The SoLOiST

...Played same notes for a few bars, plied same route at some point, were mates sometime. He was just realizing; we are mere cohorts of individuality. Sad as it felt, this feeling didn't erupt from inexperience. He had been too reluctant to accept reality when it hinted and, yes, he felt foolish but was justifiable. What he couldn't figure out was why he was the only one who lacked that consciousness then. But actually he wasn't and would have realized that if his emotions were more in-tact at the moment. There were others who took those youthful days with as much ignorance or slackness as he but he wouldn't be consoled by that.

There was no time to wish for a rollback, crying in the silence of depression wouldn't help either. Cynicism may, he considered. It was an extreme he never believed in but it now felt necessary. So he made a resolution and ,slowly, steadily evolved into the man who would later be named a name that describes his present life, perspective and act...THE SOLOIST.

It was now perfectly clear. We were born into the same home but different destinies. We have walked through the same years or number of years but different experiences. Even if we had the same qualification, we sure have different ability. We are different people, individuals. We are all on our own. Therefore, being who he now was was not a decision he had to make. It was a pre-existing status he merely had to realize, operate as, and get used to - which he hoped he would. He was ready.

Twenty-two year old Maxwell Thames, sprawled on his fluffy Tabriz rug, reached out for a remote control lying about one feet away from his left hand, felt around the buttons for a few seconds with his fingers then, pointing it forward, made some music play from the stereo set standing somewhere close-by, about three metres away from his feet. Dropping back the remote, both arms swept an angle at the elbow and found his palms behind his head where they met, intercepting his head from the rug. Then his eyes closed as his mind wandered a few years back.

It was the Redwood High School days, 1992. Schooling was fun, especially with his bunch of friends and their variety of craziness. It wasn't a very big group. They were five but that was just the core. The entire circle was larger with people joining and leaving, active then inactive, fighting and bonding. That was how it was for the entire period from fourth to fifth grade. But the five remained relatively together. Everything was just fine, academics too. Though they weren't scoring the same marks in the weekly class quiz, it wasn't bad enough to throw them apart. Jun usually scored the highest among the five and sometimes in the entire class and they all knew it. Even before the marked sheets would arrive, guesses would be on the wait and on some crazy days bets. Pretty often, the argument was whether or not he will break his 'record' this time. "I say yes," Max would usually say and that would almost automatically throw his usual 'rival', Gab on the other end; "no! mine is a no!" Her name was actually Gabriella but she acted too much like a 'he' for the name. She was a tomboy, but a really cute one, though she didn't look it. Her braided hair, un-made-up face and dressing was never enough to give her away if she hadn't spoken or been in a conversation. You could hardly notice her boyishness from afar but close up her energy and sarcasm were a mismatch for her fully feminine face and figure. Of course, not for the group. They were used to her, everyone else among them and themselves.

Audrey and Debby would take our sides too while the owner of the script had a good time and took his - even he could never be too sure what the outcome of day's assessment would be. On some other days the bet would be if he would 'top' again or not. Whoever lost would have to give up a reasonable portion of his lunch for that day for those on the other side and take some serious ridicule. But lunch would still be fun, loud and attracting a lot of attention as usual. Their closeness was envied by many of their mates but that didn't matter much. They simply rolled on. Teenage-hood was exciting. [to be continued...]