Chapter 1 : Reverb
The plush Dr. C. S. Jirgey auditorium trembled with noise. A thousand college students packed into the seats, stairways, aisles, and even near the exits where cultural committee members and fest committee volunteers had long given up trying to control the crowd. It was the largest indoor auditorium in the cosy city of Belagavi, in North Karnataka, housed inside the premises of the Basaveshwara Academy of Higher Education & Research (BAHER). Flashlights flickered like restless fireflies in the dark. The air smelled of sweat, cheap perfume, stage smoke, and overheated amplifiers.
“MEDICOOOOOOS….” a deafening roar erupted from the left wing of the auditorium.
“UTSAV! UTSAV! UTSAV!”
Kuldeep Mukherjee winced slightly backstage.
“God,” muttered the guitarist beside him, peeking through the curtain. “Your competition has fan clubs.”
Kuldeep adjusted the silver ring on his finger and exhaled slowly, “Sure… Looks more like a political rally than a music competition.”
Aditya Vaid, his junior from final year BDS and the accompanying guitarist laughed nervously.
“You’re not scared, right?”
Kuldeep looked toward the stage lights spilling through the curtains — “Scared? No… Anxious? A little maybe… Regretful? possibly a lot!”
The anchor’s voice boomed through the auditorium. “And nowwwww… the winners of last year’s Battle of Bands… from Basaveshwara College of Medical Science…”
The crowd had already started screaming before the name came…
“SCINTILLATING EUPHORIA!”
The lights flooded the stage. Drumrolls…Bass… Keyboard…
And the opening keyboard and guitar riff of “Madaari” slowly floated in and kept getting louder through the auditorium as the crowd went feral.
By the third loop, the crowd went louder… Like that was even a possibility!
Utsav Ghosh the medical intern walked into the centre spotlight strumming his guitar like he belonged there. Tall, broad-shouldered, with curls that looked deliberately untamed. A black waistcoat hanging open over bare skin, slightly sweaty from the backstage humidity and the heat of the stage lights, glittering letters stitched across the back — SCINTILLATING EUPHORIA.
Bracelets clinked against the neck of his guitar as he adjusted the strap lazily, chewing gum like the entire auditorium wasn’t losing its mind over him.
“THAT’S HIM!” a girl near backstage squealed.
“Oh my God, yesterday’s showstopper!”
“Dammnnn! He’s so hot it’s actually unfair.”
Kuldeep looked up despite himself and recognized him instantly. The same guy from the fashion show the previous evening — walking the ramp shirtless showing off what appeared to be a quick push up pump with glitter and body paint with absurd confidence while girls nearly climbed over seats to record him. Niyati from Medical College had walked beside him, elegant and sharp in a silver off shoulder high slit gown.
But on stage, he looked different… Much less polished… But way more alive!
Utsav took the mic and started the vocals…
Students jumped to their feet screaming lyrics. Someone started waving a department flag. Mobile flashlights bounced wildly in the darkness.
Utsav sang like someone who understood crowds instinctively. Not technically perfect, but… magnetic! He moved constantly — hair falling over his forehead, veins sharp against his forearms, sweat glistening under amber lights.
As the time for the second stanza came, Niyati, their female vocalist, sashayed her way with a cordless mic and joined in…
The guitars intensified. Drums shook the floor beneath Kuldeep’s shoes.
“This is exactly why I hate college bands,” he muttered quietly. Aditya smirked beside him and said, “You hate them because they’re louder than your alaaps.”
Kuldeep gave him a look. “I hate them because nobody listens anymore. Everything has to be noise.”
But even as he said it, his eyes drifted back toward the stage. Towards Utsav…
There was something strangely effortless about him. There were rough edges in his technique, but he wasn’t untrained. It was more instinctive. As if he performed before he even thought. And people loved him for it.
The song ended in chaos. Students screamed so loudly the microphone squealed with feedback.
– “WE LOVE YOU UTSAV!”
– “ONCE MORE!”
– “MEDICOOOOS ROCK!”
The band laughed breathlessly while bowing dramatically. Utsav wiped sweat from his jaw with the back of his hand and grinned into the lights. For a second, the entire auditorium felt like it belonged to him. Then they walked offstage.
The backstage corridor immediately flooded with students… Mostly girls.
– “UTSAV ONE SELFIE PLEASE!”
– “You were insane!”
