A New Beginning

Iman stares at the building before her. The auditorium looks like it is looming over her, large and intimidating. Shadows cast over, as if trying to block out the sun's positivity, while other areas in the distance are lit with the sun's cheerfulness. This reminds Iman of the buildings in her home country before it was broken by the division of its people. The scents in the air are different too. Here it is pollen and sweet-smelling food from the corner. There it was spice, then ash and smoke and decay. Breathe in, breathe out. Iman exhales out a breath. Here we go, she walks into the building.

Immediately, the sound of noise assaults her senses. For a moment, screams overwhelm her, until it fades away. Voices rising and lowering in volume, a low hum of tune playing in the background. It is crowded. Filled to the brim with contestants from different schools deck out in their school colours, each accompanied by their school chaperone. Ms Secura glance towards her for a moment, then gently place her hand on her shoulder, steering them towards the registry.

"Name?"

"Iman Issa" she states.

"Category?"

"Piano."

"Chaperone?"

"Lila Secura." Ms Secura answer for her. Satisfied with the information, the person hum as they jot down the details onto the registry sheet. Once finished, they pull out pins and instruct them to pin them on. Then, they direct them to a room to wait.

Music has always been Iman's passion. Even in Aleppo, she dreamed of performances in a grand hall, surrounded by spotlights. Her parents were even going to let her start her piano lessons when the war started. Her family was then forced to seek shelter, as fire rain down from the heavens, destroying their home. Iman knew then her dreams were shattered, or so she had thought.

Four years stuck in between warring factions, her family learnt to make it due with their finite resources, when the news came. Her adult cousin had somehow gotten them visas to Australia! The news had made her giddy. Sure, the journey was not pleasant, but it was all worth it in the end. For her, Australia was a chance of a new beginning. Which brings her back to the present.

Upon arriving in their designated room and with permission from Ms Secura, Iman pulls out her sheet music and settle them on the closest flat surface she can find. A colourless table in an equally sparse room, an oddity compared to the rest of the building's ornately decorated halls. A white card, with the school's name printed on it, pasted near the entrance to this mute room. Iman settles down the rest of her things against one of the table's worn legs and sits on the cushioned chair. She spreads the sheets out evenly, eyes trailing through the notes. Her stray curls dangling near her face as she runs through the piece in her head, her hands subconsciously mimicking the motions on her imaginary piano.

Lila looks at her student, smiling at her almost serene position. It only seems as though it was yesterday when she first met Iman, excited as well as nervous for her first lesson, typical for any new student. On a closer look however, there was something about her that radiated experience. It was in the way her eyes darted around while entering a new room, it was the way in which she reacted when Lila place her hand on her shoulder. It was not until later that she found out about her former refugee status. Even then, it changes nothing. It certainly explained some of her quirks, after connecting the dots, but that does not change anything. Today, she is still the same Iman whose eyes lit up every time they start a new piece, who dislikes doing the pedal but loves music with them, who is her student. But she has overcome so much, and Lila was so proud.

The silence is shattered when an attendant enters to let them know it is time. Swiftly, they pack all their things into their bags and follow the attendant.

Walking towards the backstage of the hall Iman feels her heart thumping wildly in her chest, her hands at her sides linking at the back, fidgeting excessively. They are only metres away now from the stage. She can hear the audience's chatter from where she stands. The thumping is now overwhelming her sense of hearing, thump, thump, thump. Breathe, she chides herself. This is what you have wanting for years. Breathe. The large gulping breaths of cool fresh air clear her mind of the fog. Ms Secura turn to her in concern, kneeling in front of her.

"Remember Iman," she clasps her hands into hers, "no matter what happens out there, we are all proud of you."

"I know." The words tumble out in a whisper.

"Keep calm and follow your instincts. They will serve you well." She pulls out the sheet music from the bag and fold it into her hands. "Good luck." And with a gentle push, Iman walks out into the hall.

The spotlight immediately catches onto her, following her to the center. The stage is deserted, apart from a polish grand piano. Iman hold her head up high, eyes straying for a moment to lay at the panel of judges several metres off the stage. At her destination, she sneaks a glance at Ms Secura, who gives a smile. Confidence filling her, she turns towards the judges.

"My name is Iman Issa and I will be performing Fur Elise by Beethoven." she bows. Polite clapping ring throughout the room. Iman makes her way to the piano and seats herself down. She arranges her music in front of her neatly as close as possible. She places her hands on the keys, takes a deep breath, and let her instincts take her away, her dreams coming alive.