Whispers Of Yesterday's Promise

On December 5th, 2018, my buddy Vishal and I hit up this amusement park. We found ourselves staring at the Pendulum ride, and let me tell you, the folks getting off looked like they had just survived a tornado – red-faced and shivering. But hey, we're up for anything, right? Vishal was all cool, like this ride was a walk in the park.

So, our turn came. Vishal snagged a spot next to a girl in the front row, leaving me in the back solo. The ride kicked off, and suddenly, the world turned into a crazy blur of noise. But in the middle of all that chaos, I caught a voice – a sweet, reassuring voice. Turns out, it belonged to the most gorgeous girl I'd ever seen up close.

As the Pendulum swung, we were upside down, holding onto each other, screaming our heads off. But Vishal's screams? They were on another level, like he'd just seen a ghost or something.

Then, back to normal for a hot minute before the next drop. My adrenaline was through the roof, and I couldn't tell if it was the crazy ride or the girl holding my hand. The ride wrapped up, and as I stumbled off, my hands were shaking like crazy. The whole thing was a wild mix of thrill from the ride and unexpected sparks flying with the girl next door.

Exiting the Pendulum ride, my mind resembled a whiteboard wiped clean. I strained to reconstruct the chaotic thrill, but all that stuck was the mental snapshot of that face. Turning back in a rush, hoping for another visual fix, I found the maintenance guy practically shoving us away, and Vishal, the epitome of nonchalance, treating it like just another day at the park. Meanwhile, in the vast sea of people, my only mission was playing detective to track down that elusive face.

It played out like a clichéd movie scene – a character appears mysteriously, does something extraordinary, and then disappears. I was well aware I didn't fit the hero mold, the one who confidently pursues and charms the mysterious girl. Instead, I was left grappling with my own insecurity. If I did spot her again, should I go for the classic "act like I didn't even see her" move or awkwardly trail behind like a lost puppy? The internal debate felt like a cringe-worthy script, and I was stuck in my own personal rom-com, uncertain of the next awkward plot twist.

Guess what? Found her! There she is, casually enjoying her blue cotton candy. And now, my brain's like a confused GPS trying to navigate this unexpected encounter. Do I say hi? Pretend I'm a cotton candy expert? Meanwhile, Vishal's on the side, probably ready to drop some "wise" advice, aka his usual irritating antics. Get ready for the comedy show, folks! This is my life now. 

So, there I was this regular guy, facing the big, bad world of college with my buddy Vishal. Now, let me tell you, I'm no superhero – average in studies, sports, looks, you get the picture. College was like entering a whole new universe, and I wasn't sure if I had the right passport.

Then comes Freshers Day, a.k.a. the most insincere event on the planet. I was all set to skip it, cozying up with my Netflix pal, but Vishal, my self-appointed social coach, practically dragged me there.

We roll into this auditorium that looked like it was designed by aliens. I'm eyeing those comfy corner seats, but Vishal, the human magnet for anything with long hair and a smile, decides the center is our spot. Guess who follows? Yours truly, of course.

Speeches start – I swear, they could put a caffeinated puppy to sleep. Two performance groups hit the stage, crowd goes wild, and I'm feeling like a penguin at a talent show for parrots.

Just when I was about to slip into a boredom-induced coma, in walks this girl. Seniors flock to her like bees to honey, and it hits me – she's the amusement park girl! Plot twist alert!

So, there I am, absurdly proud after her performance, imagining impossible scenarios. She's wearing the same bracelet from our amusement park encounter. We're in the girls' section (thanks, Vishal), and I've strategically chosen an empty row. She ends up heading towards the chairs beside me, turning my mundane college life into a sitcom-worthy mix of confusion and sarcasm. 

Now, the moment of truth arrives. I'm juggling different algorithms in my head, contemplating which one to execute.Then, out of the blue, she shoots me a casual glance and drops the bomb: "How's the performance? Everything okay?" Cue my mental system facing a deadlock. It's like my brain crashed, and all I can muster is a robotic nod. Smooth, right?

Here I am, caught in the crossfire of algorithms and small talk, nodding like a malfunctioning robot.She smiles, and honestly, that smile outshines her entire five-minute performance. She goes, "Thank god." And in my head, I'm just like, "Thank god for making her in the first place." 

After reachin home I'm on this mission to find the credentials or so called some info about this "prettiest girl", I'm snooping around the college Facebook page, doing my best detective impression, and boom! There's her pic. Jackpot, right? But sending a friend request seemed too mainstream. I decide to play it cool and dig deeper into her profile.

