STORY-DEAR

STORY-DEAR

I was sitting in a chair in the Bank, waiting for my number, to present my cheque. It was the last money I had and I was really worried. My printer told me, my books are ready. I will have to give him five thousand rupees, to square our account; leaving me just one thousand in my pocket. Once, I get the books, I shall begin selling my own books and earn enough for my daily life.

Immersed in my worrying thoughts, I did not realize that a lady in black veil, is standing so near, that her fragrance awaked me, from my thoughts.

“Are you not Shyam, the writer? I have read your stories and liked them. May I take your photo?” Without waiting for my reply, she clicked the mobile phone and showed me. I saw a bearded, middle aged man, with shabby hair and piercing gaze. “Am I so unpleasant to look at?”

My token number was announced and I got up and presented my cheque. “Hundred rupees change and the rest in hundred rupee notes”, I told. When I came back, the lady was sitting in the chair, next to mine. I counted the cash and then turned to her:”What can I do for you, Madam?” “I want to talk to you, dear.” The word ‘dear’ had an electrifying effect. So far, none has addressed me so. I looked up, but could not make out anything, as she was covered in black cloth. I said:”Right now, I am going to my printer, to hand over the money for my books. After that you may come to my home. “Where is your house? Or, I may take you in my car.” At least, I can save auto charge; so I agreed. First we went to the printer and gave him 5000; he handed over the books, in ten packets of 100 each . The lady helped the printer, in carrying them to the car. After placing them in the back seat, we went home, myself showing the way. Then she opened her mouth:”Without your permission, I translated some of your short stories into Urdu and these were published in magazines. I now apologize”

I looked at her:”How can I talk to a black veil? Let me see you first.” She laughed:”Let us first go to your house.”

When we reached home, the girl who looks after the house, came and assisted in placing the books in proper order.  I told her to make tea.

I was then, that she removed the obnoxious black thing. Oh, what a change! She looks hardly twenty and extremely beautiful. Her tight fitting modern cloths were in contrast to her veil.”Why do you wear the veil?” I asked.

“Because you men are brutes; you will eat us alive. The best protection is the black cloth.” I looked sheepish.

“Where are your wife and parents?”

“I am unmarried My mother, I do not remember. Father brought me up and gave me good education. He was a petty shop keeper. He wanted me to join Government service. I told him, I want to be a writer and he agreed. He loved me so much but died of illness. It broke my heart.” She gently touched my arm and expressed her grief.

“Why didn’t you marry?” “I earn a little from books. It is not enough for a living. Then, if the wife is against my writing books, she will always grumble about poverty. What about you?”

“I am married. My man is in the gulf. He wants me to come there; but I love Keralam, more than love him. Our tastes are different. Is not Shyam a pen name?”

“I am Abu.” “What a surprise ! From your writings, no one can find out.”

“I have read all Hindu puranas. I like their Devi cult. For Hindus, MOTHER is a goddess.”

We talked about many things. While going, she bought 500 books and gave me the printed cost. She took me to her house and showed me her writings, in Urdu, including my stories translated by her. She promised me, to get my books, including a number of novels published in Urdu, which is very popular in the North.

Our friendship continued for a long time. I began to get substantial royalty from Urdu books. Slowly, publishers came forward in Malayalam too.

After a lot of discussions, we decided to marry.