Story Inspired by Picture:
I AM PROUD TO BE A PIRATE
I used to wonder what went on in your own little hiding place; your music room. Once, you let me in, and I felt like I was in on a secret. I knew you thought that I was special; special enough to share the space where you are most yourself.
I went in and I was amazed at the rows of old school cassette tapes placed neatly, resting against the wall next to the door of the room. I noticed that there was no dust accumulating on the covers (so unlike my own cassette tapes, well the 3 or 4 that I kept from years ago).
You observed me looking at the tapes and you said ‘I can’t afford to buy all the music I love. I try, but there’s just simply too many that I love.’ I smiled at you as if knowing exactly what you mean. I did do the same. Except, for me it was easier, all the music I get from illegal means goes straight into my IPOD, leaving no trace or evidence of foul play unlike your hundred cassette tapes.
I closed my eyes; reached forward; grabbed the first cassette tape my fingers touched.
“Play this for me.”
You smiled and took the cassette from my hands. I nearly teared as I watched the way you handled it; with so much care and love. It made me ashamed of the way I treated my IPOD. At that moment I vowed never to take IPOD for granted ever again.
I sat there in your music room, next to you, sipping tea, feeling humbled, as Bob Dylan’s voice took over our thoughts.
-Nilofer Ashraff
