**Fest Volunteer: Wristband Ka Jadoo**

Aman Khurana ko jab pehli baar fest volunteer onboarding ka message aaya tha, usne do baar screenshot liya tha. Ek baar apne doston ko bhejne ke liye, aur ek baar bas khud ko dekhne ke liye, jaise message mein nahi, uske future mein koi special entry pass chhupa ho. North Campus ke us college mein fest ka season aate hi sab kuch thoda aur loud, thoda aur shiny, aur thoda aur fake-sachcha sa ho jaata tha. Har corridor mein posters, har canteen table par gossip, aur har student ke dimaag mein ek hi sawaal—iss baar kaun sa fest scene karega?

Aman ko scene karna aata tha. Woh waise bhi sharp tha, observant tha, aur jab bolta tha toh aise bolta tha jaise uske paas life ka behind-the-scenes access ho. Uska asli talent yeh tha ki woh kisi bhi situation mein apne aap ko important dikha deta tha. Aur honestly, usko yeh feeling bahut pasand thi. Service, volunteering, helping—yeh sab theek tha, but agar uske haath mein wristband ho, gale mein badge ho, aur log usse “bhai, idhar se aa sakte ho kya?” bol rahe ho, toh uski personality ka ek alag hi battery level aa jaata tha.

Onboarding ke din jab usse neon green wristband mila, duty badge mila, aur ek chhota sa walkie-talkie type device diya gaya, Aman ke andar jaise ek private firework phat gaya. Usne wristband ko aise dekha jaise koi royal heirloom ho. “Bro, this is not just a band,” usne apne side wale volunteer se kaha, “yeh access ka passport hai.”

Side wale ne bina expression badle bola, “Haan, aur kaam ka bhi.”

Aman ne us line ko ignore kar diya. Uske liye ab reality se zyada thrill important tha. First time jab woh backstage corridor se guzra, toh usne jaan bujhkar apne shoulders thode seedhe rakhe, walk thoda confident, aur face pe woh expression laaya jo rich log tab laate hain jab unhe pata hota hai ki unke liye duniya ruk sakti hai. Do security guards ne usko dekha, phir wristband dekha, aur ek ne casually bola, “Haan bhai, go ahead.”

Bas. Aman ko laga jaise usne college life ka hidden level unlock kar liya ho.

Backstage ka scene alag hi tha. Idhar hawa mein coffee, hairspray, cable tape, aur panic ka mix tha. Udhar stage ke piche dancers stretch kar rahe the, ek artist apne headphones mein khoya hua tha, aur ek senior volunteer kisi ko teen baar same instruction de raha tha kyunki sab log half-sun rahe the, half-panicking. Aman ko yeh sab bahut cinematic laga. Upar se ek junior volunteer ne uske haath mein cold coffee thama di aur bola, “Aman bhai, yeh le lo.”

“Aman bhai,” usne dheere se repeat kiya, aur andar hi andar smile suppress karne ki koshish ki. Bhai. Not sir. Not student. Bhai. Yeh word uske ego ko seedha seedha full charge de gaya.

Woh thoda aur aage gaya, artist corridor ki taraf. Wahan ek VIP lane thi jahan se selected guests aur coordinators hi jaa sakte the. Aman ne jab pehli baar us lane mein step rakha, toh usko laga jaise normal crowd ka sound ekdum door chala gaya ho. Ek taraf posters, doosri taraf black curtains, aur beech mein woh khud—green wristband, badge, aur unnecessary confidence ke saath. Ek do logon ne usse dekhkar raasta diya. Kisi ne “sir” bhi bol diya, shayad galti se, shayad uski body language ki wajah se. Aman ne us moment ko internally frame kar liya.

Par Meera Sethi ne usko frame hone ka mauka zyada der tak nahi diya.

Meera event coordinator thi. 22 saal ki, practical, calm, aur aisi jo aankhon se hi bata de ki patience ka stock limited hai. Uske kaan mein ek earbud tha, haath mein clipboard, aur forehead pe woh expression jo Delhi metro ki peak crowd dekhkar bhi same rehta. Aman ko pehli baar dekhte hi usne uska wristband, badge, aur pose notice kar liya. Phir usne uski aankhon mein woh glow bhi dekh liya jo sirf un logon mein hota hai jinko lagta hai ki unki entry special hai.