Plot twist: She's chilling with same mystery guy whom I seen at the amusement park. Cue the heartbreak. I log out like a character in a sad movie, thinking my love story just hit a plot twist.

Fast forward to the cafeteria, where I spot her again, surrounded by friends.Talk about insecurity overload. Then, out of the blue, football enters my life. No clue it was even happening in college, but hey, why not give it a shot?

Teaming up with my buddy Vishal, we approach the football crew, hoping to join the squad. But hold up, the captain throws me a curveball: "Can you kick the ball hard and defend?" 

I was like in my mind :"yup that's what football means",I replied yes.I stumbled into this football team with my buddy Vishal, clueless about the fact that we're gearing up for a match for our college fest i.e which is a schocking news to us, considering we were living under a rock.

On the big day, they hand us jerseys that scream "Argentina knockoff," and being loyal Ronaldo fans, we wear them like we're about to walk the fashion runway. Priorities, right?

The match kicks off, and our forward is a legend. The ball avoids us like it's playing hide and seek, and our goalie? Oh, he's too cool, asking us about our favorite heroes mid-game. Because, you know, small talk is essential during a football match.

Then, the opposing forward decides to make a grand entrance towards our goal. Finally, my time to shine. I give the ball a good kick, and by sheer coincidence (or maybe fate), it reaches our player. Did I plan it? Absolutely not.

Surprise, surprise – this kick-to-player magic happens multiple times. But alas, we end up in penalties, and our laid-back goalie lets three goals slide through. No worries, though. It was a "good game," or so we tell ourselves.

Post-match, this girl again (who I swear was like a football match fairy godmother) comes up and says, "You tried your best, right? So, there's nothing wrong." I'm not sure if she was addressing me or the entire universe, but hey, it made my day. Scratch that – it made my everything.The romantic detective in me is on high alert – is she the one? Is fate playing matchmaker through my football kicks? But, hold up, there's a new character in this saga. Who's this guy that keeps popping up in her pictures?

So, our big football dreams turned into a hilarious fumble. But guess what? I ended up with a cool gang – Koushik, the chill goalie; Varun, the captain with a poker face; and Vivek, the energy ball forward.Koushik and Varun were already buddies(may be that's the reason koushik's in team), and Koushik was a football veteran. I stumbled into the cool kids' circle without even realizing it.

Now, post our not-so-heroic football adventure, Koushik suggests we spice up the college fest. My introverted self is inching towards an escape, but Varun's giving me the look, the kind that says, "You're not getting out of this, buddy."

"I just want to listen," I say, hoping to dodge the fest chaos.Varun's expression? Blank. Maybe he's used to Koushik's wild ideas, or maybe his face just does that naturally. Either way, my plans of fest solitude just got a comical red card. So, Koushik, our resident dreamer, decides to unleash his inner wild fantasies. I'm sitting there, wondering if he's dead serious or just auditioning for a comedy show. The only one clapping along with his excitement is Vivek. Meanwhile, I'm regretting my life choices like, "Why did I ever think joining the football team was a good idea?"

As Koushik's wild brainstorming session continues – or as I like to call it, his attempt to brainwash us into his madness – he drops a bomb. If this whole fest thing actually happens, we get to practice, spy on other performances, and if ours sucks, we can bail. It's like a college fest loophole, and suddenly, I'm feeling like a genius.

Now, why am I telling you all this? Well, in the midst of this chaos, I have a revelation: "Damn, maybe she's a dancer. If she performs, she'll be in the auditorium, right? I can at least sneak a peek." Suddenly, my accidental football detour feels like destiny.

But then, reality hits. Since none of us are dance floor sensations, Koushik suggests this wild concept – mime performance. Yeah, you heard it right – mime. Because nothing says "hilarious and thought-provoking" like pretending to be stuck in an invisible box. Count me out; I'm not ready to audition for the circus just yet.

Reluctantly roped into the mime madness, I'm drowning in homework – concept selection, endless reference videos, and the looming fear of audience judgment. It's like I stumbled into a mime boot camp without a map. Day 1 involves a YouTube mime marathon – some acts are genius, others make me question life's invisible walls. Despite my initial skepticism, I find a weird connection to the mime universe, though the nagging doubt lingers – can I pull this off live?

