Chartbuster

Shikha dialed her sister's number. "Divi! I have finally done it!"

"Really?" Divya was impossibly happy for her sister. "With whom? How much did they pay?"

"I'll text you everything. Don't tell Ma-Papa anything now. Let it remain a surprise, Divi." 

"Cool! But remember what you had promised? With your first salary..."

"Yes Divi, I do. You will get it. Now bye, bye." Shikha looked out of her one-room apartment window. It was there. The cuckoo. It was one of those rare evenings when Bandra's noise was superseded by the cuckoo's song. She picked up her long-due, over-chilled beer and went to the window and silently closed her eyes, taking in the taste, and the two syllable song of the guest. In another three minutes, she was transported. To all the advances she had had to counter, and all the expertise she had gathered, she thought of faces and moments. Some molten memories, some wrought. She started humming.

Shikha Punjabi did not know whether to be happy, or drown in sorrow. What did she have to tell her parents anyway? Or for that matter, when her friends would come over tomorrow to celebrate her first big-break, how would they receive it, the depth of greatness. She smiled. The hollow hurrays. She had to give up on the stainless steel genes of her family, which produced the best karas in Ludhiana. With her savings from tuition and some more from her Divya, her elder sister, married off to a wealthy family, she declared she would pursue her choice in Mumbai. She did not want those thoughts back, had a small dinner and went off to sleep.

That night she dreamt that she was walking the ramp in Milan as a showstopper for Cue's latest collection. Her built was perfect for their bulky puffs. She woke up. Tomorrow sat staring at her face from the window. She had no clue what she was about to do about her big-break. She just worked with Gulzar and Vishal Bharadwaj. Her life was set in terms of names. But Shikha chose the window to jump out from.

The song in which she sang, already topped the chart on the very day of its release. She could not come to terms with the fact that she only formed a part of the chorus. After two years of struggle, all Shikha could manage was a harmony of the refrain. And a series of "he-he-he-he-he, and la-la-la-la-la." She decided she had nothing glamorous to share with her well-wishers, leaving them with a voice that would haunt them for the rest of their lives.

Shikha Punjabi sang the song of her life.