When Only Love Remains
Page 24
The crowd asks for an encore and the vocalist sings it again.
‘When did you first hear it?’ asks a boy in the crowd, not expecting a reply.
Avanti who is re-tuning her guitar to go into the next song, stops midway and answers the questions. ‘I was twelve when I first heard the song. It was on his page. Devrat recorded it on his ancient phone and uploaded it. He stopped twice in the middle and said, “Screw it, let’s go again” but never did and uploaded the video with its mistakes. I made a lot of my girlfriends hear it but no one really liked it that much. They were into silly white women singing about break-ups. But there was this one female teacher who heard it in class and really liked it! So much so she asked me to send her the list. But then I got jealous and I didn’t send it!’
The crowd bursts out laughing at this. The vocalist laughs, too. ‘Silly girl,’ he mutters.
‘But then when Devrat wrote the song, he was in love with a girl who dumped him. She wasn’t even pretty or anything. Devrat was way out of her league. But good for me!’
There are giggles all around the room.
And they go on to the next song. And the next. The vocalist screws up almost every song and Avanti’s a little pissed at him.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ Avanti whispers into his ears, mid-way through the performance a few times.
‘I don’t remember some of the stuff,’ answers the vocalist.
‘Pay attention!’
There’s always someone who wants to know the history of the song. And there were always two versions of the history. One was from Devrat’s side and one from Avanti’s side. They are as interested in the story as they are interested in the songs.
Avanti tells them the stories behind all the songs Devrat composed just for Avanti. There are boys who put their arms around their girlfriends, suddenly feeling the love in the room, and there are girls who are now choking on their own words. There are more than eighty pairs of eyes stuck on Avanti, hanging on to every word Avanti utters, trying to not break down into little tears.
By the time they are done performing the eighteen songs she had prepared, each of them screwed irreversibly by the vocalist, who couldn’t sing them as well as they were first sung by Devrat, the crowd has left everything and is engrossed in Avanti and Devrat’s story.
The girls have their mouths covered and are openly crying, and the boys are repeatedly telling them that they love them. It’s been one and half hours and no one has left the restaurant. Not only are the songs repeated, the story is too. The ones who have come in late are being filled up by the people in adjacent tables. ‘Devrat was in the hospital for eight months and she didn’t leave the hospital for eight months,’ the crying girls would whisper to the others coming inside. And then they would have tears in their eyes as well.
The crowd has swelled up to a hundred by the time she’s finished. And while she’s walking off the stage, the crowd gets up on its feet and applauds the performance. Avanti looks back once, bows to the crowd, and she walks off the stage. The vocalist is swarmed by girls and they are getting pictures clicked with him.
Avanti’s pissed. The girls don’t even know how good the original songs were. The vocalist just screwed them. And look how he’s enjoying the company of girls throwing themselves on him! Sitting there, basking in all the attentions! Asshole.
‘How did I do?’ asks Avanti.
‘Are you being sarcastic right now? You were awesome! There were people taking videos, Avanti. This band is so going viral! And you have the perfect manager to take care of that.’
‘I don’t think so. The vocalist is such an ass. Look how he’s getting clicked with all those girls. Just sitting there smiling with his big eyes. I’m not touring with him.’
‘Shut up, Avanti. The first thing Devrat told me was that you love to travel! This is your chance. Not only do you get to travel, you get to tell your story to everyone. This is awesome. You can’t let go of it!’ says Sumit.
‘I will think about it,’ says Avanti. ‘Can we go now?’
‘Devrat’s parents are here,’ answers Sumit.
‘Oh! Where are they?’
‘They were listening to your band.’
‘You’re kidding me!’ says Avanti. ‘That’s so embarrassing!’
‘Shut up. You guys were great.’
Sumit leads Avanti to where Devrat’s parents are sitting. As she makes her way to their table, there are slow claps all around and there are people telling her that she was awesome and they would love to listen to her again. She nods and mutters ‘thank you’ as she makes her way towards their table.
She hugs Devrat’s parents who are in tears.
