We all sit down to eat together. It feels like a picnic. Kabir’s friend Harish is really funny. ‘So, you shop here often?’ he says.
‘Not any more,’ I say. ‘I’m planning to give my loyalty card back.’
‘Maybe they have hostage situation bonus points. For every hour you get a zillion.’
Harish eats like this is his last meal. I understand why. In between hasty bites, he tries to find out everything he can about me.
‘So, are you an only child?’
‘Yes,’ I say.
‘Which college?’ I tell him. Kabir stays silent through our conversation.
‘Hey, I saw you at the last festival,’ he says. ‘That’s why you looked familiar. You were singing!’
‘Yes,’ I say.
‘Hey, you were good!’ he says. ‘You were great. You could have a whole career. Win Indian Idol, you were that good. You came out there and you rocked it!’
I don’t reply. I can’t say a word without crying. His words have suddenly brought back that night in vivid detail. The crowd in front of us throbbing with noise. Me, so nervous that the mike was vibrating in my hand. Then a sudden touch on my shoulder. I knew that touch. It steadied me. Gave me courage. Made me suddenly feel like I was breathing in air and breathing out light.
Aman.
‘Hey,’ says Harish. ‘What is it? What did I say?’