Issue nº 226

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Reader’s Stories

The Substitute Singer (sent by Murali)

Though I was unable to prove the events of this tale, this event supposedly happened many years ago in the Paris Opera. On the night when a famous tenor was to perform, the packed house was told he would not be able to attend due to traffic.

Concerned, the director of the Opera appeared on the stage to explain what was happening and to ask for a local tenor to act as a substitute.

The audience reacted as expected; with discomfort. Some spectators rose and asked for their money back, while others simply waited to see what lay in store for them, seeing that they had instructed their chauffeurs and made reservations for dinner, and did not quite know how to kill the time.

The substitute tenor came on stage and did the best he could. For two hours he sang with all his heart and soul. At the end, there was almost complete silence, since he was not exactly who the audience had come to hear.

Only one spectator applauded.

In the midst of the clapping a child’s voice was heard, “Daddy, you’re great! Just great!”

The next moment, the whole theater gave a standing ovation; a simple word of love had changed everything.

The Old Fado Singer (sent by Cristina Santos)

The veranda of my house faces west, which receives sunlight almost all afternoon on the clear days of winter or summer. One morning, I was busy with some household tasks when I saw the humble, ragged figure of a man; he may not have been very old, but he had been badly treated by life and time.

He used crutches, because one of his legs was withered. What really impressed me, though, was that even with the crutches he managed to carry an old classical guitar!

He sat down at a bar in front of the house and began to sing. As soon as I heard his voice, I started to shake all over! It was so beautiful, like the voice of an angel, serene and blessed, yet sad. Little by little it filled the whole atmosphere, echoing against the walls, involving and elevating me ... I noticed the involuntary tears that fell to the floor from my eyes and saw people coming out to their verandas, touched by the music. Children stopped their games, stupefied and thrilled.

I realized that I was experiencing a moment of ephemeral eternity, a communion with other souls, as if by magic we had been called to another dimension, to a more beautiful universe where perhaps everything made sense... or perhaps not!

At last his voice grew quiet and a silence remained that had an almost oppressive taste of emptiness, but then hands clapped effusively, smiles lit up and the children cried out enthusiastically for an encore.

But the man, as if he had fulfilled his mission, gathered up his crutches and guitar and went on his way. I ran out and only rested when I caught up to him, all out of breath. It was so obvious that the fado was his livelihood that I squeezed some money into his hand, but I swear that it was only when I gave him a warm embrace and asked him never to stop singing that his tired, wrinkled face grew soft ... and he smiled at me!

I never saw him again, but I would like to believe that he is walking down other paths, weeping his fado songs, fulfilling his mission. If he happens to stop by near you, please tell him that I have not forgotten him.

Doesn’t the Master Suffer With His Disciples? (Sent by Arash)

A disciple asked Firoz, “The mere presence of a master brings around all types of curious people, who come forward to meet him and see if there is something the master knows that will benefit them. Can’t this be both prejudiced and negative? Can this not veer the master from his path? Or make him suffer for not being able to teach these people what they want?”

Firoz, the Sufi master, replied, “The sight of an avocado tree laden with fruit whets the appetite of all who pass by it. If someone wishes to satisfy his hunger beyond his needs, he will eat more avocados than necessary and fall ill. However, this causes no indigestion to the owner of the tree. The path must be open to everyone, but God is in charge of setting the limits of each person."

Isaac is Needed (posted by Orit)

 A certain rabbi was adored by his community, everyone was always delighted with what he had to say.

All, that is, except for Isaac, who never missed an opportunity to contradict the rabbi's point of view and point out flaws in his teachings. The others were disgusted with Isaac, but could do nothing.

One day, Isaac died. During the funeral, the community noticed that the rabbi was deeply saddened.

“Why are you so sad?” someone asked him, “he found fault with everything you said!”

“I am not sad for my friend who is now in heaven,” the rabbi replied, “I am sorry for myself. While everyone else revered me, he consistently challenged me, and I was forced to improve. Now that he is gone, I am afraid I will stop learning and growing.”