Nestled in the huddle of whitewashed cottages, in a remote village of Scotland lived the Smiths. The eldest daughter of the Smiths, Emily, was a young woman with a vibrant persona. Her mellifluous voice has won the hearts of many. Coming from a humble background, her parents could not harness or recognise her latent talent. The voice reverberating through the glens had such innate depths that it would stir the soul of any passerby.
Emily sat across on the floor with a piece of grey fabric spread over her lap. As the needle flipped in and out of the cloth, she was humming a Scottish lilt. The humble villagers knew not the uniqueness of such a melody. Neither did Emily herself. The illusive and alluring notes was like a symphony to hum forever. Dainty patterns of flowers were intricately sewn on the fabric which revealed her love for art and craft. “Emily! Go and collect the twigs for the fire.,, no need to waste your time singing!” the harsh voice of her mother startled her peace. Sometimes poverty is the root cause of ruining one’s creativity.
Many a times talents in remote areas go unnoticed. Lack of opportunity, education and awareness are the key factors. As Emily goes out to gather wood for the fire, an old lady was walking with a stick near the forest. Emily was too busy with her chores to notice her and was as usual humming to herself as she picked up the dried twigs. Amazed by the mystical quality and serenity of Emily’s voice, the old lady was stupefied. “Lass, do you live here? Are you a singer?” the lady asked her. “No, Mam. I’m not a singer and I live here. I’m just…” Emily was suddenly tongue-tied in front of a stranger. The stylish, old lady was staring at her intently. “You mean to say you don’t know that you are a marvellous singer?” the lady was incredulous . Emily looked blankly at her. “Would you like to sing in a concert?” the lady moved towards her. “I’ll take you to town and make you a famous singer. You have tremendous potential.”
Awestruck by the glamour and high octane razzmatazz of the city, the village lass was nervous and fidgety. Groomed by her mentor she stood on the lighted stage of the Town Hall in front of a huge gathering. The moment to get recognition and fame was poised for her. The sound of the mike, music and the noisy crowd intimidated her to such an extent that she stood transfixed. Oops! Her voice seemed hoarse and she was unable to utter a word. She has come here to unlock a world of privileges! But she realised that no song would overflow spontaneously from her now. A melange if expressions were stuck in her heart and her throat went dry. The crowd grew noisier and she felt like fainting.
To arrive at the Mecca of all things melodious we, sometimes….perhaps need the ambience of nature to outpour our expressions. In the familiarity of our backgrounds can we feel at home and manifest our talents. The flowing river, the highlands, the glens were Emily’s inspiration to passionately hum her natural songs. The artificiality of the city deadened her spirit and thus she was unable to perform. Not born to be s performer… she was the prodigy of nature gathering inspiration for her new symphonies from her first hand experience with the earth.
Albeit her failure at the Town Hall, she was a winner…her simple lyre reaching great heights: a harmony of haven has been recreated by her in the breathtaking Scottish landscapes, the curving river, the snow-capped mountains and endless carpeted countryside. The vales echo with her timeless pieces, totally mesmerising. This is the stuff that dreams are made of.