"Get me a Jamaican flavour one," she said, handing over her drink coupon - the festival's day-2 wristband getting caught in the zip of her cross-body fringe bag. Both her friends had ditched her to get the drinks. She could see their silhouettes among the crowded bar, but she wished at least one of them would have stayed back to keep her company. Single at a concert - fun, they said. Yeah, right.

And so, there she was, dancing, solo, in her monochrome tie-dye jersey dress, she doubted anyone noticed her. It was the type of dance one did to feel like they belonged to the hippie, cool set, but ultimately it made her feel like a total outcast, especially since she wasn't used to dancing alone. The sequined headpiece, with its intricate glass beads dangled in her long, frizzy-by-the-minute hair. Thank God, it arrived, she thought, feeling the glass beads on the crown.

Nalini couldn't say she believed in love-at-first-sight when it came to men, but with fashion, her heart had never led her astray. She had first seen the beaded headpiece at a trinket shop on Hill Rd, sparkling under the fluorescent white display lights. Glinting as it rotated on an automatic velvet disc. She had to possess it. A wind of obsession enveloped her, along with a thunderous crevasse that had opened up in the sky. The heavy downpour had caused her to run into the shop but before she could get her eager hands on the head piece, the male clerk stopped her. It had been sold to another.

Infatuated by the visual of dancing in the crown, swaying to a bass heavy tune with her girl friends - she couldn't think of anything else to compliment her final look for the music festival. And so, she placed an order with the timid clerk, in the hopes that it would arrive before the festival. Her heart knew that this was the accessory that would change her life, and had she had any prophetic abilities, she would be right.

Styling the perfect festival outfit could lead to getting featured in a magazine, and she needed all the coverage she could get being a budding fashion blogger. The online world was getting bigger, and while bloggers in India were still unheard of, in London and Paris, they were being treated like royalty. She suspected that junior writers for magazines like Vogue and Femina would also be at the festival. They had, in fact, been popping up at a lot of non-fashion events. The publishing world was gearing up for the winds of change. Trying to stay relevant in a world where being online was becoming greater by the second. And she, Nalini Arora, wanted to be at the forefront of this new online fashion army, which is why she got a bit nervous when the crown hadn't turned up.

The shop clerk had assured her it would be in her hands by 11am the day before her flight to Goa. A classic case of - little lies, lots of sales - a technique shop keepers had used to entice and fool clients for decades. They had the power, after all, because there was nowhere else to shop. Thankfully, the beaded crown had arrived 20 mins before she had to leave the house for her 4pm flight. When it had arrived in the nick of time, she was thrilled that she wouldn't have to change her whole outfit strategy.

Nalini smiled, touching the crown on her head, feeling extra chuffed, she wished there were mirrors on the beach, but she settled for the heads that turned every time she walked past. It was enough to inflate her already tipsy and enlarged ego.

"Excuse me... Hi, I'm Chiba Nyondo, I work for Vogue," he said, to which Nalini stopped dancing, rather abruptly, her crown tipped down her forehead. Standing in front of her, dressed in a rather large black sun hat and a long white kaftan, with a pair of silver-halo shorts underneath, was indeed the most eclectic person at the festival. There was no mistaking a member of the fashion fraternity, like moths to a flame, they all shared a particular affinity to over-the-top outfits, which is why he had spotted Nalini, immediately.

"I really like your outfit, can I take a picture? We'd like to feature it for a festival and fashion piece we're doing for the magazine," he said.

"Oh, sure," trying to play it cool, as if this sort of thing was a regular occurrence.

"Great... Arjun, snap away," he said to the photographer, who she had only just noticed. Then turning back to her, he said, "we'll take some posed ones now and then some candids throughout the night, so don't be alarmed if you see a flash."

"That's fine, I guess. As long as I don't look silly."

"We're Vogue darling - silly - isn't in our repertoire. So, who are you, what do you do?" he said, scanning her from head to toe with a discerning eye - a bangle laden arm propped on his hip.

"My name is Nalini Arora, I just graduated from college, and I'm a fashion blogger."

