Even though I wasn’t chewing anything, I swallowed hard as I took my nervous little steps towards the center of the stage. As i made my way, I had to put extra caution to my walk and I regretted not paying attention to my mom everytime she asked me to walk like a lady. Nevertheless, I made it to the center stage without much embarrassment. I sat on the chair in front of the mic and looked up. With the spotlight on me and pitch blackness of the crowd and their silence, the view high strung me. The silence flustered me. I couldn’t think straight.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and listened to my thumping heart.
” This is it, Bhargavi. Show them who you are. ” it whispered to me.
And that was it. One voice was all i needed to retrieve my lost aplomb, my heart’s.
I heard the soft music the guitar strings made. A welcome noise in the otherwise dead air.
I picked up the beat and did what I came for. Did what I’ve been doing all my life and would keep doing for the rest of it. I sang. I sang with all my heart, all my passion, with all that I had within.
Once done, the music stopped and with that my world. The lights were turned on, spotlight gone, I could see an endless ocean of crowd standing and applauding. All for me, for my voice, for my talent. That moment of self satisfaction, that moment of my dreams coming true, that moment of enagmatic delight, was all that counted. That moment was all that mattered. That moment was what I lived for.
I looked to my left and saw my parents. A total misfit with the crew backstage. So being their Indian self, striking with bliss. I’ve never seen my parents more proud of me, not even when I agreed to be a doctor. I’ve never seen them cry for me, not even when I broke their hearts.
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