Fabrics of Fantasy – V

Morning hour, birds chirping, the rustling of grass – the perfect atmosphere to sit and write a short story and so I began…

I had hardly written the first sentence, when a stronger burst of wind, caused the branches to creak and me to look up. It was a lovely morning, pleasant enough to meditate on the story that was forming in my mind.

My first story. It gave me a certain thrill that you will know if you are a writer yourself. Like the creation of a baby. No, even more than that. A baby is created and born and then lives it’s life. A story, or any artistic adventure is different. Once created, it lives you. It still breathes the words that you offered it. Still enamors the idea that you poured into it. And it is a thought-print of you. Something that you leave behind in the sands of time, in the waves of space.

I was feeling like Shakespeare. No, Like R.K. Narayan. I was feeling all Indian. My story was to journey through the heart of India. Through my heart, my thoughts and through my eyes. My perspectives idealized the foundation of my though-print. Does that now sound distant? My baby then. My brainchild.

I would publish it myself. Start a publication house, maybe. But that is a bit far fetched, even to myself. I will sell it to my friend, free of cost. That is not called selling, then. I will offer it. And since I am sure that it will be a best seller, I will take profits later.

I was now suffering from both day-dreaming bouts and from the writer’s block. I was stuck with the first line. Why was nothing surfacing?

Frustration surfaced. and I slowly got up. Why was every thought fleeting past my mind? Why could I not catch onto one and fix it in my consciousness? After all, I had clearly thought out the basic frame of the story already, and why could I not resurrect it now?

My first story. My first line. Was not this what I had wanted to do all along? Create my own world of words? And now…

At 70, delirium and memory are tough battlefields to fight in.

[ As started off by Vivek. You wanted it short, did you not? ]