Applause

The auditorium was full. He was standing by a pillar backstage. He was jittery but was putting on a calm face. This was his first public appearance. His first stint with a live audience. Majority of people in the audience were teenagers, some accompanied by their relatives. He was going to perform "Hotel California" by eagles. There were supposed to be three guitarists. Two acoustic, including himself and one electric guitar. They also had one drummer. Matter of factly, they were all novices. They had come this far and he was more than aware of the cynicism in a lot of eyes. The only anchor he had was he himself. The band was also having strained relationship for the past month. They were not prepared for the event but somehow found themselves backstage due to a string of events with them in the middle. His throat was dry. His ears lobes were on fire. He was wearing a plain white formal shirt with denim and an old pair of sneakers. His six string was lying besides him. He loved his six string. He had bought it after two months of conscience saving, which meant no movies, no pubs, lesser cigarettes. ad nauseum. The sound of the competing vocalist was in a distant background and he was too much lost in his own chain of thoughts. His mind was wafting in a turbulent stream of thoughts. Like an orphan leaf in angry waters he just let his mind wander. He was the last act of the event. He still had the memory of the first time he had picked up the six string. He had been hooked on to slow metal, grunge, classic rock and country from his teens. Whenever he went to a concert with his friends he would stand in the front and play his invisible guitar with his nimble fingers to an invisible audience. The memory of each concert lingered for a month and then was replaced with a new memory of a new concert. Music was the only thing that he felt for. He had a song for every moment. He would sing in his head all day. Being an introvert and reserved guy, music was the only true friend he had ever known. During college he bought his first guitar as here he was all-alone, away from the scrutinizing eyes of his parents. He used to download the chords from internet and would go back to his room with a sheaf of chords. He would then painstakingly try to play them. But without any formal training, the music just didn't came that easy. Earlier it used to sound horrible, but he never let it go. He kept at it and then one day a fellow room mate finally said" Why don't you play, what you just played!" He had got rhythm! He was more than willing to play in front of his first fan. Then he approached a few guys who had mastered the act. He urged them to take him in their band. Band was a little skeptical in letting in a complete novice. But seeing his enthusiasm they finally yielded and he got the role of background strummer. A substitute. An extra. He would sit through all the sessions and keenly observe and take it all in. The band was predominantly a local act and played mostly soulful romantic hindi numbers. He slowly talked them into experimenting with western genre. Although hesitant, they gave it a try. Though the vocalist was damn good with hindi numbers, somehow his voice could not shriek, it could not grunge and was inherently not western. He would hum alongside the lead vocalist and gradually started overshadowing him. By this time he had got a few supporters within the band and hence he started his very own band. THE MOKSHA. He was the lead vocalist and handled rhythm. Band would practice after college and would keep at it till late in the night. Somehow he never got tired. And then came his big moment, a national level western music competition. They rehearsed and rehearsed till their fingers hurt(sometimes bled). Being an autonomous band, they had little financial backing and hence they pooled in money, emptied their coffers and bought gibson strings, stranger distortions, good pair of sibels and other paraphernalia. Moksha was all set for their first professional competition. The compere announced the name of the band and he like a zombie walked on to the stage. The lights were blinding. He could not see anything. The band settled themselves on the stage. He took a deep sigh, smiled at his fellow band members and whispered in the mike." Hi! this is Moksha. We r gonna play hotel california, by eagles for you. Hope you like it. Thank You." The mike chortled a little bit. He adjusted his guitar sling. A nod to fellow guitarists and they unleashed. He had his eyes closed during the most time and opened it completely only in the last part where the vocalist fades away and the electric and the acoustic guitars move on into a soulful jamming session. His heart was pounding with every riff on the six string. At last, as they had practised for so many times, they reached a crescendo and then stopped, all at once, the last strum on electric guitar, the last strum on the acoustic and the last hit on the sibble and they stopped in tandem. There was a dead silence and then an uproar, an applause. He bowed down and said "Thank You. Thank you so very much." He came down and was in a sea of people. Some saying” good job, dude" "nice" "beautiful". He just smiled. He was shivering from inside. He just wanted to disappear. He came out of the auditorium and came out of the college campus. He sat on a bench at a local teashop and lit his cigarette. He had an "orgasmic feeling" at the time of applause and he was still breathing heavily. He gave himself time to calm down. Now he could not muster enough courage to go back and see what the jury had decided. A part of him was not even interested in the jury as he was his own jury. And his jury was happy to put it euphemistically. But he had to go. And so he did go inside. The results were still not out. He caught up with the band and they sprawled in the lawn. There were huge screens erected in the lawns and were giving live update of all the events. The band was happy and no one said anything. Some were eating and some were drinking. Suddenly the results were being announced. The second runner up, they weren't there. Everyone looked at each other; each had a peculiar expression hanging on his face. The second runner up- they weren't there. And the winner-it was them, it was he.