Originally posted by: *Rashmi*Notes: This is supposed to start around the time that Kirti, Mona and Rex get their second chance in Gurukul. It's from Qazi's point of view, basically describing what he feels after they've come.
Qazi and the Prisoner of Fame Gurukul (Title is Sonynyu's idea!)
He didn't want to look at Kirti, Mona and Rex. Everytime he did, a foreboding sense of guilt flooded him. He'd watched them go, all of them, each time the guilt swelling up even more. They went because of him. They all deserved to stay, but they went. Because of him. He didn't want to look at them and see their masked disappointment. They were all blaming him, some way or the other, for their leaving. They left because the public voted him in. They left even though they didn't deserve to. And he was the reason for that. Qazi knew it. He knew that, even though each of them tried to be civil with him, they hated him. It must have been sometime after his third saving, he thought. That was when he started to sense their coolness towards him. The students, all of them, thought he didn't deserve to be where he was. The faculty, though trying to be civil, didn't quite hide their disappointment everytime he was saved. They blamed him too. Everyone did. He was Qazi, the Boy-Who-Couldn't-Sing. He was Qazi, the Boy-Who-Didn't-Deserve-To-Be-Where-He-Was.
He'd struggled through each and every day at the Gurukul. He tried to laugh, maybe that would ease the pain. Maybe if he pretended that nothing mattered to him, he'd convince himself that nothing did. He wasn't fooling himself, though – it mattered. It mattered a whole bloody lot. He tried to be nonchalant about it – maybe no one would see. But he knew. He knew how much it hurt, when someone made a comment, direct or indirect, that suggested he couldn't sing. Which he couldn't, come to think of it. Why was he here? He wanted to be an actor, didn't he? Everyone told him that. Everyone told him he had to be one, told him he was good enough to be one. They wanted to hint that he should have been in some acting show, not singing. He shouldn't have been in this darned show ruining everyone else's chances.
But they had no idea. They had no idea how hard he worked, trying to improve his singing. They weren't allowed out of their rooms at night, so he would sneak into the bathroom to practice, not wanting to wake up the others. He'd stay there for an hour, maybe two, trying to get it right. But he never did. He never could. He'd still end up in the Danger Zone, no matter what. The rest were too bloody good for him. He wasn't good enough. And then he would push himself once more, the next week, practicing till the wee hours of the morning. Then he would end up in the Danger Zone. It was a never ending cycle, he couldn't free himself of it. One day the public wouldn't vote for him – and he'd be out. He could see it now, the masked smirks of the Gurukul students as Qazi packed his bags. They'd pretend to cry, to pat him, to wish him all the luck in future. But they'd all be glad to get rid of him. Each and everyone wanted to see him go. He didn't deserve to be among them, they'd made that much clear.
Against his better judgment, he snuck a look at Kirti. He was smiling and chatting animatedly with Mona and Rex. Almost as if sensing someone looking at him, Kirti glanced around and spotted Qazi. He gave him a weak smile, which Qazi returned, a bit hesitantly. Of course, Kirti was blaming Qazi too. They all were. He could understand where they were coming from, but anyway, if he wasn't at Gurukul he would be replaced by only one person, wouldn't he? He wouldn't have been able to save the six or so others who left. They'd leave anyhow. But of course, they didn't understand that. And Qazi didn't expect them to, either. Their "fears" were well-placed; he understood them completely. But yet, yet he sometimes wished that they could see him in a different light. They were all polite, but there was a difference. It was very clear, they didn't like him, they didn't want him, and he should leave. He should leave. It all came down to that in the end.
Why can't I sing? He thought for one desperate moment. He was working harder than anyone, and he truly, truly loved and respected singing, no matter what anyone else thought. But yet he couldn't reach them. Scratch that, he couldn't reach them with a ten-foot pole. He was always lagging behind, panting heavily to keep up, as the rest sped away and out of sight, leaving him behind. He was always behind. And then, suddenly, he wasn't quite sure how though – he remembered something. He remembered his mother's radiant face leaning over his bed to tell him a story. What was the story? The tortoise and the hare. Something about a race between the tortoise and the hare. Yes, that was it, that was what she always told him. That story was a classic, he'd grown up hearing it numerous times, but it was always one of those proverb-ish things that were made up of complex words and served no more purpose than to complicate matters even further. He hadn't really considered it. But now, now – he wasn't quite sure. The story seemed oddly personal all of a sudden. And then he realized – he'd been living as the tortoise for nine weeks. He was the tortoise, the rest of them were the hares sprinting out of sight. And there was the moral of the story… slow and steady wins the race. Qazi smiled, one of the few very real smiles he'd had since he entered Gurukul. It would all be okay. Slow and steady wins the race. He looked over at Kirti, Mona and Rex confidently this time, and got up. He wasn't the one to blame, and he had no reason to feel guilty. He was Qazi, the Boy-Who-Believed-In-Himself. He was Qazi, the Boy-Who-Worked-Harder-Than-The-Rest. He was Qazi, and he was going to be the Boy-Who-Became-Part-Of-The-Fame-Jodi.
Notes: Uh... right. There it is. The beginning sounds abrupt, and so does everything else. I'm not sure why. I didn't actually set out to write the fanfiction, these lines were just swarming around in my head and I decided to put it down. Before I knew it, I was continuing. Many things about it seem out-of-character, actually, Qazi's not British so he wouldn't be using the word "bloody" even if it's only in his thoughts, but that word has become part of my natural vocabulary and I blame it all on Harry Potter 😛 Lol. Speaking of which, the "Boy-Who-Blah-Blah-Blah" is actually inspired from Harry Potter (the Boy-Who-Lived). I know, I can see you rolling your eyes already. Don't worry, I've endured a lot of it. I also don't like the ending so much about the hare and tortoise thing... I'm not quite sure where that came from. But when a little plot bunny bites me, it chews on me until I give in and put it down. So there. Again, I'm not really that good a writer so it's not that good - but anyway. Hopefully some Qazi fans might like it. And yes - do leave me a line, about what you liked or didn't like. And be honest. I can take the criticism. Really. Lol.
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