Monday, May 16, 2011


This  is a bitter experience of a budding writer went through his early stage of writing.  
No doubt the dear ones, (especially the writers' at Associated Content  and the blog here) who take a look at this piece will fully agree with me the insult these unlucky species has to undergo with their pieces (creations).  It's really a great misfortune to pass through this phase, but I know through experience that, the would-be writers or journalists are a die-hard lot endowed with an immense capacity not to swallow but to digest these insults.
Here is an example: I had been running after my own household with my just prepared masterpiece of a personal experience in a short story form.

I carried the piece on hoping to find a well-disposed ear. But the ears I could find are not quite of that kind. The first pair I approached was a plain reluctant one. My elder sister's

She said, " Babu (little boy in Malayalam) I'll surely read it, when it's out in print.
"But, Chechi (elder sister), I need your suggestion and opinion, what is the guarantee that it get published at all."
"Don't worry babu, it will publish, I know your are a genious.
 now let me finish the cooking before your Aliyan (Bro-in-law) arrives."
A sarcastic and a back handed compliment, that!
With a frustrated mind I came out from the kitchen and went into my brother's room.

"Oh! You finished so fast? Man, you really write fast!"

Bye the by, is it a story or a poem or an article?

No Chaacha (elder brother) it's a short story based upon our own family members.

What man? 

Story about our family members?

How can you do that?

Go man, I don't want to read at all.
"What Chaacha, don't be silly!"

Just have a look at it and shout.

I said irritated. 

I was totally upset on my family member's outright rejection of even reading the material. I thought, mine is a lost case, now what to do I asked myself.
With a perturbed mind I stood with my write-up in hand outside the room of my brother, suddenly I saw my sister's daughter Shirley passing through and I attacked her. She was an obliging heart and soon fell prey to my wishes.

She said, 'OK Uncle, I want to hear that, I love stories.
With much enthusiasm I started reading my write-up which i thought the best one too.

Mid way there was a yawn from her.

I enquired, 'Molu (little girl) are you feeling sleepy?

No Uncle, please go ahead, I am listening.

When I had finished my reading, I am at a complete loss, I found my polite listener in deep sleep.
May be my voice was a bit too musical for her artistic personality! 

Source: originally published in Associated content 


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