‘You were great,’ they tell her. Devrat’s mother runs her fingers over her face and tells her that she looks beautiful.
Avanti nods. ‘How was it?’ Avanti asks her father who’s there, too.
‘I think you found what you really want to do in life,’ says Avanti’s father and hugs her. Avanti pulls up a chair and sits near her father. She hears a tapping sound. She looks to her right and a touchscreen is glowing.
‘YOU. WERE. AWESOME,’ says the vocalist who joins them at the table.
‘Shut up. You go and get clicked with those girls.’
‘Are you jealous?’ asks the vocalist.
‘Yes, you weren’t even that good. Your voice is like one of a toad,’ snaps Avanti. ‘Go, go, to those girls.’
‘I would have, but I’m a little tired.’
Panic takes over Avanti’s face. ‘Oh? Do you need anything?’
‘No,’ says Devrat and smiles.
‘You shit. You scared me,’ says Avanti and then hugs him.
Devrat’s sitting in his elaborate wheelchair, all the equipment tucked beneath the seating cushion. Avanti’s father worked with Chautala’s team to make this chair and it allows Devrat to move around and not be stuck in a bed. Devrat’s still paralysed but he can talk and he can sing for a few minutes at least.
‘Do you think I really screwed those songs?’ asks Devrat.
‘A little bit,’ says Avanti. ‘But you’re getting better. So that’s okay.’ She slips her hand around his arm and keeps her head on his shoulder.
‘And actually, I should be the angry one. Today is the first-year anniversary of when you almost killed me. I could have been dead you know.’
‘I would have never killed you. I could have never killed you.’
‘But you made me believe so. Why would you do so? Why would you make me believe that I was going to die!’
‘There was no other way to make you stay.’
‘Grrrrr!
‘I had to do it. It was Mr Chautala who gave me the idea and he gave me the idea of using the anaesthetic on you. He told me it was the only option to make you want to live! And it worked. You were not going to die. You were going to be asleep for a day. But you thought you were going to die! You have to admit that it was brilliant!’
‘That it was. If you had killed me, my decision would have been the biggest regret of my dead life.’
Avanti smiles, thinking of the time she made Devrat believe that she had actually given up on him and she would help him die. She made Devrat believe that he had actually died. Everyone in the hospital said it was a big gamble but it paid off. But Avanti knew it wasn’t a gamble. She knew Devrat would come around and decide to spend the rest of his life, in whichever condition, with her.
‘I have something for you.’
‘What?’ asks Avanti.
‘Get your face closer.’
Avanti frowns and gingerly bends over.
Devrat brings his hand up and brushes it briefly against his face before it flops down on his lap again. She looks at her father and Devrat’s parents and they are smiling. They know!
‘Do it again,’ says Avanti.
&nb
sp; Devrat tries again and he lifts his hand halfway before it drops again on his lap. ‘Do it again,’ screams Avanti, crying.
‘Okay. Chill.’
‘What are you doing, Devrat! You can move! You can move! Oh my God. And you knew?’ she looks at her father. ‘Why didn’t anyone tell me? Can you feel me?’ She puts her hand on Devrat’s hand and asks him, ‘Can you feel my touch?’
Devrat says, ‘Yes.’
‘Screw you, Devrat! Why didn’t you tell me?’
She lunges forward and hugs him.
He mutters, ‘You’re not the only one with tricks up your sleeve.’
‘Shut up.’
‘You shut up.’
‘Do it again,’ says Avanti.
‘Shut up.’
‘No, seriously. Touch me again.’
‘Shut up.’
‘No, seriously.’
‘Avanti? You need to stop talking. Has someone ever told you that you talk a lot?’
‘Sometimes. But it’s always—’
‘Shut up.’
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THE BEGINNING
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PENGUIN METRO READS
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First published in Penguin Metro Reads by Penguin Books India 2014
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Copyright © Durjoy Datta 2014
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN 978-0-143-42297-6
This digital edition published in 2014.
eISBN 978-9-351-18722-6
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