'Hello merchant..., I'm in a hurry...Pack the sugar you've weighed...,' said the customer in a hasty manner.

Satish, the merchant didn't respond to the customer, as he was lost in reading a novel. Later he learnt that the customer was in a hurry, and so he directed her by the hand to wait for a while.

'Hello merchant, I’ve to make tea ready for my husband now. He's to attend the office very soon. He's very punctual... He'll be angry with me if I'm late... Hello!' said the customer.

Satish was still going through the novel. After completing the first leaf of two pages in its manuscript, he picked up to read the old notebook from which he had detached it.

'Hello, mind your business... Don't forget that you are a businessman. If you don't pack soon, I'm leaving for the other shop...,' said the customer.

'Hello Susheela, pack the sugar with some other paper, a piece of newspaper,' said Satish to his wife and continued to read the novel in manuscript. It was very interesting for him.

Susheela came from inside and packed the sugar. The customer left the shop with the sugar packet happily.

~*~

What happened to Satish that morning? It was worth knowing for everyone. When the customer came to buy sugar, Satish was in the shop.  He picked sugar, weighed it and was ready to pack it. He picked up a long notebook to detach the first sheet from it and pack the sugar. Suddenly his sight fell to the beginning of the novel in the first sheet detached from the notebook. That paper with beautiful handwriting was like the face of a beautiful woman decked with ornaments. The title of the matter was like the vermilion on her forehead. He started to read with interest. He continued to read it at a stretch. It was a novel interesting to him. That is what happened to Satish that morning.

Satish was a merchant but had an extensive interest in reading books. He used to read any piece of newspaper or any other before packing anything on its sale in the shop. He used to enjoy reading newspaper clippings or notebooks sitting in his shop. He got all these old papers and all written notes from a street hawker who bought them from different people. He believed that all the writings flow from the reservoirs of knowledge. It is not an ordinary thing to write to reflect the fountain of knowledge.

The merchant Satish bought old books and newspapers from many street hawkers for the use of packing the things. He folded the piece of paper into the cone shape and filled it with the things or provisions. He had stocks of all old newspapers and old notebooks for that purpose.

It was a novel to depict human values and life truths with the title Life Tides. Satish was aware of the travails in the literary journey of writers as he read about them in some newspaper. He did not know who the writer was. He enquired with the street hawker on his next visit.

'Where have you bought this long notebook with the novel in manuscript...?' said Satish earnestly.

'I bought old newspapers and notebooks from various people in various places... How can I remember all those people...? I got this from a person... I can't remember his name...?' said the street hawker.

'It doesn't possess any name on the cover,' said Satish.

'Okay, if it's possible, I'll enquire about the man to have written the novel,' said Street hawker impatiently.

'Enquire... Let's wish the best...,' said Satish while the street hawker was leaving the shop for his work.

Satish was lost in deep thoughts about the writer while his wife Susheela was busy selling the provisions to the customers:

The writer is good at writing novels. He's good at narration, lucid in expression and broad in vision. He's the architect of literature to reflect human values and professional ethics for the people of future generations. He carves a niche for himself and creates a history in the literary firmament. The writer is no doubt brilliant...

I hope that the writer hails from a poor family. If he had been rich, he would have published the novel... He would have got fame and name by this time...

 The writer can produce excellent novels to reflect his thematic brilliance and narrative excellence...

The novel shouldn't go unheeded in the form of waste newspapers...I don't let it hide itself as a hidden jewel...

The novel should come to the readers... It should enlighten the readers with its thematic content...

I publish it...I should publish it at any cost...

It's my minimum responsibility to publish it as a man of literary taste in particular...and human concern in general...

I am ready to publish it as the patron... The novel deserves awards and awards...'

 ~*~

Satish sent the manuscript to the publishers. The publishers were happy to publish it. His happiness knew no bounds on its publication. He waited for its publication and copy in his hand.

The novel Life Tides was in markets and libraries. Satish also received a copy of the novel. It drew the attention of great critics and regular readers with their due response and great admiration for it.

The novel achieved awards at the state and the national levels. Satish was very happy in publishing it. He felt pride for that. He felt that he had done due justice to the novel for its success.

The writer, Raman was not aware of the availability of his novel in the print form in libraries. He was economically poor but academically sound. He wrote many like this, but he did not send them for publication. He read very extensively and wrote excellently to attract the attention of the readers but remained unknown to the reading public.

Raman in his usual visits visited the Government library in his town, Vikas Nagar. He found a new novel in the rack of the library. It recently arrived for the readers at the library.  He as usual picked it up happily. He sat to read the novel.

Raman's face glowed with innumerable charms while he was reading the novel. There were infinite smiles on his face. The library goers sitting beside him noticed him smiling openly. He was the person to come to the library everyday. They never saw him smiling any time. He was all the time serious in reading. For the first time, they saw him smiling heartily. The man sitting nearby started to speak to him,

'Raman, you're very happy today...Has your wife delivered a baby or twins...?'

