Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Flash Fiction : Synthesize

"You are going onstage after this, to assist him" Rehana said to me as I moved to assist him carrying the synthesizer. I was ready. The evening meant two hundred rupees.

I was having that piece of newspaper in my hand. I remembered daddy.

We went on the stage. His presence made the crowd go mad. I was following him and had recieved the delayed cheer meant for him. They stood up on their legs, waved, fell for him, girls had his name tatooed everywhere, boys were dressed like him. It was a rock-star hysteria. The man had to start with a remix, I tuned my synthesizer to sound like sehanai. The tune played, the crowd Jhoomed, the smoke flew, the day faded.

I got my 200. I kept it along with the newspaper before I went to sleep.

The lines of the 7th page top left corner news read "Another Sehnai Maestro dead in the darkness of poverty"

Dad was amused I remember at the synthesizer "Ab to Sehnai bajane ke lie sehnai ki jaroorat nahi hoti."

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