"Courage is the first of all human qualities because it is the quality which guarantees all others." - Winston Churchill.
(The previous day) "Yes, John, there is a concert at TAC college tomorrow. Would you like to come?" Now in the bus, moving along the bumpy road, there I was, after being informed that I'll be more than a spectator at the event. I was ambivalent - excited about performing in front of a large audience, yet drowned in a more apparent feeling of an impending fiasco. I have done impromptu speeches, but not unrehearsed performances! The music teacher said he got the invitation late also. He must have felt accomplished, having lured me into playing at the concert. Finally, we completed the first part of our journey a little behind schedule. Our school had developed this image of "being late" as we were dilatory the last time we had a function at TAC college. As we quietly walked to our reserved seats, trying hard not to attract any attention, we had the other participating schools staring at us with such negative energy. The first part of the concert - the one for the beginners soon ended. Next, the intermediate pianists from the different schools were called out. I didn't raise a foot, as I was already intimidated by the expertise displayed by the last 'beginner' pianist; and he played my intended piece, "Rondo alla turca," by Mozart. But, to my surprise, the pianist who classified themselves into the intermediate weren't as spectacular as the beginner. Now, the last remained ant this was for the veterans. The British coordinator called out for any experts. A long cold silence followed, and then he called out again. I knew I had to represent my school, though I wasn't obliged to and after a self-debate, I stood up. A few more performers joined me. After about two of them played, I sat at the piano, still trying to dig out a piece from my memory. I began playing the popular Beethoven classic, "Fur Elise." Apart from my playing, I could also hear the hall silent in astonishment. Hitting the last four keys of the piece, the crowd began to stand and applaud. I'd never gotten such a loud echoing applaud from the performer's angle - this was a simple piece I play almost every day at home. I was the expert of the evening. Certainly, I was glad I took the first step of courage and with an enthusiastic handshake from the coordinator, I took a bow.
(The previous day) "Yes, John, there is a concert at TAC college tomorrow. Would you like to come?" Now in the bus, moving along the bumpy road, there I was, after being informed that I'll be more than a spectator at the event. I was ambivalent - excited about performing in front of a large audience, yet drowned in a more apparent feeling of an impending fiasco. I have done impromptu speeches, but not unrehearsed performances! The music teacher said he got the invitation late also. He must have felt accomplished, having lured me into playing at the concert. Finally, we completed the first part of our journey a little behind schedule. Our school had developed this image of "being late" as we were dilatory the last time we had a function at TAC college. As we quietly walked to our reserved seats, trying hard not to attract any attention, we had the other participating schools staring at us with such negative energy. The first part of the concert - the one for the beginners soon ended. Next, the intermediate pianists from the different schools were called out. I didn't raise a foot, as I was already intimidated by the expertise displayed by the last 'beginner' pianist; and he played my intended piece, "Rondo alla turca," by Mozart. But, to my surprise, the pianist who classified themselves into the intermediate weren't as spectacular as the beginner. Now, the last remained ant this was for the veterans. The British coordinator called out for any experts. A long cold silence followed, and then he called out again. I knew I had to represent my school, though I wasn't obliged to and after a self-debate, I stood up. A few more performers joined me. After about two of them played, I sat at the piano, still trying to dig out a piece from my memory. I began playing the popular Beethoven classic, "Fur Elise." Apart from my playing, I could also hear the hall silent in astonishment. Hitting the last four keys of the piece, the crowd began to stand and applaud. I'd never gotten such a loud echoing applaud from the performer's angle - this was a simple piece I play almost every day at home. I was the expert of the evening. Certainly, I was glad I took the first step of courage and with an enthusiastic handshake from the coordinator, I took a bow.