Mr. Colon's Opus
by Janjan Perez
I.
"Mr. Colon?"
The old music teacher wearily looked up from the piano keyboard and regarded the bright-eyed young man who came in. He was dressed in a knee-torn pair of Levi's jeans and was sporting the latest model of Oakley sunglasses on the long locks of his hair. The young man proceeded to cross th room. Mr. Colon heard the squeak of newly-bought Converse sneakers. He read the message on the young man's shirt: Down with U.S. Imperialism.
"Good evening Juan," Mr. Colon said.
"And good evening to you, sir! Are you ready with the protest music to play for tomorrow's rally?," the young Juan queried as he gave the teacher the needed score sheets.
"Not yet. But I assure you, I will have it by tomorrow morning with a famous singer to sing it, no less. I am just waiting for the inspiration to come," the old man replied.
"Okay sir. I'm looking forward to hearing it," and with that, plus a lopsided smile, Juan left the music room. Mr. Colon read the message on the back of his shirt: "Pearl Jam on Tour: Live!!!"
"Such a promising young man," thought Mr. Colon to himself and went back to composing the rousing tune that he had on his mind.
At the middle of the composition, the teacher suddenly struck at the keys with impatient irritation.
"No, this doesn't feel right!!! The music is all wrong!!!," Mr. Colon muttered to himself angrily as he pounded on the piano keys. "Maybe the poetry has failed me...," he spoke out in resigned weariness.
"Why couldn't I make the music speak out? Why couldn't I express how I feel?"
Mr. Colon grew tired and frustrated. Here he was: a winner of major music awards, a role model of restless youths everywhere, a catalyst of the anger that revolutionaries felt against the tyrannies of oppression!!!
He was all this and more!!! And yet...
...and yet here he was: Devoid of any inspiration to compose a simple ditty.
Shaking his head, Mr. Colon told himself that he needed a break.
II.
Mr. Colon took the papers that Juan left on the piano and went outside. He began whistling as he headed out of the dark, wooden corridors of the music hall, walking towardds his favorite spot under the huge narra tree.
A tune was fast formulating on his mind. Mr. Colon absentmindedly whistled it as he came by Fr. Bantog, the anti-lotto lobbyist.
"Good evening Father! Will you be joining the "Say No to Drugs" campaign next month? We really need your inspiring presence."
The priest smiled non-commitedly and said, "Probably some other time, Maestro. I will be officiating the mass for Casino Filipino's Anniversary Ball."
Mr. Colon kept quiet as he heard that. Then he shrugged, nodded wistfully to the priest, and headed onwards to the tree.
He almost met a head-on collision.
Two fratmen suddenly broke out in a brawl by his side but luckily Mr. Colon was pulled out by one of the cheering onlookers. Realizing his near-brush with catastrophe, Mr. Colon let out a stream of profuse thanks, but the young man who pulled him out barely heard him as he went back to cheering the fight on.
The young man was wearing a peace medallion.
"Are you okay sir?," a nearby student asked the visibly shaken teacher. Mr. Colon nodded nervously and dusted himself while one of the guards came by and stopped the fight.
Finally, Mr. Colon got to the narra tree. Sweating profusely, he began fanning himself with Juan's papers. Something fell off and he bent down to pick it up.
It was the financial statement of last month's "Government Anti-Poor" rally.
Mr. Colon read the paper, surprised at the amount allocated for the rally funds. He was more aghast at how much was spent for the speakers' honorarium, the advertising, the streamers, the snacks and the propaganda materials. All in all it was enough to feed a family of six for over two weeks.
And then it happened.
A soft chanting of internal poetry began to suffuse the air that Mr. Colon
breathed. The poetry kept on playing as he stared dumbfounded at the
financial statements. Mr. Colon closed his eyes and began to listen.
He had found the music.
Excited, Mr. Colon hurried back to the music room.
III.
The day of the rally finally arrived.
A numerous throng of militant youths congregated athe the grand stand before the Department of Foreign Affairs building as chants of "Tuta ng Americano" filled the air. They were all here. Young men and women... clamoring for change... eagerly awaiting yet another of Maestro Colon's masterpieces... they were all excited. Rumors say that Mr. Colon himself promised this song to be the best one ever.
