‘Next?’ I murmur, evidently irritated.
It has been a bad day, mum shouting over the phone in the morning, the mess not delivering my breakfast dabba and now these stupid auditions for the farewell of twelfth-ers from the school. I am tired; and the next guy on the list is rather late. I presume he’s absent.
‘Shekhar Jha?’ I call again trying to confirm his absence.
I look up from my list and he is on the stage. A tall lanky guy, clumsily holding his guitar, he is perfect picture of a mess. And as he strings the first cord on the guitar, I strike his name off the list. I am not going to let such a dumb person perform at the farewell. He is self conscious and nervous, and I’m half in mind to bark him out of the stage, but I let him fiddle with his guitar as I grab a bite from a sandwich borrowed from a classmate. I’m hungry.
‘Chura lia hai tumne jo dil ko’
His voice startles me. It is bearable, and I almost like it. I put a thumb up and call for the next candidate. I put a tick against his name. He nervously gets down the stage; half hesitant and takes his seat in the audience. I wonder whether I should give such a chicken heart a chance. The next performance is on and eventually, I get so engrossed that I forget all about him.
I’ve to shortlist fifteen people out of some fifty enthusiastic eleventh-ers ready to perform for their seniors and I’ve a hard time deciding. All of them happen to be my classmates and to hold power over them isn’t my cup of tea. I come up with a list of twenty two people and put it up on the notice board. They have to face Sinha sir now for the final short listing. As I collect my things, I realize it is almost 5.30 in the evening and the whole school is empty except the participants and a few teachers.
I stroll out towards the gates cringing as the prospect of taking an auto to hostel. It would cost me sixty rupees and to be honest, I am in no mood to spend so much. I have limited pocket money and missing the school bus was not feasible. I curse myself and stand there as the participants come out. Shreya casts a dirty glance at me; apparently because her name is not on the list. I feel sorry for her but before I could cook up something feasible to explain to her, she is off on her scooty. I assume I’ve lost yet another friend.
‘Yoo toh sapne hazaro.....’
My phone rings. I look up from my diary. I shut my diary and receive it. It’s the same voice, signing ‘Happy birthday to you’. I glance at the clock and realise it already midnight. I smile and wonder in awe how time flies by. It has been five years since the day I met him. And today his voice is my ringtone. The voice of a rockstar.
Who knew that one little chance would change his life forever? Make him value himself?
The call gets disconnected. I glance at the notification. It says :
Call from BRO at 12.01 am
Duration: 1min 03 seconds
I smile. The phone rings again. It's him, the tall lanky guy with the guitar. Now, my brother. My life.
