Page 190 - Musings 2020

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The Walkman

Kumar Utkarsh 2017A3PS0350P

The sweet aroma of the freshly baked cookies filled the room. A warrior was going out for
battle, albeit reluctantly. The ammunition was all packed, books ranging from a meek threat
level of NCERT to the likes of Irodov. The warrior was all set for Kota, a factory that was to
churn out his dreams and convert them into reality. Harsh was a smart guy, an academic
miracle in school but his miraculous failure to make it to the IITs made it apparent for his
parents to seek the obvious resort, Kota.

“The game is over '', spoke Milan triumphantly sitting atop the bed that adorned video games
of all kinds, all of which would be his possession in a few hours from now. If happiness had a
face, it was this. A young kid of age 13, he was envious of his brother, who was the cynosure
of every eye. The door creaked open, a tall figure loomed over him and said with menacing
eyes which meant business, “The game, brother o'mine, has just begun.” With a swift
movement of his hands, Harsh grabbed the Sony Walkman lying on the bed. The most
treasured possession between the brothers, the Walkman was an indispensable part of their
lives. In times when the Internet was not around, the Walkman proved to be their escape from
reality, an entertainment source that was to be cherished.

Mayhem erupted and the whole house fell into a state of complete pandemonium. Milan ran
after Harsh, calling out expletives too vulgar for his age. He was stooped short in his pursuit
by their mother by a hard slap on the face. His muscles twitched and he went into a fit of
rage.
“I am having the Walkman. Why should I be the one to compromise? If he’s going there for
studies, what does he need the Walkman for?”
“He’ll have none of us to talk to. Completely new surroundings and new people will greet
him. Have you ever thought about this? For us, life would fall back into place with us
supporting each other. He’ll have nothing but books and studies to ponder about. The least
you can do is talk to him properly and be sensible enough to let him take the Walkman. And,
I am not hearing more of this. He’s taking it and that’s final.”

Milan had lost reason. All he could exude in terms of feelings was hatred and disgust for his
brother. The honking of a taxi at the door interrupted the proceedings inside the house. The
luggage was loaded and it was time for goodbye. Harsh embraced his parents, clutched them
tight for as long as he could. His mother trembled and tears poured down on her face. Harsh
went ahead to hug Milan, who took a step back and said, “I don’t want to see your face.
Never ever come back again!” He gulped, smiled feebly while attempting to control his tears,
wished Milan, and sat in the taxi. The taxi drove off and an eerie silence spread over the
house. Milan went back to his room and again started evaluating the treasures, which were
now his singular possession. While fidgeting with these stuff, he found a note kept at the
corner of the bed, hidden under the pillow, “For you, thousand times over! The Walkman is in
your drawer. With love, Harsh”

And, there it was! Milan stared at the Walkman, he was at a complete loss of words.

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