Keys to my life.

Taken from The Sunday Star, 14th November 2004.
Written by Leonard Selva Gurunathan.


Many of us have certain things that make us better people and our life, an unforgettable journey. For me, the organ had played and still plays a major role in my life.

It all started when my parents got me an organ when I was 11 years old. I was thrilled to see it in our living room. I wondered: "How am I going to play all those keys with just 10 fingers?"

Mr Jeffrey, my first teacher, was very patient and kind. He sparked my interest in the instrument with creative impro-visations on every piece that he played for me.

By the time I was 13, I realised that whenever I was happy or sad, something would tell me to go to the organ and play. When I was sad, I would play a sad piece; when I was happy, it would be a happy tune.

Once, when I was reprimanded by my father for not completing some assignment he had given me, I went straight for the organ and hit the keys with a clenched fist. That produced a thunderous sound.... Of course, my father gave me a piece of his mind, in a thunderous voice.

When I was in Form Four, the organ took a backseat as I concentrated more on games with my friends. I also decided to take a break from lessons.

That year, I faired badly in my mid-term exams. As I headed home with a heavy heart, I wondered what to tell my parents.

As I reached my house, something told me to look towards the window in the living room. There, with a thick cloth draped over it, was the organ. On top of it was a family photo, books, a vase filled with flowers ... it had become a piece of furniture on which to display household items.

I puled off the cloth and lifted the lid of the organ. It was dusty. I played a few notes and, slowly, it all came back to me. I started playing all my favourite pieces. Suddenly, I realised that my parents were behind me. They were so happy to see me at it again. I told them my results and they said it was okay, as long as I worked harder in future.

A few years later, I entered collage and soon discovered I was in love. While all my friends were busy writing love letters to their heartthrobs, I was composing songs for mine.

I wanted to express my feelings for her without a single word, yet with a thousand sentences. I could only manage that with the organ. There were times when we had minor arguments and would not talk for days. But the minute I played the songs I composed for her on the organ, she would be there.

We are married now and the organ is in our living room. I still play it to communicate with my wife. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I will sit and wonder what the organ means to me. I see my face on its varnished surface and I realised that's how it helps me to express myself - it reflects my emotions.

Well, in a few hours, a young student will be starting his first lesson with me. I think I'll use a mirror to help him understand the beauty of this instrument.