Today, while chilling out at the coffee machine in my office (enjoying my 'screen-saver moments" as Russell Peters elegantly puts it), a mellow voice floated in the air and brushed my ears. As I searched the corridor to find the young woman whose singing had caught my attention, I was disappointed. There was nobody on either sides of the corridor, except a janitor mopping the floor.
Before I'd dismissed it as a figment of my imagination (perhaps one of those "audio-enabled-screensavers"?), a closer inspection revealed the true owner of the voice.
The janitor herself.
There she was -- making deft strokes on the floor -- each stroke meticulously dampening every square inch of the floor -- each stroke meticulously following the rhythm of the song.
I couldn't help but witness the office floor be transformed into a Leicester Square stage (complete with strobe lights and live musicians), showcasing the musical of a discreet broom-wielding star.
I soon landed back on the office floor and decided to get close to hear her better. Keeping in mind of her discreetness, I walked towards the lift on the corridor, pressed the button to summon the lift and waited, unaware. Moments before the lift had arrived, I turned to her and said:
"You sing well, akka!"
"Sir?" she cried, with alarm reeking from her eyes.
"I said, you sing very well!"
"Me? What was I... Was I singing?"
"I was having my cup of coffee and I heard you sing. You sing well, seriously."
She blushed. Profusely. And I began to wonder, if there is any jewel in this world which can embellish a woman more than her unfaked blush.
"I head our company's music troupe. Would you like to sing on stage?"
"If I sing, the audience will run away!", she quipped, blushing all the more.
"I think the audience would love to hear you. May I ask your name?"
"Malath..." she stopped, bit her tongue and said, "Usha".
I smiled and took the stairs, knowing for certain that hiding her name can't possibly hide her talent.
I doubt if Henry Higgins has set foot on this world in my shoes, but I sure do look forward to have her singing on stage; only this time, wielding a microphone for a change.
UPDATE (March 03, '11, 17:40 hrs):
Spoke to Usha today. Learned that she has become the laughing stock amongst all of her fellow workers, after one of my colleagues (?!?) inquired my company's facilities team of her whereabouts and if she sings well. All of Usha's coworkers, she laments, now believe that the idea of her singing on stage is a joke!
I spoke to the clearly upset Usha (who now confesses that she can't sing more than two lines of a song), assured her that her coworkers deserve a mighty revenge, and that she must practice hard, get on stage, grab a mic and steal the show!