A loud harrumph boomed over the speakers as the emcee announced to the crowd that the show was about to begin. This was it! They all became quiet as Mr. Colon came onstage with the popular lead singer, Elias Buendio of the band "the Pencilnecks."
Mr. Colon smiled to everyone. The throng of happy demonstrators cheered him on as Elias Buendio waved to all his gawking fans.
The Maestro nodded and began to speak.
"Ladies and gentlemen... good day."
"A lot of thought and inspiration went into this song as I reflected hard on what I wanted to impart to you, my beloved young people. This is my message: May the winds of change forever be for your betterment."
A joyous and collective cheer rose in accolade of the Maestro. Yes, this song was definitely going to be one of the best yet.
Mr. Colon then continued, "I call this song, 'WHAT MONSTERS HAVE WE WROUGHT?'"
Silence overcame the crowd as the audience strained to listen... wondering.. what would Mr. Colon's song be all about?
Elias Buendio approached the mike. With his every step a surge of anticipation played in the young hearts of our proud nation's revolutionaries. Notes wafted from across the stage, as the orchestra began playing the opening bars. Elias raised his eyes skyward, as if in prayer.
Then he sang.
"I sing of your visions... I sigh wearily at your petty schemes..."
One could hear the whirring of thoughts as the song began to fit in and identify itself.
"You talk of all these changes.. but you only keep them in your dreams"
This wasn't a song praising youth's idealism, no. It was a song of rebuke... a reproach at youth's Phariseeism and hypocrisy, their lack of positive action to back their beliefs.
"Your words clamor for revolution... but your actions tell otherwise."
This wasn't a song about how much the government had failed the masses, no. It was a song that chided the common man for neglecting to help himself... neglecting to help his fellow man.
"You claim you thirst for truth... but my friend you've been living a damn lie."
This wasn't a song about the American corporate pig's Imperialist dichotomies, no. It was a song about the Filipino citizen's love for what was imported and State-side... his dream of sharing a cut in the American pie.
"We all say it's getting better... but let me ask you this: What monsters have we wrought?"
"What the... ?!" "Huh?" "Nganong... ?"
The uncomfortable murmuring continued until the song's message finally sank in. "Heresy!," cried the crowd's collective conscience.
"We claim to be our nation's saviors.. but look me in the eye and tell me: What monsters have we wrought?"
Heresy!!!
Boos, hisses, and taunting shouts rose in crescendo against the song. Relizing that catcalls weren't enough to staunch the wounds of their hurt, some even threw stones and rubbish at Mr. Colon, Elias Buendio, and the orchestra, hoping to replicate the betrayal these musical Judases sold for thirty silver pieces.
"Your words clamor for revolution... but your actions tell otherwise"
Young people who expected an ego stoking began rioting and raging against the scolding that was dished out against them. Chants of "Tuta ng Americano" grew louder and louder in a cacophony of black fury as dire thoughts of lynching festered in the idealistic hearts of the motherland's pride.
"You claim you thirst for truth... but my friend you've been living a damn lie"
Through all the noise and raining rubbish, Elias, the orchestra and Mr. Colon prevailed in playing the song, continuing until its very last notes, wondering if anyone even heard them... seriously doubting if anyone did.
"I could only shake my head and wonder... My God, what monsters have we wrought?"
IV.
Perhaps it was God's grace that someone did hear.
Nay... that someone actually listened.
"You speak to me in riddles... oh you speak to me in rhymes."
Lost amidst the din of the angry horde, a lone silence prevailed. Amidst the cacophony of raucous teenagers, one person kept quiet and reflected.
"Are you not weary of your excuses... are you not tired of your lies?"
Under the great narra tree, a young man wearing a Pearl Jam t-shirt an tattered pair of knee-torn jeans listened as Elias Buendio sang the last line of the song.
"... change begins within us, but tell me... what have we done?"
Juan said nothing. What was the song actually telling him? Juan pondered and pondered and kept quiet.
What has he done?
This thought kept playing and playing in his mind. What has he done?
And then Juan understood.
V.
The local newspapers were quick to write about the whole fiasco that happened in the Department of Foreign Affairs. "Maestro Incites a Violent Riot," one headline read. "Angry Youths Go on Rampage," went another.
But newspapers, being newspapers, missed out on the most important story of all: On that day, someone realized that he's done nothing.
On that day someone got up... and did something about it.
