“And the winner is…” I heard distinctly and then the next few words were suppressed by the applause and shouts of the people. I was watching myself in the mirror and wondering how could I do the same mistake two times in a row. All the practice sessions were wasted and everything was lost just because of me. I knew no one’s gonna blame me for that but me, since I am my worst critic myself. I washed my face and came out of the washroom, collected our gear and headed up for the school bus.
This was the second straight year since I came to “The Cloud Burst” at BVN. Last year my voice cracked on one of the higher notes of “I Want It That Way” by The Backstreet Boys and this year, the cracking was repeated in “With Me” by Sum 41. Both the times, our band, Pratishodh, lost because of my failing to hit the higher notes. There seemed to be a jinx with BVN. I went for other competitions too, but my voice never failed to hit all the high notes. Lost in my train of thought, I barely replied to the others while they were talking and enjoying, as if nothing happened. I knew if I spoke much, I would eventually breakdown and I didn’t want to do that. Even when I reached home, I didn’t talk much and instantly went to bed.
The worst thing about being a judgmental bastard like me is that no one, including myself is spared from the judgments of my mind. I myself was the victim almost every time I made a mistake. And subconsciously, I used to punish myself for doing it and in a weird sense, also motivating myself to do better next time. I am often harsh on myself, and after repeating my mistake the second time this year, I just lied there on the bed thinking what the others might be thinking of me. That I talk a lot but am worth nothing? That I am a loser? That they should start searching for a new lead singer?
Music was something that I loved to be a part of. I was mostly a western singer and I never learnt Indian classical singing. I was actually a pianist. I used to take the Trinity College Of London’s piano exams every year. When we initially decided to form a band at school, we needed a singer and everyone liked the texture, accent and tone of my voice. So I became the lead singer of the band. My band mates were the typical high school music enthusiasts. They were influenced by hard rock and metal genres of music, purely because they saw that the people, who played them, were the one who came up as the winners. I was not really their type of a vocalist, but they had to do with me, since there was no better alternative. A logical part of me said that maybe my voice croaked because it’s not meant to sing the songs that I sang today. It’s not meant to sing those heavy metal songs. But then the judgmental me came up, and scolded the logical me for making excuses. The next year was going to be my last in school. I had to pull up my socks and win something this time, otherwise, in my mind, I’ll be the villain forever.
There was a particular marking scheme followed by the judges at any event that we participated in. And from experience, we figured out that extra marks were given if an original composition (OC) was performed. I used to write OCs and we performed them at the Commonwealth Games 2010 as guest performances in the Games Village too. So I picked up my pen two weeks before the next Cloud Burst and penned down an OC, which was meant to be a soft melodic song. But then again, the metal-heads of the band turned me down and asked me to write something that was either hard rock or metal. I sat with Sagar, the lead guitarist (a really talented guy) and we composed the whole song in about two days. I wrote another song, a hard rock one this time and we started practicing again. It was titled “I Am Invincible”. There was a particular part in the song, where my voice was again susceptible to crack and I found a solution for that. The other vocalist of our group, Rishi, had a tenor voice. So we figured out places where he could growl in the song to give it a more hard rock-ish feeling. I thought even if my voice cracked, we’ll have a backup to hide it. Sagar prepared some really classy guitar solos and Aniket, the drummer, put a really good beat to it.
We were all set. The doomsday came and just like the previous two years, my throat felt bad on the competition day. I had a cup of tea. Then I had another cup of tea. Still there was no relief and I was convinced that this time too, my voice is going to crack midway and we’ll be straight out of the competition. As we were watching others perform, our confidence increased since we were comparable to others this time. One of the vocalists even showed off on stage when his guitar solo came in, which was pathetic as compared to Sagar’s. We went up, took 2 minutes for sound check, and then started off. We had a tremendous start. Since this was a much pumped up hard rock OC, the whole auditorium just shouted their lungs off for us. Midway, just before Sagar’s solo, I found the vocalist(above mentioned) sitting right in front of me. I was in full confidence and I shouted to him, “Lets see who is the better guitarist now!” That led to a blank surprising stare from his side and another burst of applause from the audience. After the solo, came the susceptible part. Throughout my performance till now, this part was the only thing going inside my head. I took my breath in and sang. CREEK! My voice broke down again , though Rishi put in his growl at that instant. The judgmental me was staring at me. folding his arms and shaking his head. I had failed myself again. However, I continued till the end of the song and we ended up receiving a big applause from the audience.
We sat back in our places and I put my head down in my hands. Sagar asked me, “What happened man?” To which I could only reply, “I am sorry I let you guys down again.”
He calmly replied, “Oh you’re talking about your voice crack? It probably got hidden behind Rishi’s growl.” It seemed no one really judged me as much as myself. But his words were like hope to me. I just hoped that it wasn’t as audible as I initially thought it’d had been. I thought even if we didn’t come 1st , at least we’d get a consolation prize from there.
The results came in. The consolation prize winners were announced. My heartbeat started racing, maybe we’d get the 2nd runner ups. The 2nd runner ups were announced and we weren’t there either. I lost hope and again sank my head into my hands letting out a groan of disappointment. I knew it was all my fault, that everyone else had to lose the third straight year. I was definitely going to bow out as a failure in my own eyes. “The 1st runner ups are…. PRATISHODH” As we heard the first syllable of the name of our band, we threw back our chairs in excitement as we stood up and ran towards the stage. I still couldn’t believe it. We got our medals, had our photographs clicked with the judges and Mr. Khanna, our music teacher. Those weren’t silver medals; they were more than gold medals to us. My voice croaked and we still won. We won it as a band, where we were judged on our complete performance and not just one note of the lead vocalist. Till this time, I don’t even remember who won that year. None of us do. But I passed out of school with satisfaction. The losing jinx of BVN finally ended.
I was praised for composing the OC by everyone there, including my band mates, even though they put in more efforts than me. If Rishi’s growl, Sagar’s guitar solo or Aniket’s tight beats had been not there, maybe we’d have lost again. I realized it wasn’t just me, who was responsible for everything. I committed the same mistake three years in a row and we won the third time despite that. Maybe combined teamwork was all that we required for winning.
The judgmental me, however, held me solely responsible for the losses of the previous years.
The Judgemental Me 