every man's cup of tea to compose melodies.”
I felt flattered. It was a good feeling to be praised for my artistic abilities and be treated as a talented musician. At least he didn't laugh like Shalini’s kid sister. I’d never forgive that girl. As my boss looked on with interest, I explained how composing melodies was a matter of inspiration and intuition. He nodded. Once there was a tune available, the next step, of generating an accompaniment, was made easier with the help of software that took care of the rhythm, tempo and scale of the music. He expressed his curiosity to know more.
“The musical arrangements are in MIDI format which is a compact, efficient way to manipulate the tempo, beat placement and other parameters of the song,” I explained further. “I match the rhythm and beats of the MIDI to my tune. But till one uses virtual studio instruments to play these compact MIDI arrangements, the performance doesn’t sound lifelike. It’s possible to do everything on a computer these days.”
“Sounds great! Where did you learn all this?”
“Mostly by reading books and sometimes by browsing the internet at public cafes,” I replied. “I want to try out some of these software products in more details after I buy my own computer.”
“RK, if you want you can install some of your music software on my desktop computer, I won’t mind,” he said in an encouraging, friendly tone. “You have my permission.”
Delighted, I downloaded a couple of freeware and installed them on his computer. But when I spoke to my father over phone the next time, he asked me to remove them immediately.
“Don't do anything that can be considered ethically wrong,” he cautioned. “Remember that if you do something wrong in life, even unknowingly, you leave behind a trace of such wrongdoings, which can be misused against you later if you ever fall out of favor with your benefactor.”
I wanted to tell him that Dwapayanan didn’t seem like such a person, who’d penalize me vindictively if our relations ever soured, but checked myself. I’d found him to be a glib person, without conscience at times. Overall he seemed to have a soft corner for me, but those who knew him longer- like Shenoy- always cautioned me to be careful of him.
“Remove traces that point back to you the moment they come to your notice, Rajat,” father continued. “No matter who authorizes you, always use your own judgment whether the action is justified or not, right or wrong. In this case, I think your act of using his official computer for personal music compositions is not justified. How can you use office resources for personal pursuits?”
Perhaps he was right. My sense of right and wrong were not out of the world, but at my age it was easy to be misled by outsiders, otherwise I couldn't be very wrong in my principles for they were not my original ones. I’d picked them up from father. I’d heard him praised by family folks, neighbors and his office colleagues alike.
Over time I came to realize what a straightforward, honest man he was, and how difficult it was to earn the title of gentleman from one’s peers, seniors and juniors alike. His earnings were made of pure sweat and salt, honest to the core, though meager. He couldn't grow much career wise, naturally.
“Perhaps I made a mistake, father,” I admitted. “I’ll remove my music software from his PC.”
“Yes, do it early.”
“By the way, when did Shalini return? And how’s her sister?”
“She’s again down with fever. Seems the medicine you gave only worked for a week before the fever returned,” he replied. “They’re all quite worried in their family.”
He didn’t say anything about Shalini, so I wanted to ask again when she had returned from her tour. Since I’d also asked about Ragini in the same breath, he had responded only about the latter’s fever. I agreed that her fever was a genuine concern for her family and made a mental note to look up my
I felt flattered. It was a good feeling to be praised for my artistic abilities and be treated as a talented musician. At least he didn't laugh like Shalini’s kid sister. I’d never forgive that girl. As my boss looked on with interest, I explained how composing melodies was a matter of inspiration and intuition. He nodded. Once there was a tune available, the next step, of generating an accompaniment, was made easier with the help of software that took care of the rhythm, tempo and scale of the music. He expressed his curiosity to know more.
“The musical arrangements are in MIDI format which is a compact, efficient way to manipulate the tempo, beat placement and other parameters of the song,” I explained further. “I match the rhythm and beats of the MIDI to my tune. But till one uses virtual studio instruments to play these compact MIDI arrangements, the performance doesn’t sound lifelike. It’s possible to do everything on a computer these days.”
“Sounds great! Where did you learn all this?”
“Mostly by reading books and sometimes by browsing the internet at public cafes,” I replied. “I want to try out some of these software products in more details after I buy my own computer.”
“RK, if you want you can install some of your music software on my desktop computer, I won’t mind,” he said in an encouraging, friendly tone. “You have my permission.”
Delighted, I downloaded a couple of freeware and installed them on his computer. But when I spoke to my father over phone the next time, he asked me to remove them immediately.
“Don't do anything that can be considered ethically wrong,” he cautioned. “Remember that if you do something wrong in life, even unknowingly, you leave behind a trace of such wrongdoings, which can be misused against you later if you ever fall out of favor with your benefactor.”
I wanted to tell him that Dwapayanan didn’t seem like such a person, who’d penalize me vindictively if our relations ever soured, but checked myself. I’d found him to be a glib person, without conscience at times. Overall he seemed to have a soft corner for me, but those who knew him longer- like Shenoy- always cautioned me to be careful of him.
“Remove traces that point back to you the moment they come to your notice, Rajat,” father continued. “No matter who authorizes you, always use your own judgment whether the action is justified or not, right or wrong. In this case, I think your act of using his official computer for personal music compositions is not justified. How can you use office resources for personal pursuits?”
Perhaps he was right. My sense of right and wrong were not out of the world, but at my age it was easy to be misled by outsiders, otherwise I couldn't be very wrong in my principles for they were not my original ones. I’d picked them up from father. I’d heard him praised by family folks, neighbors and his office colleagues alike.
Over time I came to realize what a straightforward, honest man he was, and how difficult it was to earn the title of gentleman from one’s peers, seniors and juniors alike. His earnings were made of pure sweat and salt, honest to the core, though meager. He couldn't grow much career wise, naturally.
“Perhaps I made a mistake, father,” I admitted. “I’ll remove my music software from his PC.”
“Yes, do it early.”
“By the way, when did Shalini return? And how’s her sister?”
“She’s again down with fever. Seems the medicine you gave only worked for a week before the fever returned,” he replied. “They’re all quite worried in their family.”
He didn’t say anything about Shalini, so I wanted to ask again when she had returned from her tour. Since I’d also asked about Ragini in the same breath, he had responded only about the latter’s fever. I agreed that her fever was a genuine concern for her family and made a mental note to look up my
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