Chapter 9: The Punishment of Silence
8 PM. Night. 'Moonlight Pub' had awakened.
The atmosphere inside was as if someone had ground a rainbow in a mixer and scattered it around. Blue and red neon lights floated in the darkness. The air held the scent of expensive perfumes, cigarette smoke, and fake laughter.
Arin and his team were on stage. They had pulled out their 'souls' and poured them into the guitar strings. Every note, every tune was a plea—'Listen to us'.
But the Public?
They were busy in their own worlds. Some were staring at the ice in their whiskey glasses, others were watching a 'match' on their iPhone screens. Arin's music was just 'Background Noise' to them—like the clinking of spoons and forks in a restaurant, which everyone ignores.
The drummer, sweat glistening on his forehead, leaned in.
"Brother," he whispered, "Are we playing music or are we 'Ghosting' these ghosts? No one gives a damn."
Arin looked at the manager standing afar. His eyes were cold. They read—'You won't be able to pull this off, son'.
For the first time, Arin's 'Maharaj' (King) aura began to shake. His 'Wi-Fi' signal was getting weak.
The pub had emptied out. The silence was so deep that even his own breathing sounded like noise.
The manager lined up the team, as if school children were being punished.
"What was this garbage?" The manager's voice bounced off the empty walls of the pub. "I hired you to create an 'Atmosphere', not to sing 'Lullabies'. If you don't know how to play, go back and play in front of the dogs in your alley. This 'Average' work won't fly in Moonlight Pub. Get Out!"
Every word landed like a whip.
The team walked out silently, heads bowed. Arin was at the very back. He took a long breath. His mood was like someone had dropped a 100% charged phone into the gutter—everything is on, but the screen is black.
3 AM. Night.
Arin collapsed on his bed, but sleep had 'Blocked' him. The sound of a cat walking on the tin roof could be heard—khat... khat...
He remembered that old, dark night. The Railway Station. When his parents' hands slipped from his hand. That loneliness, which had returned today.
Arin turned over and looked at Nainu's glowing eyes in the dark.
"Look Nainu," his voice was heavy and rough.
"This life is also like that arrogant crush who doesn't give you any attention. We keep getting 'Unlimited Recharges' of emotions, damn it, and she just leaves us on 'Seen'."
He raised his hand towards the roof, as if trying to catch something invisible.
"In childhood, my own people 'Discarded' me. Today, the pub guys 'Rejected' me. And Priya...?"
His voice broke.
"She took my entire 'Network' away with her, man."
He remembered Priya's last 'Hug'. Her scent was still trapped somewhere in the fibers of Arin's T-shirt—like a ghost that refused to leave.
(Arin's Mind)
"When Priya left, it felt like the 'Server' of my happiness went down.
She used to say I am special...
But today it feels like I am just an 'NPC' (Side Character) in this world's game,
Created only to increase the crowd."
He let out a deep sigh and recited a painful verse to himself:
"The Sim card of love turned out to be defective, damn it,
Before catching the network, the 'validity' ended.
We are those madmen, Sir,
Who send a 'Heart' even on a broken screen."
Next Morning.
The sun's rays fell on Arin's face like a 'Flashlight'. A piercing light.
He took Nainu to the same park.
Releasing Nainu from the leash, he said,
"Go Simran, live your life. Today your brother is in a slightly 'Low-Battery' mode. You maintain your 'Aura'."
He stood on the bench. He looked at the city—buildings, cars, running people.
(Arin's Mind)
"Brother Arin, if the ECG on the hospital monitor goes straight, it means 'Game Over'.
This graph that goes up and down, these are the real 'Graphics' of being alive.
Happiness is not a destination that once found, stays in the pocket.
It is a Netflix 'Subscription', brother; you have to 'Renew' yourself every day."
At the Academy, Arin was on 'Silent Mode'. No jokes, no poetry.
Friends nudged him. "What happened, bro? Why is your radio station closed today? No signal coming?"
Arin gave a fake smile—so weak that even a 'Filter' couldn't fix it.
"Nothing brother," he slung his bag over his shoulder. "Today the system is 'Updating'. Bug fixing is in progress. Had dreams of a 20 thousand salary at night, now drinking the bitter decoction of reality. You guys practice, Maharaj is 'Offline' today."
His dialogue lacked that 'Rizz' today. He was constantly chewing on the manager's words—'Go back and play in front of the dogs in your alley'.
Evening fell. Instead of going home, Arin sat on a bench in the park.
In front, a small child was making a house in the mud. With great dedication. Then he himself kicked it, broke it, and laughed loudly.
Arin kept watching that child.
He remembered his own childhood. When he had nothing—no home, no toys. Even then, he would consider a broken stick a 'Sword' and become the king of the whole world.
Shock!
A spark ignited in his brain.
Arin stood straight up from the bench. The ash in his eyes cleared, and the fire buried beneath became visible.
"Hey Oy Arin!" He scolded himself. "What are you doing? A useless manager showed you your place, and you accepted yourself as a 'Side Character'?"
The wind started blowing hard, his hair began to fly.
"You are the guy who was left by his own people, but you didn't leave 'Yourself'. You are the one who got beaten up at the station and still spat blood and passed a 'Smile'. You are not a Sad Song, man, you are life's 'Hardcore Remix'!"
He punched his chest hard. Thud!
"Enough of this crying and whining.
This 'Sad Boy' filter is permanently 'Deleted' from today.
Now I won't become a Hero... Heroes are outdated.
Now I will become everyone's 'Daddy'!"
His voice no longer held a tremor, but a roar.
"Now watch, in the pub, not just music, but 'Maharaj's Swagger' will play. If they ignore me, I will play so loud that along with their ears, I will shake their very souls!"
He picked up Nainu and tossed him in the air. Nainu also barked in excitement.
"Let's go, my Lion! Time has come to tell the world who is 'Original' and who is a 'Copy'. Self-Love OP (Overpowered)!"
Arin picked up his bicycle. He put his foot on the pedal.
This was no longer the same old bicycle, this was a Chariot of War.
And Arin... he was no longer that broken boy. He was a Rockstar who was going to kick open the closed doors of his destiny.