It was the matchless story of ages, the spectacle of the Nations and the untold mystery of world’s greatest wonder articulated in a magnificent performance of the season. The awesome display of a refined synchronized work of art, gift and beauty converged in a grand public statement of the blazing trail. It was the story of past, present and future unfolding along a common story-line in such an ineluctable fashion there were simply no words to depict. The sponsors and critics of fate and destiny alike were engrossed in a heated endless contest on which way the spectacle was exactly headed. Yet it seemed truth lay way beyond either, rapidly moving forward in a life of her own, a domain elusive from the wit and scrutiny of the naked mind and eye respectively, with the child like simplicity of the substance it bore: Truth!
The Nations watched intently from the humongous L-i-f-e shaped auditorium. They followed with undivided attention as the incredible voices from the grand orchestra saturated the atmosphere with an unusual dense sense of veneration. That it was a grand orchestra made it quite outstanding. The reality of it flying at F-Major however made it a thrill beyond tale…simply a marvel in a class of its own. The conductor savored the sweet flavor, pleasantly lost in the glowing display now engulfing him slowly but surely. The mesmerizing tune told of a high priority mission whose origin and destination is boundless, one whose stakes were high, a progressive highest priority calling for the office and function to dance in a divorce-free union. It was the high call to constant contact with the flight control and domain in renewal, for the naked eye and mind stood the perpetual risk of missing it all together. Even at their best.
The orchestra approached a decisive transition. All was well as the conductor opened his arms wide open in anticipation. There was something in the atmosphere. Whether or not one could put it into words, there was no denying it, for in the heart of the spectator and performer alike,it was imminent, a new dawn was beckoning. It was one of those moments the stakes were really high, with a zero margin for error, when there are only two options on the table: History has to be marked in style or style has to mark history! One could only hope it would be all systems go at the defining point. Hope was the word. And this was one of those moments a nasty turn of events came knocking.
“Stop!” Shouted an enraged conductor at the top of his voice, his eyes fixed at the concertmaster. The audience was heavily pregnant with expectation as the auditorium went gravely silent.
“That was F-Minor, not F-Major!” Remember you have to keep it at F-Major no matter what happens…you knew that, didn’t you?! Now see what disaster you’ve caused. Your crucial instrument is from now on muted…indefinitely. What are we going to do?!
The senior woke up with a start, clutching at his imaginary violin as if fighting to rescue it from the grip of a monster. He was just about to realize some privileges come at a higher cost and the tragedy that could arise when office and function run in different domains. Next…
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