'No...,' said Raman.

'Raman, have you won the lottery?'

'No...,' said Raman.

'May I share your happiness...your smiles?' said the man.

'Yes, it's my novel... It's my dear novel... the novel written by me...It's my novel published last month... the last month itself... I'm very glad to tell you about my novel...' said Raman very happily.

'Wow, you're a writer...This is your novel published last moth...' said the man happily, as he found some scintillating smile in Raman's face for the first time.

'Yes...yes… it's my novel...my title...my title, Life Tides, my chapters, my beginning... my conclusion... and my all... written by me... by my hand...Goddess Saraswati bestowed on me the art of writing...,' said Raman to the man

'Congratulations, my dear,' said the man.

'Thanks...Thanks a lot...,' said Raman happily.

Meanwhile another regular library visitor interfered to share the happy feelings of the author, Raman.  

'Congratulations...Show me your novel... Let me see...'

 'This is my novel...the novel written by me...,' said Raman.

'This is a famous novel... I hope you haven’t seen the reviews of this novel... There were reviews last week...This got awards at the state and the national levels,' said he with all smiles.

'I see...I'm not aware of the reviews. I'm unfortunate to remain unknown to the readers... to the reality that I've written this novel...,' said Raman.

All the library visitors gathered there to greet Raman. His happiness knew no bounds. The tears shed in happiness welled his eyes, were in shine in full glory.    

'Your name isn't there...,' said someone.

'No, my name isn't there... but it's my novel... Some patron, Satish published it,' said Raman with a deep feeling in his face.

'You can enquire about Satish...,' said another one.

Raman was happy. He went home happily. He searched at length for the manuscripts of the novel in his house. He was not able to trace out it.

'Anusha, what happened to my manuscripts...?' said Raman to his wife.

'What manuscripts...?' said Anusha.

'The manuscripts of my novel, my poetry, my short stories...,' said Raman with all anxieties and curiosities.

'I sold all the old newspapers and all your old notebooks to a street hawker...when came to me one day. I sold them off to him as all of them had gathered dust...full of dust,' said Anusha unhesitatingly.

'Why didn't you inform me?' said Raman.

'That's all waste...None is going to read that stuff and bulk nowadays...in the age of internet generation...,' said Anusha.

'You don't know many things...What you know is a little not much in this regard... A patron published my novel, using my manuscripts... Many readers are reading my novel... My novel is in our town library also... It's everywhere...,' said Raman in a cheerful mood.

 'See dear. What I did innocently turned favorable to you indirectly... See, I've done great...  I'm great...I'm great indeed,' said Anusha.

'You're not great...I'm also not great. One thing is that I've Goddess Vani's profuse blessings... I've written this novel by virtue of the blessings of the goddess...Her blessings are great... My novel is great... My novel is great...,' said Raman.

 'I congratulate you on the publication of your novel...,' said Anusha.

'Thank you...,' said Raman.

'I hope that the publisher will publish your poetry and short fiction,' said Anusha.

'I don't know who received the manuscripts of my poetry and short fiction. You sold all my manuscripts to the street hawker,' said Raman.

'Some how somebody published your novel...That is what I want...Anyhow you aren't publishing any,' said Anusha.

'But my name isn't there in the novel...,' said Raman.

'How is it possible...?' said Anusha.

'That's also my feeling... My novel... the product of my hard work...is without my name,' said Raman, weeping bitterly for the unexpected turn of events.

Anusha tried to console her husband, but he wept inconsolably:

'Hello! I want to tell you good news.' said Raman to his senior in studies.

'What is that good news...?' said his senior.

'A patron published my novel... My name isn't there in the novel, but my novel is there in every library. He got the manuscript of my novel from the bulk of old newspapers and notebooks sold by my wife to the street hawker who in turn sold them to the merchant, Satish in Bhagya Nagar. He got my manuscript from the bulk of my writings,' said Raman confidently.

'Whose name is there?' said the senior.

'The patron's name, Satish...,' said Raman.

'Why didn't he mention your name...?' said the senior.

'He didn't mention my name as it was not in the manuscript of my novel... I thought of a pen name for my authorship for all my writings like the authors, 'O. Henry', 'Sri Sri' and 'Karunasri'. I didn't finalize any pen name, nor did I mention my name in the manuscript,' said Raman.

'O, you've done a great thing on your part... Great people do great things...Tell me how you claim your authorship... How do you say that it’s your novel...?' said the senior doubtfully.

'Yes, my novel...It's my novel...,' said Raman.

'Where is the proof...You say all things... It's a futile exercise... a cry in wilderness...,' said the senior mockingly.

'It achieved awards...There will be a function in appreciation of the novel...,' said Raman, while his senior was leaving for his world of routines.

