“The Tales of Sorrow” for string orchestra and violin

“The Tales of Sorrow” is my reflection on our collective emotional experience across borders, cultures, and generations. We, each of us, arrive into this world alone and, whether we like it or not, we depart from it likewise. In essence, we are transit passengers, traversing the globe in search of a place where we belong, where we can put down roots, even if just for a short while.
A poet once said: without sorrow, we can't know true happiness. While every human being strives to be happy, we all carry our tale of sorrow with us. Somewhere, deep inside we cherish it for it helps us comprehend the state of bliss. The inevitable chiaroscuro of the human soul. In the year 2020 we, the people of Earth, have begun a new tale of sorrow - from a blank page, handed to us by circumstance far beyond anyone's control. In a world separated by a multitude of inequities, opposing traditions, and cultural differences, we were given one common denominator - a sorrow of isolation. A sorrow of witnessing something truly harrowing on a global scale. Loss. Confusion. Anger. And, finally, gratitude for being able to draw a breath, smell the sea air or take a stroll in the park. In this moment of history, we all have become the same: just humans staying alive. In Moscow, in New Delhi, in a rural village or a tropical island - we have experienced the same kind of sorrow together. And it has bound us forever. All of us, without exception.
Tales of Sorrow begins at a proverbial train station. Protagonist: we, the people. We are at an intersection of past and future, in motion, carried forward by time. The opening section is like an epigraph: the multiplicity of voices and counterpoint create a living, breathing texture that places us instantly in various locations around the globe.
The pre-recorded tape of Moscow's train station, interspersed with yodeling utterances off- stage, in a seemingly misfitted duet with the first violin imbues the narrative with dimension. Out of the sea of sounds of the opening, the A-section commences with violins zooming in on an individual voice; its tale of its sorrow. The sweeping, achingly somber melody unravels slowly, without end, as though saying: in this one line - there is a lifetime. Supported by cellos it grows, searching for a place of rest, unable to find it yet. The movement in the baseline replaces sustained notes, lending the narrative inner urgency. Finally, the primo violin breaks out from the rest of the strings with newfound desperation to reach for that elusive place of peaceful respite. With leaps, rhythmic hemiolas, and suspensions the protagonist musters every ounce of force to finally reach the pinnacle. The register expands, covering 5 octaves. Just as we think we got there, Section B plunges us into a new world of the enigmatic C#- major. Are we at peace, at last? Something sinister oozes from the warmth of the strings sustaining the bases, with pulsating 3rd scale degree grinding the 'major' sonority into every fiber of our being. And then we hear it: the bell and the chorale. A chilling metaphor for the rush of our lives - where what we strive for is the inevitable end. The eerie calm of this requiem is punctuated by a tolling bell on a c#, played by the first violinist (our protagonist) as he slowly leaves the stage. Like so many have left this world since the start of the pandemic.