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Stories
The
hall was all too silent. Filled with more than a thousand people, yet with
pin-drop silence. But there was a reason behind that. It was an endless
wait for this special moment, for more than a year. It
was a day for the greatest awards in the world of words. Finally he came,
walked on stage and the name was announced. “ And the award for best
writer of the year goes to Lalima*!” With that just one sentence,
the silence was broken. Cheers and claps, hugs and happiness filled the
room. But she could barely move. Frozen on her seat with tears trickling
down her cheeks, there in the distance she could still hear the wheels of
the train turning, moving and taking her far away from her inspiration,
into her future.
An
unsure yet exciting future. The one she was scared of, yet looked forward
to. And she remembered once again, that one special month in her life when
she had just finished college and was stepping out into the world. Looking
for a fresh start in a new direction. She had ideas but not options,
chances but no choices, she had the will but she was yet to find a way.
The
wheels moved forward and her memories took her back to that first day of
her training. The office was filled with people busy with different jobs.
Meeting deadlines, attending phone calls, working under pressure yet with
pleasure. The seat next to her was surprisingly empty. “Who’d be
sitting here?” she wondered as she was given previous briefs to refer
to, to get a hang of the place.
So
busy she was with the material, little did she realize when the seat next
to her was occupied. “Excuse me, are you the copy-writer here?”
she managed to ask him, to break the silence. In just a matter of a few
hours, the two of them were the closest of friends. She somehow found it
so easy to talk with him, share things with him and ask him for advice..
Look up to him.
“What
do you see yourself doing six months from now?” where do you see
yourself at that point?”
He
knew she was confused, didn’t know what the future held and somehow he
made it his responsibility to get her out of that. To make her think about
what she wants to do, where she wants to go.
“You’re
different, there is something different about you, and that difference is
what no one else has, and you and only you can get it out and show to the
world.. What do you like to do?”
“I
like writing. Its like when I write, I can put in full emotions of what I
feel. I want to be a great writer someday.”
He
would assign her different jobs, sometimes to make an ad for a product,
sometimes to write an article for a magazine. “It’s
either full one hundred points or it’s a zero. There is nothing between
the two. I don’t understand how does a teacher manage to give someone
sixty five, seventy five or even eighty?”
He’d say.
“You
have to be your own critic, don’t wait for the world to tell you that
you’re good. What right does somebody else have to comment on what you
have done?” its you who has to decide. Don’t ever be scared of
difficulties. Remember, there is no way of walking ‘around’ your
difficulties. You have to learn and walk ‘through’ them. And anytime
you feel confused, call me. Talk to me, tell me and ask me anything you
want. Don’t hesitate. I’m always here.”
How
could someone be so kind? So nice? A person she had known for less than a
few days had that special feeling for her which comes very rarely, perhaps
just once in a lifetime. And to her, he became her friend, her teacher,
her critic and her inspiration.
One
month of her training passed in a jiffy.
On
the last day, he gave her a leather bag and a waist. The kind those
professional writers would use. “You don’t know what the future
holds. But I know that this can hold your future very well. Be a winner
always, in all the ways!” he told her before she left.
Her
training was over, it was time to go back to her hometown and face the
challenges of a new life. Face them she did. She began with an entry-level
position in the creative department of an ad agency. For six years, she
worked hard at all that she did. Creative director in a respectable ad
agency, a freelancer and at one point a famous and respected writer.
Anytime she felt lost in a sea of people, lonely in her own world, or
anytime she felt like running away, she looked up to him and she’d be on
the go again.
His
words echoed in her ears. “Do something great someday. Get that
genius out of you. Make me proud.”
And
the wheels of the train came to a halt.
She
went on stage, took the award and said on the microphone “Thank you
*****, I’m proud of you. This belongs more to you, my inspiration,
than to me..” *Lalima
– Early morning spread of soft orange sunlight in the sky. Used as
the name of the main
character of the story in this case. –
Bijal Dwivedi |
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