Chapter 2: Feedback

The Dr. Jirgey auditorium of Basaveshwara Academy of Higher Education & Research was still buzzing long after the performances had ended. Students crowded near the stage barricades while volunteers struggled to clear cables and equipment. Somewhere in the back, the physiotherapy & ayurveda college students had already begun chanting their own  respective slogans despite not having won anything yet.

• “Bhai, if Medical doesn’t win this, judges are blind,” someone shouted confidently.
• “Obviously yaar! Scintillating Euphoria killed it.”

Near the backstage corridor, one of the band members was replaying snippets from their performance on his phone while the others crowded around laughing.

• “Look at the crowd during the drop!”
• “Arrey… Pause kar! Pause kar! — look at Utsav’s hair flying!”
• “Total rockstar, bro!”

Utsav sat sprawled lazily over a plastic chair, towel around his neck, still flushed from the stage lights. Niyati stood beside him sipping cold coffee. The rest of the band members were back by then after a couple of shots, from hidden liquor bottles in their car, parked outside the campus

“You’re enjoying this too much,” Niyati smirked. “We deserve it!” winked Utsav. “Oh absolutely. Your ego especially,” her eyes lifted with sarcasm. Utsav grinned shamelessly, “Best performance of the night.” “Well… that,” she corrected, “I agree with.”

The anchor’s announcement in a sing-song tone rang through the auditorium – “ALL PARTICIPANTS ARE REQUESTED ON STAGE FOR THE RESULTS!”

The crowd roared again as one of the juniors nudged Utsav excitedly, “Bro get ready, trophy pics incoming.” Another one laughed, “Already deciding Instagram captions!”

Utsav stood, stretching his shoulders casually before climbing onto stage with the rest of the band.

Across the stage, Kuldeep stood quietly beside Aditya, hands folded behind his back. He looked calmer than he felt. The lights no longer seemed blinding now. Just a little exhausting, maybe. The judges shuffled papers at the centre table while the audience continued murmuring predictions loudly enough for everyone to hear.

• “Medical College pakka.”
• “Band wins hands down.”
• “No competition.”

Kuldeep stared absently toward the curtains. Maybe they were right. Honestly, even he had expected the band to win.

The anchor adjusted the microphone dramatically, “And now… the results for the Basaveshwara Intercollege Music Competition… The second runner up goes to…. Basaveshwara College of PHYSIOTHERAPY – PHYSIOTUNES”

A polite applause filled the auditorium. Physiotherapy students started cheering up as the participants were handed over their trophy.

“And the FIRST RUNNER UP…” a deliberate pause… “Basaveshwara College of Medical Science and Research – SCINTILLATING EUPHORIA!”

For two seconds the auditorium froze. There was a confused silence… and then explosive screaming. It was a mix of joy overpowered by surprise.

• “What?!”
• “No way!”
• “Are you serious!”
• “Bhai jeeta kaun fir?”

The band itself looked stunned before immediately erupting into celebration anyway.

“BROOOOO! WE STILL PODIUMED!” Utsav screamed.

Someone nearly tackled the drummer to the floor. Another band member grabbed Utsav around the shoulders while the audience screamed his name again, “UTSAV! SPEECH!”

Niyati laughed helplessly as two of the boys actually lifted him off the ground.

“Put me down, idiots!” Utsav screamed, half annoyed, half enjoying the attention, while Niyati kept giggling.

But suddenly there were also the buzzing voices of the medical college students around them – “We were robbed, we deserved the first place!” “MEDICAL COLLEGE STILL RULES!”

Meanwhile, the anchor continued shouting over the noise, “And the winner for today’s music competition is…  Basaveshwara College of Dental Science & Research!”

Kuldeep barely looked up… Aditya blinked first… and then turned sharply. “Dude! We… won?”

Kuldeep stared blankly for a couple of seconds and then walked over to the Judges to take his trophy. Dental college cheered “Dental! Dental! Dental!”

The trophy was placed into Kuldeep’s hands. Aditya stood next to him, as a co-participant and winner, but carefully allowed Kuldeep all the limelight.

The applause was respectable. Not explosive or feverish, but steady.

The chief judge, a man in grey hair, from the Basaveshwara College of Music and Fine Arts smiled while shaking his hand, “Excellent control over your transitions. And your voice had remarkable restraint. It is not everyday that we get to hear such a beautiful rendition of a Ustad Rashid Khan’s song.”