Cue Koushik, our eternal cheerleader, assuring us that even if we bomb, our makeup will be our superhero mask. So, relax, focus, and find the golden concept, he says. Easy for him to say, I think.As the days go by, I'm starting to warm up to this whole mime thing. Maybe it's not as bad as I thought. Or maybe, I've just spent too much time stuck in the world of invisible boxes. Either way, let's hope my invisible box skills are on point when the big day arrives.So, it turns out, almost every mime performance idea revolves around escaping from an invisible box. Classic, right? But hey, we decide to be the rebels of mime, breaking free from the box stereotype. Now, considering I've been about as expressive as a tree since childhood, this mime thing becomes my personal mission to step out of my comfort zone.As time goes on, we're getting the hang of using our bodies to tell stories. It's like learning the ABCs of mime – figuring out how to show feelings with gestures and avoiding looking like confused penguins. Breaking free from imaginary boxes is becoming kind of fun and helping me be more expressive.

One day, as Vivek and I are lost in our practice routine, Koushik storms in like a man possessed, as if he's stumbled upon some ancient treasure. We halt, worried he might need an exorcism, but instead, he's gasping for air and mumbling something. After some intense calming down, he spills the beans – he played spy and checked out everyone's practice sessions.Then he started saying when I'm checking upon everyroom, A soul-stirring classical melody starts wafting from room FCL-1. I sneak a peek out the window and witness a revelation – this girl, pouring her soul into a performance. She's a symphony of expressions. If this is just her nonchalant run-through in an empty room, imagine the magic she'll unleash under the night lights, draped in costumes and bathed in spotlights. It's a tantalizing preview of the spectacle awaiting the audience.

Suddenly, a hush falls over our gang. Some of us start feeling the pressure, uncertain where we'll stand on the grand day. But deep inside, I'm convinced – she's the one he witnessed. She's destined to be the showstopper, and we're just lucky to be in her orbit.I've never seen Koushik like this before. He's strangely calm, as if he's been hit by a chill-out spell from that girl's performance. Maybe he's still daydreaming about her moves, turning our practice room into his personal dance-themed meditation space. It's like he's on a mental vacation, and we're just here, wondering if he'll come back to reality anytime soon.

As the rehearsal day unfolds, my nerves intensify. We're the 17th act in a lineup of 23, and confidence battles anxiety. The world blurs, and the rhythmic thumping of my heart competes with the buzz of the crowd. Even during a rehearsal, the audience is here, eager to witness our every move.

Koushik takes the lead, his words echoing in my ears. "If we fail, there's no makeup to hide behind. Let's not let that happen we can do this – after all, we're the maestros of turning oops into uproarious applause!" His humorous take on the situation cracks through my tension, and for a moment, I smile. His words become my anchor, steadying me in the sea of uncertainty.

The rehearsal for our performance concludes with a mix of relief and anticipation. Stepping off the stage, I scan the buzzing crowd for her.I catch glimpses of familiar faces, but not hers. Doubt creeps in – did I miss her during the performance, or was she never there? The tension builds as the search continues,is she performing in a later act, or did she choose to sit this one out? The mystery deepens.

Thoughts turn to to is she not the 'mysterious girl' Koushik had mentioned few days earlier,no that should definitely be her.Despite witnessing 16 acts, there's no sign of her. The urge to ask Koushik about the girl becomes a dilemma, fearing it might disrupt the delicate balance of preparation.

After all the performances wrap up for this rehearsal, I realize she's nowhere in sight – not on stage, not in the audience. The satisfaction of a well-executed performance is overshadowed In the quiet aftermath, I realize there's a vulnerability in this longing, a soft yearning for her presence that goes beyond the stage lights. If our paths cross again, if I catch sight of her in the next act, I've made a quiet promise to myself – I won't let the chance to talk slip away. The simplicity of this feeling adds depth to the moment, turning disappointment into a hopeful pause in the story yet to unfolded by the disappointment of her absence.

On this night before the big day, the air is thick with anticipation, and I find myself wrestling with countless thoughts. Hoping for a flawless performance, I attempt to drift into sleep.

Everything turns black and blurry, and I find myself standing among the audience, my face adorned with mime makeup. Tears stream down, reflecting a profound pain etched onto my expression. In the spotlight, a goddess gracefully dances, captivating my gaze.Waking up with a pounding headache, I can't shake off the intense dream. As the big day unfolds, uncertainty clouds my mind about how our performance will go. Nerves kick in, but a newfound determination takes over. 

Today, if I happen to spot her, I've decided to break the silence and start a conversation. Even though destiny stays mysterious, the choice to embrace the unknown fills the unfolding story with a palpable sense of excitement.