The Roadside Singer- A Heart Warming Mini Story
Meeting in person for the first time
since they started working remotely, the two colleagues reminisced about the girl whose singing still echoed in their minds.
Story: S A Spencer
Photo by Elizeu
Dias
“I am
missing so many things I was enjoying near Townhall station. The coffee shop
near my office, that Thai restaurant, what’s the name? Oh, yes, Chilli Box Thai
Noodles, and that girl who regularly sings on the way to the station.”
“Come on Belinda,
I understand about that coffee shop. You visited them almost twice daily on
office days. Thai food joint, yes. That was my favourite too. But the girl who
sings near Woolworths? No. I was with you most of the days. Did you ever spend a
minute to listen to her melodies?”
After five
months of adhering to strict Covid guidelines, Leena and I finally let loose
with a fit of laughter. The free air around us tingles each of our nerves. Yes,
the free air, which we probably never valued before Covid changed the
lives of the earth.
The strict
Covid restrictions began in early June 2021, when the second wave was
ruthlessly taking lives of hundreds of thousands across the world. We were not
allowed to visit even the next-door neighbour. Walking on the footpath or the neighbourhood
park was all right, but not meeting a friend there and talking.
As October
drew to a close, the government eased up on the regulations to allow a
gathering of a maximum of five people. It is then Leena, my street neighbour and
office pal, and I decide to meet at the park and spend some time together. Working
from home was beneficial, but we sorely missed the sound of other people’s
conversations at the office and the rumble of the local train.
After chatting
for a full two hours, I return home. Jake, my partner, has also gone to meet his
all-male group, apparently to drink together. That was good. We both needed a
moment to ourselves after twenty-four straight hours of being in each other’s
presence. I make a coffee and step out onto the balcony, listening to the birds
chirping in the serene Parramatta Park.
Leena was
right. As we made our way to the Townhall train station each afternoon, we
always saw the girl singing outside Woolworths Super Market, yet we never
paused to appreciate her music.
But today,
I can almost hear her voice as her song hums inside my mind.
I noticed
her when I joined a new job in the city, her bright eyes and contagious smile
standing out amongst the crowd. In the afternoon, when I was approaching Woolworths
on my way to the Townhall station, I could feel the beat of her music vibrating
through the footpath. A small open suitcase displayed music CDs for dale at $10
per copy, probably composed and sung by the girl. She must be less than twenty-five
years old.
I was not
in a hurry, as my train would take about ten more minutes to arrive. I stood
among almost five people who swayed with the melody of her song. Someone
dropped a coin into her basket. As she sang, she looked at him with admiration,
her voice soft and gentle. I glanced at my watch, the second hand ticking away
and my heart racing as I feared I might miss my train. I trudged towards the
station.
For the two years before the lockdown, her performance was a common sight
as I walked to the station, yet I never gave it a second glance. Her song
lingered in my mind, a gentle hum that I could barely make out.
My phone buzzes as I pace on the balcony. “Leena, did you forget something?” I ask.
“Yes, Belinda. Forgot to
buy her CD.”
“Her means? Who?”
“That girl we talked
about today. I am humming her song but can’t remember her lines.”
Surprise sparks in me.
Leena was also thinking about the same girl at the same time. How is it
possible?
Something sparks inside
me. I remember a quote from a famous singer from his TV interview only a day
ago. The definition of a future famous singer. “If after listening to a song
you hum it without realising, one day will be a famous…”
“Leena, why didn’t we
take the time to sit down and listen to one of her songs all the way through? I’m
wondering how covid has changed her work, now that there’s nobody in the office
and no one around to witness her presentations. The little money she was
earning …” I can’t finish my sentence, as if I have lost my income.
Two months after this. Even
though things have eased up, we are still diligently working from the comfort
of our homes. I am cooking a family dinner when Leena calls me. Her voice sounds
jubilant.
“Tomorrow I am planning
to go to Townhall.” She announces.
“What? You will work from
the office? Like the pre-covid days? Then why begin on a Friday? Start on
Monday.” A small voice in my head urges me to go to the office. Something other
than the bustling atmosphere of the workplace. Am I missing something?
“I am taking a day off to
revisit the places near our office and feel the nostalgia of my favourite
spots. I’m sure you are missing them, too. That coffee shop, the Chilli Box
Thai noodles.”
“Oh, oh, wait.” The smell
of burning rice wafts through the air as I rush to switch off the gas burner of
the overflowing rice pot on the stove.
“What happened?” Leena
asks.
“Nothing. This rice pot.” I pause for a few moments. “Me too. Leena, do you
mind if I join you too? Are you going alone, or Peter is with you?”
“That’s why I called you. Would you mind joining me?”
That night seemed to stretch on endlessly, and the next day felt just as
long until the afternoon. When we finally ride on the local train, I ask, “Are
you sure that coffee shop is still open? And the Thai restaurant?”
A cloud comes over her face. “No. not sure. Two years without income is
long time for any small business to survive. Let’s pray and see.”
I take her hand in my lap, “We should have prayed from the day everything
closed down. I think this is too late now.” My eyes pool.
In an hour, we step off the train at Townhall station and hear the usual
hustle and bustle as we march towards our office. It is about four in the
afternoon and earlier than we used to leave the work those days.
“Belinda, did you see?” Leena nudges me with her elbow. “She is there. Did
our last-minute prayer work?”
A chortle comes out of my mouth. “Yes, God knew we will forget to pray entirely
for the two years and would remember in the last hour. He forgave us and
granted our wish.”
Leena stops and looks at me. “In fact, GOD did the same.”
The girl is there already and is arranging her merchandise to prepare for roadside
performance.
She welcomes us both with a big smile. “How are you, ladies?”
I want to say, ‘we both are your big fans and want to attend your show
today’. But I can’t seem to get my lips to part. What if she remembers us by
our faces, and knows that we never stopped to hear her out, not even for a
moment?
“Hi, I am Leena. Belinda, my friend and I both are here today so that we
can witness you performing and also buy your CDs.”
I look at her box, there’s no CD there. My heart pounds.
“Sure,” she chuckles, “I would love to sing for my fans. By the way, I’m
Fiona.”
“That’s a beautiful name, Fiona. Can I ask you something if you don’t
mind?”
A beautiful smile curves across her lips.
We come to know that there is almost thirty minutes more before she would
normally begin performing. Immediately after buying three coffees from the
nearby shop, Leena and I engage with Fiona.
She tells us her life story.
“My parents died of an accident when I was seventeen. Relatives helped me with
everything, but once the death rituals were over, they all went back to their
own lives. And I went into depression. That is when this charity came into my
life. Helping me to face the world and build my life. I owe my success to this
tiny, family-managed non-profit that operates on a tight budget. I work in an
office. Seven to three, every day. After that I perform here. Whatever money I collect,
including selling my CD, I give to them. Because someone like me always needs
help. There are also some people who donate to me regularly.”
Leena and I look at each other.
She is no ordinary singer.
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