M.E.M.O.R.Y | Chapter 3: Omar

All characters appearing in the work are fictitious. Any resemblance to a real person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

“Greetings. Congratulations on being selected as a finalist of the Freshers Talent Hunt. Do utilize this opportunity to the best of your potential. Be prepared with what you’re going to perform by tomorrow. Be there at CCD by today 6 pm with a clear idea of what you are going to perform.
All the best. “ @

Omar could feel his heart beating faster. He was already imagining going on stage, dazzling the crowd with his dance performance and winning the coveted title of Mr. Fresher. Then he remembered that Maria’s ph0ne had also pinged at the same time.
Omar looked up from his phone and smiled at her but she didn’t look up. He went to her and said “How many times are you gonna read it to believe it? We’ve gotten into the finals!” Yukta, Raghav, Eeshan, and Ram looked at them proudly, all smiles on their faces.
“Congrats guys, I knew you could do it.” cheered Ram. Yukta went over to Maria and was about to give her a big hug but stopped midway when she finally saw the look on her face. “Maria, what’s wrong?”
Maria then looked at Omar and sheepishly mumbled “I didn’t really get in”.
“But the message….”
“Actually, that was a rejection message,” she replied, looking crestfallen.
Omar’s face fell. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn't have just assumed… anyways, there are so many ways other than Fresher’s Night to show your talent. There is the Dance Troupe, plus a hell lot of competitions too and also-”
“Omar, it’s okay. Really, I’m fine. Besides, I didn’t really wanna get in.”
“You sure you okay?” asked Omar.
“Yeah, I’m good.” She raised her hand and said warmly, “Congratulations, man.”
“Thank you, ” Omar shook her hand awkwardly.
Eeshan chimed in, “Don’t you dare forget to treat us when you win Mr. Fresher”.
“Wait, what treat? I didn’t agree to this.”
“Don’t think you’re going to get away that easy”, teased Raghav.
Omar rolled his eyes as he resigned himself to his fate.
The six friends were chilling together, when suddenly Omar smacked his head.
“I have to show my dance at six and I don’t know jack. I gotta go and practice my moves. I’ll see you guys later.” With a wave goodbye, Omar cycled back to his hostel.
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That evening, Omar headed over to CCD, accompanied by a nervous Ram. “You remember all the steps, right?”
“Yeah, I got this. I appreciate you coming, but you didn’t have to, you know.”
“I know, but still.” replied Ram.
“Fine, your wish. But seriously, thanks for tagging along, man. ” said Omar gratefully. Ram smiled slightly.
As Omar performed in front of his seniors, he spotted Ram standing outside, watching his performance intently. Encouraged by the silent support, he steeled his resolve and gave it his all.
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“How did it go?” asked Ram.
“The seniors were pretty satisfied with my performance, but it’s gonna be a completely different playing field when I'm doing it in front of eight hundred people.”
“Nervous?”
“Yeah, actually. I have a feeling I’m going to forget my shit in front of all these people tomorrow. I don't like this”.
Ram looked at him straight in the eye and swallowed. “Muthuramalingam.”
“You’re welcome?”
“No, that's my name. My full name. Muthuramalingam.
Ram looked at him and said, “If you get nervous on stage tomorrow remember my name.”
“Say what? Seriously?”, asked Omar with a huge smile on his face.
Ram replied, albeit a bit irritated, “If you get nervous on stage tomorrow remember my name.”
Omar started chuckling.
“Shut up, it’s not that funny”, said Ram, who was obviously embarrassed. “And don’t you dare tell anyone about this or I’ll kill you while you sleep”.
“Woah, woah, chill dude. Your secret’s safe with me.”
Omar teased Ram the whole way as they went back towards their hostels.

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The next day, time just zoomed by and before he knew it Omar was at the backstage of the Barn Hall along with the other finalists. They all seemed to be nervous, except for this one guy, who kept smiling the whole time. For some reason that irked Omar.
Ignoring him, Omar tried to remember the sequence of his steps.
“……After the shuffle, the wave, then another shuffle. Hey, I got ‘em all. See nothing to worry about, you have performed in front of a crowd hundreds of times”, Omar smiled complacently as he was thinking this to himself.
It wasn’t long before the finalists were called on stage one by one. Some came back smiling while others came back with a crestfallen face. Omar was the last to perform. He was waiting right at the door; his heart was pounding and nervousness was slowly creeping in.
“And for our final performance, we have Omar on stage.”
“Muthuramalingam”, Omar muttered to himself.
He had a huge smile as he walked on stage.