There's something disturbingly wrong about two people in the same room bound by a common source of energy reacting with completely different emotions to the same.

I didn't feel anything as I watched her cry. Except mild puzzlement maybe. And dumbfoundedness. At the fact that I obviously had missed the point. One important enough to extract the precious tears of a woman. So I stood there, a little unsure at first if she was in fact, weeping. Have you ever noticed how people's faces often look so similar in the expression of emotional content diagonally opposite to each other, when the intensity is roughly the same? A photograph of a woman shouting, laughing or crying could look identical. It's usually my aural senses which help me in deciding what the person is feeling. Pain. Joy. Mirth. Disgust.

But the room was loud. So I couldn't really hear much. And she spoke a language I didn't understand, so her words were no indication of her state of mind either. For all I knew, the tears I saw could've been the results of a sneeze. Or a yawn. Uncontrollable laughter .

But something told me she was crying. And I couldn't understand why. One moment she was on stage playing a lot of violin and the next thing I knew she was hugging an old lady filming the concert and bawling in a language, (as aforementioned), I didn't understand. And the band were even good. Worthy recipients of the heart-felt round of applause that had just begun to die down. So I stood there trying to figure out why the two of us who'd been together a moment ago were so far apart now.

Turkish brides leave their family to move in with that of their groom once they've been married. (For the record, this isn't very difficult information for my Indian mind to digest. Nor foreign.)  And Turkey, as many know (unlike me, who embarrassingly found out tonight) is a mountaineous land. So back when transport was not as easy as booking an online ticket for a train, women would often leave their families permanently to go and live in parts of the country only the very rich could afford to visit. Since only the rich could afford horses. Or other animals which bore the travelers weight.

So for some women, getting married could to go to the extent of being the equivalent of permanent farewell to their family.

Such was the case of this girl who the song was written about. An old Turkish folk-song. The one that made the violinist cry.

As it turns out, her parents did manage to get to her eventually, but not before she died of sorrow. She left them a message requesting a wedding closer by for her younger sister.