The (Not So) Talented Mr. Rahardian

Been busy lately. Not so much because of the work load but rather, due to the effort to run away from it. In an attempt to make the company a fun place to work, the management has provided a budget to do ‘fun’ thing together. One of them is through the forming of clubs where employees with the same interest can channel their hobbies. So yours truly lead the way, uncovered the hidden music talents among the employees and formed…a band.

Ah, you’re dying to ask: can I really play any musical instrument? Certainly my friends, not a very good player though. Here’s why.

When I was small my parents bought a piano. Not that they can play or wanted their children to play it later, but because they merely thought it was a good investment—never mind how they had come to that conclusion. Anyway, much later, more as a second thought, they enrolled us (me and my sister) to a piano course.

This was not a fun piano course where small children can have fun learning. The teacher was no other than our great-aunt. She was—is—a very good piano player, but a very tough instructor. Being raised in colonial era (yes, she was that old), she instilled discipline with a draconian method. She demanded us to work hard at the piano lesson at home before coming to her every Wednesday afternoon. Wednesdays with Mbah Emmy then, was a very serious affair.

I didn’t excel at my piano lesson, she was repeatedly mentioned her disappointment of my progress. This was not surprising given that I was more interested in playing with my friends than improving my piano dexterity. My sister on the other hand, was doing very well. But in spite of everything the course continued for 4 years until I reach 6th grade.

At the end of 6th grade, I saw a window of opportunity to get away from that dreaded piano lesson. I said to my mother that if she wanted me to excel in the final exam, I need some time off from the piano lesson so I could concentrate on my study. Afterwards she can enroll me back. Voila, wish granted.

So I passed the exam and accepted in a good junior high-school like my parents wish for. I had prepared myself for the piano lesson to continue…but it didn’t happen and I could not be happier so I just never mentioned it to my parents. They just like forget about it. My sister went on with the lesson and finally ended up being an instructor herself. She was that good.

Time went by and later in high school I somehow discovered my interest in playing piano. With the limited memories of the lesson plus an extra effort to play some popular songs to impress my friends, eventually I learned how to play a piano. Quite happy with my skill, I proposed to play for the vocal group in my class, and we managed to win the competition. Not bad for a self-taught piano player, I thought.

With no possibility of being forced to take a piano lesson anymore, I finally asked my mother on why she didn’t insist me to continue the piano lesson back then. She dropped the bomb: “Mbah Emmy didn’t think you were talented enough to be a piano player.” Ouch…

Back to present. Like I said, I can play but am not a very good player. But I thought who cares? “In the country of the blinds a one-eyed man is a king”, said H.G. Wells. I thought my mediocre musical skill has an edge, since virtually nobody can play piano / keyboard in my office community.

In that H.G. Wells’ story however, that man who can see is ridiculed in the country of the blinds because the blinds have other superior means to sense their environment. Same here: although I have a monopoly power over the keyboard, the other members of the band don’t really appreciate it. This is because I am unable to fulfill their demand to play most of the songs they wanted. So much for the talent and the monopoly power…

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