Raman expected good advice from his senior library visitor for reading books, but he felt disappointed in his effort. He did not know whom to tell, where to go, what to do, how to achieve his goal. His wife, Anusha consoled him not to feel by saying,

'God is great...God is great...Let's go to Bhagyanagar...Let's catch a train now and attend the function.'

'Okay...Let's test our luck by attending the function...Fortunes turn like a wheel,' said Raman.

~*~

It was Ravindra Bharathi named after the poet of the universe, Rabindranath Tagore. All the literature lovers were present. It was full as many literary gems were present. There were only two seats left vacant in the corner. Raman and his wife Anusha occupied the seats.

There was anchoring going on. The most famous anchor, Suma was there to call the luminaries to the dais and called them. The world-famous novelist presided over the function on invitation to share the dais. Then she called Satish, the patron in the publication of the novel. Raman heard Suma calling the patron's name. He learnt that the patron was present. The function was going on in a befitting manner. A selected few were talking on the novel among the thunderous applause. Raman was listening to them silently with an undiminished charm on his face. Anusha was enjoying her husband Raman's smile all the while.

It was the turn of the patron, Satish to speak, and Suma called him respectfully. He came to the podium. He was to tell all about the novel in detail. He started to speak:

‘I'm Satish... I'm a merchant by profession and lover of literature by predilection... I published the novel as I have respect for literature...

Literature must be there to widen the mental horizon and sharpen the intellect of the people, the reading public...

I don't let literature die...I let it flourish to cherish...

I hope the author is poor...He’s not able to publish it in the age of indifferent attitude towards creative writing. The writer needs to spend like anything, as he's to face financial hurdles in the publication of his creative writings on his own...

I like the novel very much for its content and concept, presentation, and expression, and so on. I can't tell you about the novel in full detail, as I'm not the writer... The only writer can do it better.  Neither a critic nor a reader can tell you about a novel in clear detail. The writer is the authority... I wish that the writer should be here...

I don't know where that great writer is...

If the writer were here, it would be better for all of us to listen to him happily, but he isn't here... I don't know where he is...

I'm here, sir...I'm here, sir...,' said Raman loudly in response to Satish to the surprise of all the members present in the hall.

The writer's sudden appearance silenced all and calmed the hall. There was a pin drop silence. After the silence for a while, all found the writer approaching the dais with all dignity and identity. They started to clap and did so until he reached the podium. There were tears of joy in his eyes while he was approaching the stage. He was on the dais. He started to speak while all were giving a big round of applause.

It's unbelievable...the most unbelievable event in my life...the new sunrise in my life...the most memorable tiding...Life is the wonder of wonders... I never expected to be here...

At the outset, I wholeheartedly thank Mr Satish for the publication of my novel... In this world, I never expected a person to do favor to a financially poor writer like me. I am happy that there are good people in the present society...

My wife who is sitting in the corner sold away my notebook with the manuscript of my novel along with old newspapers...My wife indirectly helped me get my novel published by Satish...It's a blessing in disguise...I ask her to rise from her seat...’

~*~

Raman's wife Anusha stood up with folded hands and humbly greeted all, bowing her head. The president of the function called her to the dais. She came to the dais bowing her head with folded hands. All clapped long once again. She occupied a seat on the dais.  She was in excessive happiness. She had all smiles throughout the function. Then Raman continued to speak:

‘In my town, there are some literature lovers but here there are many... I'm happy to find many people to attend this function...

Life Tides is my novel to hold a mirror to the society today. It deals with the uncertainties, irregularities, inequalities, and injustices that spoil the spectrum of the present society. It's man who plays the role of spoiling the society. Man is the biggest enemy of man today...

In this society, the innocent or the humble are becoming victims. They're facing innumerable problems unexpectedly. In the present society, we don't predict what will happen after one minute. The virtues and values of the innocent and the humble go unrewarded. The innocent and the humble also go unnoticed. We're accepting unhealthy practices and unwelcome trends without expressing our resistances and reluctances...

The hero of the novel Life Tides is principled. He's for the welfare of the people. He sacrifices his life for the sake of the people. They regard him very highly. In spite of his high regard for the people and human relations, a few people evolved a secret plan to murder him. They failed in their brutal attempts to murder him. What was the role of the people when a virtuous man suffered a lot though he wasn't faulty and guilty...?

Life advances in the incessant flow of time, facing hurdles and hazards in the path of life...The hero of the novel faces numerous problems for a long time...The hero with virtues and values will ultimately achieve his goal after all efforts... Life appears a success after a series of failures...

Life is a series of missed opportunities... In time, tides rise and fall in the ocean of life against one's expectations...This is what my novel aims at in telling its readers in quest of a new sunrise...’

~*~

There was a big round of applause for the achievement of the writer. Raman was extremely happy for the opportunity given.

The authorities came forward along with Satish and felicitated Raman as the writer of the novel in a befitting manner for the pleasure of all the members present in the function.