To Harsh Singh — the boy who dreams

Harsh rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the cellphone beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours’ time by that alarm clock’s buzz as it obeyed obediently the job that was given to it, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his hectic schedule… He couldn’t know that at this very moment, while he was lost in dreams, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: “To Harsh Singh — the boy who dreams!”