Zest----I

The fever was rising high. The increasing heat of the moment was unbearable. The frantic yelling was proving it. The fire was already lit on the stage, and all eyes were on the man in an unbuttoned checkered shirt with dark glasses….the wordsmith, the musician, the Hendrix of the team…the man with the guitar. Eyes shielded by black glasses…velvet shirt shining on his body…He was calm, composed…waiting for his time. The music was rising high, the crowd was going mad. When the vocalist sang his last tune, it was the time for the guitarist Alex to take over, while the drummer was still giving his beats. He pulled off to start with and implemented successive notes, improvised them one by one, setting a string of infinite beads of notes sewn together…each of them were of different colors. The strident struck the hearts of the multitude present there…they were getting muddled…their smiles reflecting the varicolored lights falling on them, their faces radiant with the vivacity, energy….exalted spirits, dancing to every tune…their claps and yells tried to outsmart the guitar…but Alex was too much for them. He was on a spree. His calm, cold and expressionless face was giving no sign of the fire he was conflagrating. The cacophony was reaching its crescendo. The intimates of Alex were cheering him on…proud friends…but their cheers were just outsmarted by the rest of the crowd. The long, nicely shaped fingers were springing from one fret to the other. He was tossing the strings…bending and hammering them like a goldsmith…throwing a bouquet of melodies in the air, while the maniacal crowd was desperate to catch them…they were figuring the man in front of their eyes…trying to catch the image in the air, kissing it hard, adoring it…while he stood away, untouched…the pied piper. He had beguiled the people. But his face was yet firm and cold.

He bent the last tune and traversed the full fret board to finish the job…the crowd roared after it…the thunderous holler marked his effect on the people. His team mates all hugged him together and the lights were put off. The show was over, but the effect was everlasting. For a moment the people were transported to a different place….it took a long time for them to come back to reality.

In the backstage the jovial silence was broken by the fizz from the champagne bottle. And the there was an air of celebration. The original yellowish color of the walls was already covered by motley lights. The hanging dresses of the band members, the bags and together with the attires and their jocund face changed the visage of the room. The dressing room was in complete mess…the incompletely closed boxes and bags were accompanied by the champagne drops.