Butterfly Effect 🦋

❥︎𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩 12

Flashback

"Dadda! What's this!" the excited 5 year old shubman's eyes shined as he entered his grandfather's room, filled with all the music instruments.
Shubman looked around in awe, holding his grandfather's hand, who was infact his favourite human being.

"That's a guitar beta" his grandfather gestured, making the little boy sit on his lap as he brought the guitar to him.

Shubman touched it, giggling in excitement.
"I like it!"
Shubman grandfather chuckled pinching the little boy's cheek, "phir to mai apko zaroor sikhaunga"

"Sacchi!"

"Mucchi!"

"Dadda?" 8 years old Shubman asked, holding his new guitar. He had moved in with his grandfather and uncle ever since he was 5, he didn't know the reason though.
Shubman was actually very happy, his dadda was better than his father, the little boy didn't know why the man screamed at him always. It would scare shubman, too bad.

His grandfather would never do that, always love him and be gentle with him.

"Shubman is a very good boy"
Shubman would blush in happiness, that's what he always wanted, the praises his father never told him, not even his mother could say those often.

Shubman's own home felt pretty suffocating, so he liked to sit by the pond of his grandfather's house, the garden, run through verandas with best friend, guitar.

Shubman's grandfather introduced him to music, guitar and the harmonium.
The sargam, morning riwazes fascinated shubman way too much.

Shubman's grandfather could see the passion in his eyes.

"When I will be a big boy, I will become a singer! I will be on stage , you will come to see me right dadda!"

"Of course, mera Shubi bohot bada singer banega ekdin" His grandfather chuckled, patting the boy's head fondly.

Shubman hugged the old man tightly, "dadda, aap mujhe chorke kabhi nahi jaoge na?"

Shubman's father stood silent, hugging the boy back.

Shubman's grandfather passed away the day after, unusual heart attack took shubman's only source of happiness away.

Shubman moved back in with his parents, sneakily bringing the guitar with the pile of memories.

ever since then he is hiding.

Hiding his escape, music.

.

.

.

Shubman picked up his guitar, which layed below his bed.
He brushed his fingers over the surface , through the strings.

Shubman changed his guitar now, his mother secretly saved money to buy him a new one as his first guitar stopped working.

Shubman's mother told him his father wouldn't be home that day, it was Shubman's chance.

A bittersweet smile came on his face,
Kismat.

So he packed the guitar in the bag, grabbed his phone up.