‘Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly.’
– Langston Hughes (1902–1967); a prominent American poet, social activist, novelist, playwright, and columnist.
As the band packed up and the curtains closed on yet another lacklustre performance, the dimly lit and poorly decorated stage reflected the harsh reality of a man whose life had become a shadow dance between dreams and disillusionment.
Meet Valli, a man entangled in a web of unfulfilled aspirations and misplaced priorities. From his earliest days, Valli found solace in the melodies that poured from the radio, his soul tethered to the world of music like a lifeline. It was as if the music was the oxygen to his soul. Each note was a lifeline to a world where he felt he belonged.
Valli was named by his father after Frankie Valli, an American singer and actor, best known as the lead singer of the Four Seasons, a pop-rock group that gained fame in the 1960s. The father had good intentions, but the letter “v” was foreign to the local tongue, so Valli eventually turned to Bali and stayed that way all his life.
A simple farmer, Bali’s father had a deep love for music but was also acutely aware of life’s harshness. Their home was filled with the sounds of music, playing from a battered old radio that had seen better days. Bali’s father often said, “Son, if you can find a way to sing your heart out, you’ll never feel the pain of this world.” Those words were both a comfort and a curse.
As a young man, Bali carried the weight of his namesake like an unfulfilled prophecy. He imagined his voice soaring to the heights of fame, just like Frankie Valli’s, captivating audiences with its power and emotion. But the reality was far more ordinary.
Like the rest of us his schoolmates, Bali’s young years were spent pursuing an education. After high school, he went to university whereas I opted to start working to help support my family. My interaction with him was intermittent, so several of the stories I heard about him were second-hand. Be that as it may, I heard that on the side, he continued his musical pursuit. He found time to sing as a solo act or with whatever band he could find. Over the years, during the few occasions when we bumped into each other in Kuching, he sang with my band at various pubs and nightclubs where I and some like-minded friends moonlighted to pursue a second income.
A major problem with him is his rather low self-awareness. Sure, he could sing reasonably well but he failed to realise that it lacked the quality that instantly grabbed people’s attention. His singing came off as “well-practised” which resulted from frequent practice and rehearsals rather than from a unique deep natural talent.
Hence, every performance seemed to lead to the same disappointing end: polite applause from sparse audiences, and a few words of encouragement, but nothing more. He was always just another act in the long lineup of dreamers.
Now and then, some well-meaning and sensible friends commented, “Music is a beautiful dream, but dreams don’t put food on the table.” Bali would nod, understanding their concerns but unable to let his passion go.
Bali did have a white-collar job but could not climb high up the proverbial career ladder as he was always distracted by his musical dreams. Still, he kept his job to make ends meet while his guitar collected dust in the corner of his rented house.
His heart ached realising that his dreams were slipping further away with each passing day. He’d see posters of big concerts, read about successful musicians, and feel the sting of his unfulfilled potential.
Yes, he had talent, but it was raw, never nurtured, trained, or tested against the best in the industry. Performing in karaoke pubs, nightclubs, and competitions seemed enough to him when he was younger. He mistook the applause from some supportive people as a sign of his greatness.
Despite reality’s nagging voice, Bali clung to his passion for music, hoping it would compensate for his lack of high-level talent and elevate his status. He poured his heart and soul into his performances, seeing the stage as a sanctuary from his doubts.
But with time, the truth became undeniable: he was chasing a dream beyond his grasp. What once seemed promising now revealed itself as a dead-end street, littered with broken promises and shattered dreams.
Opportunities slipped away, leaving him grasping at a fading hope. The applause of fans became a distant memory, drowned out by the silence of failure. The spotlight, once his beacon, now mocked him from afar, highlighting the gap between his aspirations and reality.
His finances crumbled, bills mounting like an insurmountable mountain. The allure of fame had blinded him to life’s practicalities, leaving him stranded as the world moved on without him.
Nonetheless, Bali clung to music like a drowning man to a raft, finding solace on stage, if only occasionally and momentarily. Whenever he found himself alone, Bali would lose himself in fantasies of what could have been. He would replay his performances in his mind, each note a painful reminder of his inadequacy. But still, he persisted, his determination fueled by a stubborn refusal to acknowledge the harsh reality that awaited him beyond the comforting embrace of delusion.
Stubbornly, Bali continued to tread the path of disillusionment, his steps heavy with the weight of unfulfilled potential. Yet amidst the wreckage of shattered dreams, Bali clung to a flicker of defiance, refusing to surrender to the cruel whims of fate. Deep within him, the heart of a dreamer still beat, unwilling to let go of the melodies that had once set his soul on fire.
As his finances lay in tatters, bills piled high like a mountain he could never hope to climb. But it wasn’t just the external losses that weighed heavy on his soul. Within him, a storm raged, tearing apart the fabric of his self-worth. Doubt gnawed at him like a relentless beast, whispering cruel truths he was unwilling to accept.
Alone, he stood amidst the wreckage of a life misspent, the ruins of his dreams stretching before him like a barren wasteland. Yet even in the depths of despair, a flicker of defiance burned within him.
The allure of adoration and applause can be quite intoxicating for several reasons. Firstly, it taps into his innate desire for validation and recognition. When he received applause or admiration from others, it boosted his self-esteem and made him feel valued and appreciated. To him, it felt like an incredible reward on a psychological level.
Secondly, the rush of adrenaline and dopamine that accompanied public performance and positive feedback was addictive. It created a natural high that he got hooked on, leading to more cravings for excitement and validation that come with being in the spotlight.
Having thought about Bali’s life on and off all these years, I have some poignant takeaways, the first of which is the dual nature of dreams. A dream is like a double-edged sword – it can uplift or devastate. Dreams give purpose and motivation, but when they remain unfulfilled, they can become a source of constant disappointment and pain.
Secondly, Bali’s story highlights the power of passion. His love for music was a driving force, providing joy and a sense of identity. Yet, it also illustrates the limits of passion. Despite his dedication, Bali’s talent was not enough to propel him to stardom.
Thirdly, a significant aspect of Bali’s struggle was his lack of self-awareness. He failed to critically assess his abilities and understand his position relative to the broader industry. This led to a cycle of persistent yet futile efforts.
Fourthly, Bali’s story serves as a cautionary tale about the necessity of practicality. While pursuing one’s passion is important, it should not come at the expense of basic needs and responsibilities.
Fifthly, the story explores the intoxicating effect of external validation. Bali’s craving for applause and recognition drove his relentless pursuit of a music career, even as his financial and personal life crumbled. This highlights the human need for validation and the potential pitfalls of seeking it excessively.
Lastly, Bali’s misplaced priorities — choosing music over career advancement and financial stability — led to his slow and painful downfall, a reminder that while it is important to follow one’s passion, it should not lead to neglecting other crucial aspects of life.
The views expressed here are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of the Sarawak Tribune.