“Aman, right?” Meera ne bina hello ke poocha.

“Haan,” Aman ne thoda aur upright hoke bola. “Kuch urgent?”

Meera ne usko ek second dekha. “Haan. Do volunteers missing hain. Ek box artist entry pe bhejna hai. Aur please, is corridor mein pose kam, kaam zyada.”

Aman ko yeh line thodi chubhi. Lekin usne face par kuch nahi aane diya. “Done,” usne bola, aur box utha ke nikal gaya.

Problem yeh thi ki Aman ka “done” kabhi kabhi “done for the cameras” bhi hota tha. Usse kaam se zyada uska feel pasand tha. Woh har urgent task ko aise carry karta jaise koi secret agent ho. Jaldi se idhar, thoda udhar, ek pass scan, ek smile, ek nod—aur phir kabhi kabhi woh intentionally aise khada ho jaata tha jaise woh sab kuch manage kar raha ho. Meera ko yeh sab clearly dikh raha tha, but fest ka pressure itna tha ki uske paas Aman ko lecture dene ka time nahi tha.

Woh use chhote urgent kaam deti rahi. Kabhi water bottles ka crate, kabhi mic stand ke liye help, kabhi ek lost artist assistant ko sahi gate tak le jaana. Aman har baar thoda extra style mein karta, aur har baar uski fake VIP vibe aur strong hoti jaati. Phir aaya selfie line wala scene.

Kuch students, mostly media circle ke, Aman ko dekhkar uske around aa gaye. “Bhai, aap event management mein ho kya?” ek ne poocha.

Aman ne halki si smile di. “Sort of.”

“VIP area ka access milta hai na?” doosre ne poocha, aankh mein respect aur curiosity dono.

“Depends,” Aman ne bola, jaise yeh uska personal kingdom ho.

Kabir “Kabs” Malhotra wahi tha. Loud, confident, aur hamesha camera angle dhoondhne wala. Uske paas expensive sneakers the, aise sunglasses the jo shaam ke time bhi useless lagte the, aur awaaz aisi thi jaise mic usse bina pooche mil gaya ho. Kabir ko “posers” ko pakadne ka bahut shauk tha, especially jab koi uske area mein thoda zyada cool dikhne ki koshish kare.

“Arre Aman bhai,” Kabir ne aate hi bola, “tum toh kaafi set lag rahe ho. Guest list mein ho ya staff mein?”

Aman ne usko ek measured smile diya. “Dono mein se kuch.”

Kabir hansa, par uski hasi mein test tha. “Smart answer.”

Naina Verma, first-year student from Noida, us crowd ke side mein khadi thi. Uski aankhen wide thi, aur face pe woh innocent curiosity jo first-year students mein sirf fresher year ke pehle half mein hoti hai. Woh Aman ko dekh rahi thi jaise uske paas fest ka secret map ho. Usko Aman ka confidence genuinely impressive laga. “He must be someone important,” usne apni friend se dheere se kaha.

Aman ne yeh sun liya. Aur bas, wahi tha uska emotional high. Uske andar ek chhota sa dangerous switch on ho gaya. Important. Wahi word. Jiske liye woh secretly live karta tha. Usne apne wristband ko ek baar aur touch kiya, jaise usmein power stored ho.

Tabhi ek loud crackle hua. Stage side se announcement aayi—“Attention, there’s a temporary technical issue. Please remain calm. We are resolving it.”

Aur phir ek second ke liye poora area change ho gaya.

Lights flicker hui. Music cut. Crowd ne pehle “oooh” kiya, phir “kya hua?” aur phir restless hone lagi. Stage ke piche log idhar-udhar bhaagne lage. Ek volunteer ne kisi ko galat direction bhej diya. Do artists apne green room se bahar nikal aaye, confused and irritated. Meera ka face instantly tight ho gaya.

“Power cut?” Aman ne poocha, aur pehli baar uski voice mein genuine tension thi.

“Temporary backup issue,” Meera ne fast bolte hue kaha. “But agar fifteen minutes mein fix nahi hua, crowd will start losing it. Aur media wale pehle hi shark mode mein hain.”

Kabir, jo ab tak bas scene observe kar raha tha, bola, “This is bad. Very bad.”

