Little Miss ditsy was smiling wide. She always wanted a huge audience. The applause was roaring through the marble walls. Her heart was beating as loud as the echoes of the cheers which were heard. Penniless, she stood on the side of the street. She called herself a musician. They called her a nuisance. She would consider herself to be a painter devoid of a canvas. Her dream of appeasing thousands with the melodies that came from her violin overtook her very existence. Every day she would play a song on the street searching for interested faces and shiny coins. Searching for validation. It was something she never got in her childhood. Her parents chose to be unbothered, not giving Ditsy the care and attention that every child needed. She could never accept that truth in her life. So she started to seek the acceptance in others, since she couldn’t find it within herself. She found solace in music. It gave her life.
Every night, when the yelling came to a halt and everything went quiet, she would sit in front of the television and try to separate the static from the alluring sounds that were emitting from the violin which was being controlled by an alluring man. Sickowitz was a maestro. His fingers did wonders to people who considered him to be somewhat of a god. She would sit and watch, mesmerized with the sound and think to herself that she would get away from this god awful place and make it big one day. Once she was old enough, Ditsy ran away from her broken home along with her savings and the first thing she did was gift herself something she always wanted; a violin . It was old and feeble, just like the man who sold it to her. There were dents on edges of the purple wood and the strings weren’t tuned but she cherished it with her life. She practiced and practiced until she became one with the instrument. She started playing on the street and sometimes people would clap and other times, offer change from their pockets.
Days turned into months and Ditsy was still stuck in the same place, hoping for anyone who would be able to separate her sound from her surroundings. All her waiting turned out to be fruitful one day. The tires came to a halt and an old woman whose personality matched with that of the car stepped out of it. Ditsy paid no heed to anything around her whenever she played so she didn’t notice her. “What a beautiful sound that is. Where did you learn to play like that?”, the woman asked. When Ditsy opened her eyes, curiosity struck her as looked at the mysterious woman. “Why thank you. I taught myself to play”. “You taught yourself? That’s quite a surprise! What is your name sweetheart?” “I’m Ditsy. It’s a pleasure to meet you”, she replied. “Likewise. Miss Ditsy I want to give you a chance to flourish. Away from this rubbish that surrounds you and take you to a place where you can dine with the stars”. Ditsy thought about what she said and decided to give herself a chance. She agreed and got into the car along with the woman.
A week had passed after the encounter and Ditsy was told that she will be performing for a huge audience at the theatre. When it was time to perform, Ditsy could feel the butterflies in her tummy as she peeked behind the curtains and studied the small crowd who were patiently waiting to hear her for the first time. The nerves were getting to her as she walked onto the stage. But once the bow touched the strings, Ditsy let the instrument consume her. She put her heart and soul into it, just like she used to when she was on the street. The symphony gave way to the silence of the audience who were listening attentively, falling in love with the sound. Once the bow stopped moving, there was utter silence followed by an uproar. The glimmer in the eyes of those people caused her to smile. Finally she was able to achieve her dream. As the weeks had passed, the money started rolling in and gone were the cold sleepless nights when she had no food or money. Now Ditsy started to live the high life.
Money, fame and luxury became a part of her life. She was now Little Miss Ditsy, The Belle of the Ball. She earned praises and adoration from all those who would come to hear her play at the cosmic theatre. Eventually, the rags to riches narrative of hers took off and then she gained respect from those people. Everything was perfect on the outside. Acceptance was what she longed for all her life and once she got it, she wanted more. More money, more praise, more fame. There was no doubt that the woman who found her saw something in her. Money. She wanted to make as much money out of her as possible. A month passed and Miss Ditsy had nothing but success. Every night, her shows would be filled with humongous crowds, most of whom did not know a thing about music. They had just come to show that they were people of taste and wealth. It was quite ironic actually. She ended up right where she started. Playing to those who were indifferent to her talent, and only paid attention to her surroundings and her wealth. It took a while for her to realize what was happening.
One evening, while Miss Ditsy was in the middle of playing her piece, she opened her eyes to look at the people who were listening. She was astonished to see how dull and lifeless their eyes were; almost as if they were waiting for her to finish so they can leave. Once she finished, she awaited for the familiar sound of applause to follow. Of course, the room was filled with cheers and clapping. But something was missing. Their hands were clapping but their eyes; their eyes almost looked inanimate. Fake. Indifferent. In that moment, everything felt fake to her. Miss Ditsy had to make a tough decision. Either she leaves this place and let her love for music drive her…..or stays back and let money become her only object of affection. She decided to stay.
Day after day her caliber seemed to be falling lower and lower. “If they don’t care, why should I?” she would say to herself but in thinking so, she disregarded the few people who genuinely did. The people who once called her a shining star were now telling tales of the rise and downfall of Little Miss Ditsy. She was no longer considered a Maestro. Her passion for violin and the fire in her soul was gone. ‘She only plays to be paid.’ they said. The saddest part was that she believed them. She was enraged at herself but she still did not try to find the spark in herself. After a lot of thought, she decided on one thing. She asked people to come and watch her as she will be giving her best performance yet. It definitely would be her best; but it would also be her last. They say an artist dies twice. The death of the man and the death of the artist inside him. The latter often precedes the former. The day Miss Ditsy realized that she was nothing but the shell of a soul which she once was, she broke.
Little Miss ditsy was smiling wide. She always wanted a huge audience. Her heart was as still as the stage on which she stood on. This time there wear tears in her eyes.
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