Kuldeep nodded politely with folded hands out of respect, “Thank you, sir.” Aditya stood next to them as a part of the winning college and a constant support and anchor for his dear senior. Slowly they moved backstage, as the anchor took over with the concluding speeches from the judges.

Behind him the band was still celebrating like they had won the World Cup. Aditya burst out laughing suddenly. “I swear to God,” he whispered, “I have never seen second place being celebrated this hard.”

Kuldeep snorted unexpectedly. A genuine laugh escaped him before he could stop it. And unfortunately — the band heard it. Utsav looked up immediately. The atmosphere shifted.

Something was not light anymore. A dense seriousness clouded the vibe. The grin faded from his face almost instantly. He disentangled himself from his bandmates and walked toward them slowly, tall, sweaty, jaw tight… The rest of the band followed behind him instinctively.

Aditya muttered under his breath – “…oh fantastic.”

Utsav stopped directly in front of Kuldeep, “So,” he said coolly, “does Dental College not have enough musicians to form an actual band?” Sarcasm dripped from every word.

Aditya rolled his eyes instantly. But Kuldeep’s expression hardened, “No,” he replied evenly. “But apparently we have singers good enough to win trophies.”

A few nearby students went silent immediately. Utsav’s eyes narrowed as he said, “Trophies don’t decide good music.” He gestured vaguely toward the cheering audience. “The crowd does.”

Kuldeep gave out a short laugh of dismissal, “Sure. A crowd of screaming hooligans is obviously more qualified to judge music than trained experts from the music college.”

The smile vanished from Utsav’s face completely.

• “You calling the audience stupid?”
• “I’m calling them untrained.”
• “Same thing.”
• “No,” Kuldeep said calmly. “Not really.”

The tension thickened instantly. One of the band members stepped forward, “Abey leave it bro.”

But another muttered louder, “Sadboi songs gaa ke classical singer ban raha hai.”

A third scoffed openly, “Ye sab hum log nahi gaate.”

Then someone from the band laughed “Chhod na bro… dental wale chakke hai!”

The world inside Kuldeep’s head went silent… not metaphorically, actually silent!

Like somebody had abruptly cut the sound from the auditorium. His fingers tightened around the trophy, his heartbeat climbed straight into his throat, he could feel the blood pump into his temples and throb. Somewhere far away somebody laughed.

Somebody said, “Arre chill yaar—”

But he was no longer fully there. Years of his teenage life collapsed inward suddenly. School corridors… mocking voices… the way boys imitated his gestures. All the bullying, being called out – homo, chakka, gay, ladki… 

For years, he had built walls against those voices—the constant chatter that seemed to follow him wherever he went. Gradually, he became conscious of everything –  the movement of his wrists while speaking, the pitch of his voice, the way he walked… his entire existence.

He learned to edit himself… to fit in!

And yet, even now, after all these years — the word still landed like a slap.

Before he realized it, he had stepped forward.

“Chakka kisko bola be?” His voice shook. Not with fear, but with rage… maybe even humiliation!

The band member looked startled as Kuldeep stepped closer again – “Chakka kisko bola?”

Aditya immediately grabbed his arm, “Sir. Sir leave it.”

Kuldeep barely heard him. His ears were throbbing violently.

Utsav looked stunned too now, as if even he hadn’t expected things to escalate like this. But ego had already poisoned the room.

Another boy laughed awkwardly trying to diffuse things, “Arre bhai joke tha—”

“It wasn’t funny, you rascal!” Kuldeep snapped.

The silence around them deepened. Aditya tugged him harder now, “Sir chaliye yaha se.”

Kuldeep kept staring at them, breathing hard. His head felt like it would explode. His palms were sweaty and slick, as he grasped the trophy harder. Humiliation burned hotter than anger, and of course he hated this feeling… Hated that one stupid word could still reduce him to the terrified queer child he thought he had outgrown.

“Leave it,” Aditya whispered again quietly. “No point talking to them.”

One of the band members muttered defensively, “Haan toh ja na phir.”

Another waved dismissively, “Drama kar raha hai.”

Aditya finally managed to pull Kuldeep away. The trophy felt unbearably heavy in his hands now. Behind him, the band still stood clustered together.

But Utsav wasn’t speaking anymore. For the first time since they had met, he wasn’t looking at Kuldeep as a rival. He was looking at him as a person.

And somehow, that felt worse…

…to be continued