The 27 Club

I had been planning it for quite some time. This birthday had to be special. I was to touch the age of immortality-the 27-club; the age when great legends crossed over the edge. Janis Joplin, Jimmy Hendrix, Kurt Cobain and but of course the mighty Lizard King himself - Jim Morrison.

My enthusiasm knew no bounds, for I had even set my alarm to blast off a Morrison number, ‘Come on baby, light my fire’. I wanted to live like him, sing like him, drink like him, go absolutely berserk like him.
So I stepped out of the house, wearing my favourite ‘WANTED’ Morrison T-shirt, headphones stuck like glue with all his songs queued up for the day, bottle of water replaced by pack of beer cans conveniently dumped into my back-pack. I was feeling no less than a rockstar myself. I had switched off my cell-phone as today was meant exclusively for my hero. No interferences whatsoever. I took off on my activa, not knowing where I was heading to. Undecided and carefree, that’s the attitude I carried up on my sleeve. Forget the world, forget the people, not to touch the earth, not to touch the sky, just run run run, just run. The words echoed over and over again. Let it roll, baby roll..let it roll, baby..let it roll..all night long, it was as if something got over me, the speedometer kept rising, hitting 80, crossing 90, chasing 110, mounting over 140. I was so lost in the moment that I never realized that I had lost control over the brakes. The lights came flashing into my eyes and had me completely blindfolded.

I was kept under observation in the ICU for 3 days. When I regained consciousness, I could see my family looking at me with bated breath. They were uttering words but I couldn’t hear them. It felt as if all my bones were going to crumble any moment. I was completely helpless, I couldn’t speak. My throat was parched beyond measure. I saw my brother holding my iPod. Relief at last, I thought to myself. I looked at him with desperate eyes and he knew. He handed over the iPod to me. He plugged the headphones onto my ears while I struggled to lift my hand to adjust the volume. It was on the maximum level and I yearned to hear the voice of my idol, but nothing happened. I tried switching it off and then restarting but all in vain. I tried tapping the iPod and hoping for a miracle, but no luck. I had tears rolling down my cheek when realization dawned upon me. I stared at the ceiling in disbelief. One day of sheer madness and I had lost my hearing for life.

‘Cut’ I heard a voice in the background. It was Mr. Mehra, the show producer, ‘Well done, Sunisha!’
I knew radio was my calling.