Imagine

Sneha's heart was beating fast. There was so much sweat on her palms, she could hardly hold the mic. In all her sixteen years, she had never done anything this big, this important.

How had she got here? The audition had been grueling. Round after round - zonal level, city level, state level, national level. Then the training, and even a fitness regime and diet. Nothing should spoil her health, her throat, her voice. She thought of her parents and sister, supporting her through the nerves, not letting her quit.

Now here she was, representing India in the International Songsters Meet. There were eighty countries in the fray. Seventy-nine other teenagers had gone through similar stuff over the last six months, and now each was competing for the title of Nightingale of the World.

Sneha stammered out her name and the country she came from. The judge asked her if she'd like a drink of water, and she nodded. Someone from backstage ran out and handed it to her.

"Relax," she told herself, as she sipped. "Relax. You've got this." She handed the glass back with a smile of gratitude and took a couple of deep breaths. She signaled for her track to play.

She sang.

She forgot everything else, just that this was a song she loved, and she was singing it. She hit the last note, and tapped her foot in time to the last beats of the track.

Silence.

She remembered where she was. The lights were so bright! There were so many people! Sitting ...

No ... not sitting ... the people were standing.

Everyone was on their feet, applauding.

She could hardly respond to the judges' compliments, she was so choked up. In a daze, she took her place among the other competitors as the next one took the stage. She felt someone behind her pat her back, and heard a whispered 'Well done!'. The two competitors on her right and left took each of her hands and gave a congratulatory squeeze.

The next competitor performed and was cheered and applauded ... and then the next ....

"All these people have been through what I have. All of them have parents, sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, countrymen ... watching them perform, wanting them to be the best ..."

The performances done, the competitors were taken by bus to the hotel they were staying at. It had been a long day, and they hardly spoke as they went to their respective rooms to get into more comfortable clothes, maybe bathe, and get room service for dinner.

Three girls shared a room. Sneha's roommates were from Norway and the Netherlands, and, though they'd just been introduced yesterday, she felt she had known them all her life. She was thrilled to find that both of them slept cuddling a soft toy, too, so she would not feel awkward with her little penguin on her bed.

They'd been in the room five minutes when the room-phone rang. Norway answered. She heard what was said and responded, "I'll ask them." She turned to her roommates. There was a serious discussion.

In twenty-six other rooms across the hotel, other teenagers were having the same conversation, coming to the same conclusion. The business center at the hotel was kept busy that night with international emails, texts, calls and even faxes going out and coming in.

Across the world, adults in homes, offices and government centres buzzed around in delight, anger or frustration -- but mostly in admiration.

The announcement was made the next day by the youngest competitor, age 13.

"I'm the youngest competitor here, but I'm calling myself a competitor for the last time. All of us have decided. We're all winners. This is not a competition any more, it;s a collaboration now. We'll be friends, we'll help each other. We don't want to be rivals any more."

Across the world, the adults watched the youngsters. "If everyone could think like them, just imagine, the world will live as one."