In the Beginning . . .

Let's quickly catch-up on what has happened so far:

My late father introduced me to classical music at a tender age, out of a desire to create a culture of (good) music in the environment his children grew in. I took the introductory part (I am not sure I had a choice; I don't even remember being asked if I was interested) and 'bailed' when the unanticipated disciplinary measures came for failing to practice. I snuck back to the piano out of genuine interest a few years later. This time, my father decided to let me be and learn at my own pace. Soon after, I joined the church choir and sang treble with 'head voice'. I thoroughly enjoyed choir practices, and considered myself a young leader in my part. Hmmnn!!!!

A few months after I got the opportunity to dress up in choir robes and be a regular part of the service processions, the Organist and Choir-master took ill and was admitted to hospital for a period of time. A void was then created as he had no assistants. Interestingly, no one other than my father was 'worthy' to take up the challenge [the result of a dearth of music knowledge in the community]. I, on the other hand, came to evening services which my father had stopped attending at the time. It took a while, but I finally mustered courage [amidst lots of encouragement] to get on the organ and accompany the singing. When word got to my father, he was furious [I later learnt that his anger was out of fear that I would damage the instrument and he would have to cough money out for its repairs], but only for a while; he turned out to be my greatest fan and critic, just as I 'graduated' to major services.

(to be continued)