"Fashion blogger, hmm, not a lot of those here in India. No wonder you're so dressed up," he said.

"This is dressed up?" she said smoothing down an imaginary wrinkle on her tie-dye jersey dress.

"Look around you, darling, you're the only stylish girl here. I mean it's 2008, can we please upgrade from mommy's closet," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Thanks....I think?" she said, unsure of whether he was being friendly or rude.

"Oh, honey, relax. If you want to be in this business, you have to grow a thick hide. Or wear a large robe and an oversized hat."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Too bad I didn't see your day-one outfit," he said

"You didn't miss much, but I wish this was a three-day festival-"

"More outfits," they both said at once, their eyes darkening with a shared delight that stemmed from their love for expressing themselves through elaborate outfits.

"Are you from here?" He asked, excited to have met a kindred spirit.

"No, I live in Bombay - Bandra girl," she answered.

"Well, Bandra girl, give me a call when you go back, we should catch up," he said, handing her his business card. Then without much indication, he walked off as fast as he had arrived, a feat that surprised Nalini. No kaftan long enough to hold that man down, she thought.

She was over-the-moon about being photographed and meeting Chiba, who she knew would be a great ally to have on her fashion journey. She adjusted her headpiece, acutely aware that she was still standing alone. To Nalini, it felt like her friends were gone for what seemed like hours. In actuality, they'd been at the bar for the length of three whole songs. She didn't know it yet, but the fourth song, yet unplayed and yet unheard, would alter the course for her and the man on stage.

It was the gravitas in his voice that made her turn around. She looked up at the stage, the strobe lights flickering haphazardly, behind him. He was surrounded by twinkling lights like the stars above in the darkening violet sky. His voice felt like kisses on her skin as he sang the first verse of a song she instinctively knew came from a place of pain, fear and unbearable loss. Musicians and their tricks.

"Whoa, who's the dude?" said Sanjana, carrying two fizzy yellow drinks.

"Let me check the line-up," said Aarathi.

"Shhussshhh" Nalini fussed, she was now steadily swaying to the sound of the bass guitar. The song was calling to her, and so in a music-induced daze, she crept forward, closer to the stage - needing a better look at him.

He was lean, but not skinny. Perfect, she thought. She noticed his strong forearms holding his electric guitar and the trace of stubble lining his sharp jawline. His symmetrical eyebrows were furrowed, as if in a painful memory. He sang the last verse of the song, unaware of the crowd. In the short time they had performed, festival-goers started collecting, captivated by their music. By the fourth song, Nalini wasn't the only girl who could be spotted eyeing the band. She was, however, the only one that twinkled.

"The last embrace, and memory of your face," the words he sang pulled at a bruised chord inside her that she didn't know needed healing.

She was lost in the song, no longer concentrating on the words because his raspy voice spoke to her soul. The moisture on her face caught her off guard - a single tear giving way to more, unlocking her sealed heart. Intuitively, she knew that the tears she was shedding were for the past, and she was finally ready for the future. Musicians and their tricks, she smiled, feeling weightless, lifted - renewed.

With every chord played, the song managed to transform a crowd of stragglers into a collective - united by a shared intangible feeling. Lighters in the air, the whole crowd swayed as one, feeling free and inhibited. Sanjana and Aarathi too were caught up in the music, and for the briefest of moments, their fingertips touched - in their eyes, the hidden feelings they weren't free to display could not be tempered. Nalini's heart ached for them.

The effect of the song was now at fever pitch, rippling through the crowd like a wave. Everywhere she looked, couples embraced, friends swayed, and singles were glued to the band who were partially visible in the spotlight's off-focused glow.

And then he sang the last lyrics. She glanced at the stage, hoping to etch in her memory the way his face looked. She wasn't sure if he sensed it too, but she looked up and at that very moment, he opened his eyes, and to her surprise, they were looking right at her. All evidence of people around them faded and the stage seemed to have melted, leaving Nalini feeling like it was just the two of them floating among nebulous carpet of twinkling stars.

Flash.

What was that?

She looked across to see the photographer from earlier had taken a candid photo of her. Shit, I hope I don't look like a lovestruck fool.