I sat on the end of my narrow bed next to the window thinking about the rise I've seen in my writing. My first novel was published in 1894 which popularized since then my every story well appreciated by the readers but now a year has passed since I'm suffering. Reyaansh Singhania, the popular novelist suffered from a classic case of writer's block, stories of substance seems to have dried up. No new idea came to my mind on which I could pen down my thoughts, in my 7 years of writing career it happened for the first time.
The summers of Rajasthan were extreme. I lived in this small town "Sultana" alone since I was a teenager with the profession of writing novels and a penname of "Nawab". We did not many people in the town who were known to English. It was 1901's end of august and the heat was vile. I curtained the window against the settling sun to cut the glare, but it made no difference. I'd just had a cold shower but was sweating already. Everyone in town had their window open. The evening pounded the music from the nearby temple of Shiva and children making noise while they played in the field next to the temple.
Attracted by the crowd, I (his look) too went and stood in my courtyard to breathe out there in a hope that it could give me another idea. The novels I wrote varied from one another some were classics, some were against the orthodox thoughts but this time my readers were expecting romance. I didn't want to disappoint them but what to write I thought when a ball hit my head. It must ne the kids who played and this wasn't the first time their ball entered my house. I never was angry on them but today my mood didn't support me and I walked to the gate to throw the ball back.
When I opened the door of my house, a girl (her look) fell on my chest. Her face wasn't familiar to me, she seemed to the town. "Kya chahiye?" I said in my worst mood. She adjusted herself on the ground. "Wo main ball lene aayi thi" I didn't understood why she is asking for ball, from her face she seemed around 18-19 years old. "Areey ball dijiye na" she repeated her words. I stood there looking at her face for some time to understand that who is she? "Tum ball ke saath khel rahi thi?" I asked. She nodded her head with a yes. "Akele?"
"Nahi wo to main mandir ke pass bacchon ke saath khel rahi thi. Maine chauka lagaya aur ball seedha aapke ghar mein vaise aapko lagi to nahi?" She said with a carefree attitude, by words she meant she was playing with kids who were half of her own age. Here I was struck on my write ups and she threw the ball on my head. "Nahi bus tumne mere sar pe ball maari aur itni badi hokar tum bacchon ke saath khel rahi ho agar khelne ka itna shauk hai to dhyan se khelo na." I said in anger. She pouted, "Main aapse itne pyar se baat kar rahi hun aur aap itna akkad rahe ho... Akkadu." She called me Akkadu, "Kya bola tumne?" She took the ball from my hand and ran away shouting, "Akkadu" I was curious to know who was she?
The next day I had some work with Shravan uncle. He was my father's friend and also the closest person to me in town. That afternoon he was at his house when I went to meet him. "How are you, Reyaansh?" he asked. I went near him and greeted him respectfully. The work I had with him was relating my earlier published books, as the publisher was his friend. I was a frequent visitor to his house, for a while we talked about this and that. His wife came out after some time, I greeted her too. "Reyaansh, I wasn't aware that you were here. Sit, I'll send something eat." She said. "Kria beta, I need your help in kitchen." Kria? I had never heard about her before in this house.
"Uncle, yeh Kria kaun hai?" I asked. He told that she was his niece who was here to stay with them. Strange, I didn't know he had a niece. A girl came (her look), with the snacks and buttermilk. I looked down at the file, she kept the tray on the table. The light coming into the room through the window was blocked as she stood in front of me. I looked up seeing at her abruptly she stopped with her work of arranging snacks in plates. "Tum?" I said.
"Tum mera matlab hai aap? Chachu yeh Akkadu humare ghar main kya raha hai?" she said, Shravan uncle glared at her explaining about my identity. She said the whole scene of yesterday in front of him. I thought how can someone speak without taking a pause for so long. She spoke for around an hour neither letting Uncle nor me speak. I just looked at her saying whatever came to her mouth, smiling at her innocence.
This one is for you Kriti...
Actually when I was informed that I've to write something
for your birthday I was busy with one of my chapters from english
and this idea struck me of mixing english with history.
So this series is based on my english chapter and a historic source
on a simple story of marriage
I hope you like it... and dont find it boring
- Love Arya
Cricket
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