Love? A Disaster

♪ 14. Crescendo ♪

The air inside Berklee's performance center was charged that particular day. The audience sat filled with anticipation. The ensemble music show was ongoing. The theme for this year was fusion. The combinations coming so far were not only hard-hitting but innovative also. It was the second last performance from the ensemble, a mixture of western and eastern sounds, adding flavor and diversity to something crafted with precision and beauty. The members were on stage, taking their positions. The audience was attuned to every movement, waiting for the magic to flow, casting a spell just like last year.

It began. Piercing the static, the first echo of the flute wrapped everything in its grasp. There was a pregnant silence when it finished which was only broken by the haunting cadence of the violin. It flew in circles, round and round, invisible but reaching where it was supposed to. Then it was a crescendo. Sarod, suona, dizi, guitar, oud, trumpet, keyboard, bass, saxophone, tabla, cello, harp, mridangam, drums

And piano.

The melody became silent for a beat, its fading reverberations still infusing the air when the first piano note sounded. And it stayed. The spotlight focused on him, creating a halo.

His fingers moved, up and down, never leaving the pristine shiny surface, playing with the instrument as if it was his own extension, something he didn't consider external. Every instrument was silent for this solo. Every person sat mesmerized. A hypnotizing enchantment. And suddenly everything was in motion, for him it was. The music notes weren't imaginary; they were around him, the melody not just around but inside him as well.

And then, one by one, all other sounds joined him, creating an amalgamation so distinct in its reality but concurrent in its effect.

A crescendo.

His fingers stopped and so did everyone else's movements. The hall bathed in silence, the echoes receding as if their work was done.

There was applause. Uproarious. Deafening.

He looked up from his instrument and stood, joined by his teammates. They all accepted the accolades with smiles and gratitude. But him more so than anyone.

It was his composition; the speakers announced and it wasn't like anyone needed this reminder. Complex yet beautiful; that was his trademark. The audience again broke into applause louder than before. His eyes darted around them, lingering on his proud family and then at the person sitting right next to them.

His eyes showed pleasant elation as he gestured at the person whose claps were the loudest. The guy returned his grin but didn't stop his movements making him shake his head, as he turned and focused on his team.

For everyone, it was a wholesome exchange between young guys. But if someone looked into the applauding man's eyes at that instant, the naked envy wouldn't be that hard to miss.

𝄞

Finding Aahil Jahangir visibly agitated and distressed wasn't something Sila had remotely envisioned for this day. But it happened.

It wasn't a pretty sight. Not by any means.

She was shocked when he looked up at her with his red-rimmed eyes. A silent plea. It didn't even register with him. He needed to be held and told it was okay.

So, that's what she did. Holding him close, trying to make it better for him. Caressing his nape, whispering words to him, words that held nothing but assurance.

Questions plagued Sila's mind. Seeing him like this was unexpected. What could've happened? He was fine half an hour back. What reduced him to this?