The man with a beret and baritone
Voices speak their own language. Like people, they come packaged in different shapes and sizes. Some are coarse and jarring, like sandpaper on rusted metal. While others flow like a stream of sickly saccharin in our ears. Seldom, however, does one hope to rake a jewel in this cacophony.
To find that one voice-authentic, complete and utterly inimitable in itself. You’ll know, then, that you couldn’t possibly forget it. Not even if you tried.
I’m fortunate to have come across one such voice, embodied in the guise of a scrupulous man with white hair. The hair on which sits adorned a trademark beret-the crowning glory. Where else, but in his voice, would Shakespeare have found apt company. How else would Roman comedy have provoked actual laughter?
Imagine, with your eyes closed, a massive theater in some mighty English town. The curtain rises, and an ornate stage appears. A bewildered audience, clasping silence to its heart, goes on waiting. It waits for faces to emerge. But no one comes onstage. There is no actor. Not one, save for a solitary voice. And through that voice alone, the audience can visualize an entire play. Such is the magic of ‘one’ voice...
Not all are blessed with this voice, though.
To growl with the authority of an emperor at one moment, and emulate the meek, whimpering servant at the next; only some can carry it out with haunting finesse. There is a ray of sunshine everyday when we get to immerse ourselves in this treat to our ears.
I hope that it continues to amaze us, as much as I hope that the power of a voice continues to inspire me...
Yours truly
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