Sean asked quizzically.
“Yes, he has the potential to break into the music scene in a big, big way. We’ve found him, and we want you to evaluate whether he’s one of the gems we should promote.”
Sean wasn’t sure he was the right person for this gig, but, hey, it would be a change of pace from appeasing customers’ numerous complaints by tweaking algorithms. He readied himself by grabbing a pen and pad of paper as well as requesting one of the soundproof booths on the third floor of Muzzik’s five-story building. Then he waited.
As is often the case with creative types, the musician arrived late. His long hair tied back, with little braids falling forward toward his angular face covered in a semi-beard—a bohemian look or a feeble attempt at growing facial hair, Sean didn’t know—the musician introduced himself by his stage name, Sage.
“So, Sage, what is the special sound you’ve got going?”
“Well…I’m not much of a talker. I’ll let you listen.” Sage began to unpack his Neopolitan mandolin, its almond-shaped body with a deep bowl created from curved strips of glued-together wood. He then tuned the instrument using the geared metal tuners to slacken or tighten the metal strings. Finally, he began to strum.
Sean heard notes of such spiritual beauty he was moved to tears. When Sage finished with a soft, lilting strum of the mandolin’s strings, Sean asked him to share his composing secret for the song he’d just performed.
“Well…I was in my loft studio, which is filled with light, and I cranked the windows wide open for some fresh air.” Sage stopped his narrative.
“Yes, go on,” Sean prompted.
After a few too many uncomfortable silent beats, Sage continued. “I grabbed my mandolin and waited. I thought to myself: ‘I am a musician who should compose something. But what?’ At that moment, a soft wind from the open window tickled my ear. It seemed to whisper, ‘Hymn.’”
“OK—”
Sage hurriedly continued, “I felt as if I were fingerless, unable to strum the beautiful sound I craved. I thought, ‘I must reach down deep to feel the waves of emotion.’ A mockingbird disturbed my reverie with something that sounded like ‘Hymn.’”
“You don’t say,” Sean replied incredulously.
“I puzzled over my lacking, ‘Why, oh why can I not interpret my devotional feelings into song?’ Suddenly, through my window in popped a hummingbird, buzzing what sounded like a single word: ‘Hymn.’”
Sean began to doodle comical renderings of Sage on his notepad out of sight of the musician, who was enraptured with his tale.
“Then my heart became full. Inspiration at last! A goose flying south honked ‘Hymn.’ I made my mandolin smile. I thought, ‘I will share this with the world.’ And a car horn bleated ‘Hymn.’ I thanked Hindu seer Bharadvaja for helping me compose the song. Bharadvaja said, ‘True devotion is true love.’”
Sage concluded his story by placing his hands together at heart center, bowing his head, and reverently saying “Hymn.”
Once the musician departed, Sean shook his head in disbelief. He glanced at his pad, where he’d written: “7 Hymns” and “bah-ROD-va-JAUS-a.” I don’t remember writing those notes. Before submitting his report to his supervisor, Sean decided to do an online search for Sage’s Indian guy. According to a well-known yoga website,
Bharadvaja was one of seven seers who composed the hymns featured in the Vedas, which are texts from ancient India written in Vedic Sanskrit. The Vedas form the oldest layer of Sanskrit literature as well as the oldest Hindu scriptures.