– “Oh my God your solo—”
Someone shoved a water bottle into his hand. Another grabbed his wrist excitedly.
“Bro,” one of the band members laughed, “your fanbase is actually terrifying.”
Utsav smirked – “Occupational hazard.”
And then, while brushing through the crowd, he passed Kuldeep. Shoulder against shoulder for barely a second. But Kuldeep caught – musky cologne, sweat, hair gel maybe and something warm beneath it.
Utsav didn’t even look properly at him. Just a distracted: “Sorry, boss.” And he was gone again into the noise.
Kuldeep stared after him for half a second longer than necessary.
“Earth to Mukherjee,” Aditya whispered. “You’re next.”
“Hmm.” His stomach tightened instantly.
This wasn’t Dental College anymore. Back there, the audience knew him. Professors adored him. His semi-classical performances had become a sort of departmental pride. Smaller auditorium with familiar and supportive faces. People willing to sit quietly through slower music, that deserved respect rather than a howling cheer.
This crowd? This crowd wanted adrenaline!
Not raags or restraint… Not pitch perfection, but performance! Not someone standing still with a microphone.
The emcee’s voice echoed again, “And now representing Basaveshwara Dental College…”
Scattered applause.
“…Kuldeep Mukherjee and Aditya Vaid”
Much quieter applause. A few dental college students and Kuldeep’s fellow interns shouting, “Dental! Dental! Dental!”
Kuldeep closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath to focus on himself away from the lights and chaos of the audience. He adjusted the mic stand once before stepping onto stage.
The audience was still buzzing from the previous performance. Conversations continued across rows. Someone shouted for the band to come back.
A group near the back groaned dramatically seeing only: one lanky singer, one guitarist, two stools – “Arre yaar, depression music shuru.”
A few students laughed. Kuldeep ignored them.
Aditya leaned toward him quietly while tuning the guitar one final time, “You okay?”
Kuldeep nodded once. “Sound check!” He tapped the microphone gently.
“Check… check.” The echoes dissolved into chatter again.
His fingers tightened around the mic. Maybe this was a mistake! Maybe college festivals were not spaces for softness. Maybe he should’ve chosen a track that would be something louder or simpler…
Then he remembered something his father and music teacher once told him: “If your voice is honest enough, silence will come looking for you.”
Kuldeep inhaled slowly.
And began with the intro alaap of his Bollywood medley. Full throated, pitch perfect, wholesome…
The effect was immediate. The noise didn’t stop all at once. It dissolved… One row at a time… Until suddenly the auditorium was listening… Actually listening!
Backstage, Utsav looked up from the bottle of water in his hand. The voice floated through the curtains again.
Soft yet bold; like a yearning for love, for surrender… Controlled in a way completely opposite to his own singing!
He frowned unconsciously, “Who the hell was that?”
On stage, Kuldeep continued – “Aaoge jab tum o saajna…”
The melody spread through the auditorium like rainwater… No drama, no performance tricks no jumping or screaming… Just soft strings of Aditya there to not let his voice feel lonely!
And somehow that made it impossible to ignore.
Students slowly lifted their phone flashlights up again. But this time gently… like candles…
Even the judges leaned forward, almost mesmerised!
Kuldeep’s eyes remained closed through most of the song, as though he was singing somewhere far away from the auditorium entirely. His voice seemed like it came not from the throat, but from a pain in his heart!
Then seamlessly he shifted to the next song in his medley, not from the top, from the second stanza — “Tu hoga zaraa paagal, tune mujhko hai chuna…”
Soft applause rose with the rhythm. The audience that had mocked him minutes ago now clapped along carefully, almost protectively.
Backstage, Utsav had unconsciously walked closer to the wings.
One of his bandmates nudged him, “Oi. Romeo. We’re leaving…” gesturing him that they are going outside the auditorium for drinks.
“Yeah… you guys go.”
His friend blinked, “You staying back for classical sadboi music?”
Utsav didn’t answer, just shoved his bandmate off with a casual wave of the hand. He kept staring at the stage, as Kuldeep shifted back to the first song in the medley effortlessly and kept singing. He sang as if the applause didn’t matter.
And Utsav kept staring, at the boy under amber lights singing like heartbreak had weight, had rhythm, had… Music!
And for the first time that evening — Utsav Ghosh stood completely still…
to be continued…