Meera ne uski taraf dekha hi nahi. “Jo bhi helpful ho, bas help kare.”

Aman ne woh line suni, aur uske andar ka fake VIP thoda sa hil gaya. Ab yeh moment photo-op ka nahi tha. Yeh actual mess tha. Crowd ko control karna tha, artists ko calm rakhna tha, aur kisi bhi tarah panic ko badhne se rokna tha. Usne pehli baar bina pose ke apne walkie-talkie ko dekha.

“Meera,” usne bola, “bolo kya karna hai.”

Meera ne ek second usko dekha. Shayad pehli baar usne Aman ko seriously dekha. “North gate pe crowd pile up ho raha hai. Artists’ corridor clear karna hai. Aur ek important pass—blue lanyard wala—missing hai. Agar woh galat haath mein gaya, toh aur problem ho jayegi.”

Aman ne turant movement liya. “Blue lanyard kiske paas last dekha tha?”

“Shayad green room table pe. Ya Kabir ke media guys ke paas gaya tha,” Meera ne bola.

Aman bina aur time waste kiye bhaaga. Usne corridor mein ek volunteer ko rok ke bola, “North gate pe do log bhejo. Abhi. Aur Main Stage ke left side crowd ko back karwao.”

Volunteer ne uski tone sunke automatically nod kiya. Aman ko khud bhi surprise hua—uski awaaz mein ab fake confidence nahi, real command tha. Usne green room mein ghuskar table scan ki. Water bottles, tissue box, marker, cable... aur finally blue lanyard ek folded brochure ke neeche. Usne jaldi se uthaya aur walkie pe bola, “Blue lanyard mil gaya. Safe.”

Phir usne dekha ki ek artist assistant panic mein phone dhoondh raha hai. “Kisika phone missing hai?” Aman ne poocha.

“Artist ka backup set list hai phone mein,” assistant ne kaha. “Without it, we’re dead.”

Aman ne ek second socha. Phir usne table ke neeche, ek black tote bag mein phone ki charging cable dekhi. “Yeh bag kiska hai?”

Assistant ne point kiya. “Kabir ke media friend ka.”

Aman ne bag khola, phone nikala, aur immediately Meera ko inform kiya. “Phone mil gaya. Set list safe hai.”

Meera ne pehli baar usko bina irritation ke dekha. “Good. Ab North gate pe aa jao. Crowd ko redirect karna hai.”

Jab Aman North gate pahuncha, toh wahan chaos ka alag hi level tha. Students impatient the, security confused thi, aur kuch log bas live story bana rahe the. Kabir bhi wahan tha, camera phone haath mein, aur uski aankhon mein kuch alag hi expression tha. Shayad Aman ka act usko ab tak samajh nahi aaya tha, ya shayad woh samajh gaya tha aur usse pasand nahi aaya.

“Bhai, tum itne calm kaise ho?” Naina ne Aman ko dekhkar poocha, jab woh crowd ko side kar raha tha.

Aman ne uski taraf ek quick smile phenk di. “Calm nahi hoon. Bas abhi panic ka time nahi hai.”

Naina ne us line ko dil se store kar liya.

Tabhi Kabir ne loud enough bola, “Waise Aman, ek baat poochun? Tumhara exact role kya hai? Kyunki kabhi tum VIP lane mein, kabhi staff area mein, aur kabhi aise behave kar rahe ho jaise sab tumhare control mein ho.”

Aman ruk gaya. Sab kuch thoda silent sa ho gaya, jaise background noise ne bhi decide kar liya ho ki ab drama dekhna hai.

Kabir continued, “I mean, no offense, but kaafi log aise hi wristband pehen ke special banne ki koshish karte hain.”

Aman ko laga yeh uske ego pe direct hit hai. Pehle hota toh woh ek smart line maar deta, smile ke saath scene cover kar leta. Lekin ab uske haath mein walkie-talkie tha, uske aas-paas dozen log kaam kar rahe the, aur stage pe backup lights on hone ki taiyari chal rahi thi. Usne Kabir ko dekha, phir Meera ko, phir crowd ko.

Aur usne decide kiya.

“Tu sahi keh raha hai,” Aman ne shaant awaaz mein bola. “Main special nahi hoon. Bas volunteer hoon. Aur abhi mujhe image bachani nahi, yeh fest bachana hai.”

