The aircraft took off, he realised that it was the beginning of a new chapter in his life. Rohan, a simple village boy from Calcutta was on his way to Bombay, The ‘City of Dreams’-as they call it, to make his lifelong dream of becoming a song artist come true. He was nearly 23 years old, walking out the airport of a new city, with a backpack, a guitar on his shoulder and head full of dreams.
He had managed to save ₹20,000, half of which he had already spent on his hotel room, his flight ticket and his brand new guitar. His family had urged him to go to Bombay to showcase his talent. He was a young inexperienced lad with a voice sweet as honey, an iPod full of songs and the showmanship of a maestro.
He had promised to send his family letters on a daily basis, describing life in the city that promised success and fulfilment of dreams. He wrote to them everyday about the food he ate, the places he visited, the people he met and especially about the progress in his music career.
He had been talking to a man on social media after finding his profile on LinkedIn. The man went by the name Sahil Shetty and claimed to own a studio in the secluded parts of Bombay. He told Rohan that he had the talent and the ability to make it big in the music industry. All he needed was a little push and a good studio that would help him publish his albums.
Sahil said that since he saw so much potential in Rohan, he would help him publish his first album for half the cost – rupees fifteen thousand.
Having his own album cover for millions to listen to had always been Rohan’s biggest dream. Without any hesitation, research or even a second thought, Rohan thus agreed to meet with Sahil and do business with him.
However, there was a problem, Sahil Shetty had asked for rupees five-thousand more than what Rohan could afford, leaving him with no other choice. With a heavy heart and three buckets filled with tears, he decided to sell his flashy new guitar to gain the remaining sum.
Sahil Shetty personally went to Rohan's hotel to meet him and collect the money, which he insisted on receiving in cash. He then gave Rohan his card, asked him to come to the studio the following day, and sped away in his car. The ecstatic Rohan didn’t pay much attention to it as his joy knew no bounds. Little did he know, fate had other plans for him.
The next day, he wore his best clothes and left very early to meet Sahil at the ‘Shetty Music Studio’. When he reached the address given on Sahil’s card, he was speechless. The studio turned out to be a heap of rotting sticks beside a construction site.
Upon dialling the phone number on Sahil’s card, all he heard was the automated voice of the telephone operator saying ‘The number you have dialled does not exist. Please re-enter the correct number or try again later.’ Sahil Shetty‘s LinkedIn profile had mysteriously been deleted and Rohan had been blocked by him on all social media platforms...
The poor village boy had been scammed, scammed by the person who had promised him success, in the city that promised to fulfil his dreams.
The terrified lad now had nowhere to go, nothing to eat, no guitar to play, no money. Everything had been taken away from him. All he was left with was shattered dreams and the sole responsibility of earning for his family.
He could not bear the aftermath of the event. As the days went by, the apparent Sahil Shetty was spending thousands, while poor Rohan was losing himself bit-by-bit, until not even Rohan himself could recognise the person he had turned into.
Everyday, his family waited by the mailbox- hoping, wishing to receive letters from the boy, keeping their fingers crossed and praying for him daily, but little did they know of what had happened to the young talent. The dishonest world had butchered the boy’s heart- the boy’s dreams and his family’s expectations.
This takes a toll on the mind of a young lad, a heavy toll.
Even today, if you pass by the Bombay Central train station, you will see without fail, a young man in his twenties, sitting in front of the cigarette shop, singing beautiful, melodious self-written songs at the top of his lungs – calling out for alms.
There is pain in his voice, not a single day goes by without tears in his eyes. He thinks everyday of what could have been- but to no avail. He had been bested by fate.
The boy is living his nightmare in the ‘City of Dreams’.
Comments