Kabir thoda confuse hua. Usne shayad expected nahi kiya tha ki Aman itni seedhi baat karega. Aman ne apna wristband adjust kiya aur aage bol diya, “Agar kisi ko doubt hai, toh dekh lo. Main yahan kaam kar raha hoon. VIP nahi hoon.”

Meera ne uski taraf ek chhota sa nod diya, jisme pehli baar respect tha. “Good,” usne kaha. “Ab kaam karo.”

Aur fir kamaal hua. Aman ne crowd ko do lines mein divide karwaya, security ko alternate route diya, aur stage side pe ek emergency passage clear karwa diya. Usne do volunteers ko aise coordinate kiya jaise usne poori life yahi kiya ho. Artist assistant ka phone bhi sahi handover hua. Blue lanyard bhi safe tha. Backup lights on hue, sound restored hua, aur announcer ne stage pe aa kar bola, “Thank you for your patience. We’re back in five.”

Crowd ne relief mein cheer kiya.

Jab main performance finally start hua, toh poora venue ek baar phir se alive ho gaya. Music, cheers, lights, phones, sab mix ho gaye. Meera stage ke side khadi thi, thaki hui, par visibly relieved. Usne Aman ko dekha aur ek aisa expression diya jo Delhi mein rare hota hai—pure, genuine approval.

“Good job,” she said.

Aman ne is baar pose nahi maara. Bas thoda sa saans li aur smile ki. “Thanks.”

Kabir, jo ab tak chup tha, aage aaya. “Okay,” usne admit kiya, “I take it back. Tum poser nahi the. You were actually useful.”

Aman has diya. “Actually useful sounds even better.”

Naina unke paas aayi, eyes still bright. “Mujhe laga tha aap koi VIP ho,” usne honestly kaha. “Par ab lag raha hai VIP se zyada important toh yeh hota hai ki koi banda pressure mein bhi kaam sambhaal le.”

Aman ne usse dekha. Uski voice soft ho gayi. “Wristband se importance mil sakti hai, Naina. Respect nahi.”

Naina ne bas smile ki, aur woh smile uss poore fest ke shor mein bhi Aman ko clearly sunai di.

Night ke end tak Aman ka badge same tha, wristband same tha, par uski feeling different thi. Ab corridor mein usse “sir” bolne wale kam the. Par jo log usko dekh rahe the, unki nazar mein ek alag clarity thi. Woh ab fake VIP wala banda nahi lag raha tha. Woh woh volunteer lag raha tha jisne chaos ke beech kaam kiya tha. Jisne image se zyada responsibility choose ki thi.

Meera jab final debrief ke liye aayi, toh usne clipboard band kiya aur bola, “Kal se tum North gate aur artist corridor dono handle karoge. I need someone quick. Aur haan, no extra drama.”

Aman ne apni fake offended face banane ki koshish ki, par smile nikal aayi. “No drama? Meera, that is literally against my personality.”

“Then adjust your personality,” she said, and walked off.

Kabir ne shoulder bump diya. “Respect, bhai.”

Naina ne door se wave kiya.

Aur Aman ne pehli baar bina kisi borrowed status ke khud ko important feel kiya. Kyunki yeh importance wristband se nahi aayi thi. Na badge se. Na VIP lane se. Yeh aayi thi us moment se jab sab kuch बिगड़ रहा tha, aur usne भागने ke बजाय kaam pakda tha.

Fest khatam hone ke baad jab campus ki lights thodi dim hui, Aman ne apna wristband utara aur usse pocket mein rakh liya. Ab woh uske liye trophy jaisa nahi, reminder jaisa tha. Reminder ki borrowed attention ka thrill temporary hota hai, par reliable hona permanent impression chhodta hai.

Aur Delhi-NCR mein, jahan log bahut jaldi judge karte hain aur aur bhi jaldi bhool jaate hain, Aman ko pehli baar laga ki usne kuch aisa kiya hai jo yaad rahega. Not because he looked important.

Because he was there when it mattered.

Thank you, dear readers, for reading this story on storydilse. Aapka pyaar aur time humare liye bahut special hai. Umeed hai yeh story aapke dil tak pahunchi hogi aur thoda sa smile bhi laayi hogi. Aise hi stories ke saath jude rahiye—bahut saara pyaar aur shukriya!