STORY-WRITER

STORY-WRITER Mother used to read the books of a Malayalam writer. Whenever I look at the books, she would say it is not for children, though I was sixteen. As I could not read Malayalam, I took it to m friend and told her to read it. It was sexy and I enjoyed it. I began to learn Malayalam letters, 52 in number, each sound having one letter. I learned it in no time and read almost all books in my mother’s cupboard, secretly. Then I wanted to know, who the person is, that wrote the stories. Obviously he must be using pen names, to escape from public outcry. The publisher too, remained mum. I used to attend lectures of a bearded gentleman, which was witty and I liked it. But he would leave immediately afterwards in his car. One day, I forcibly entered through the crowd and reached him, before he reached his car” Who are you, my beautiful daughter?”, he asked me and I told him I am the daughter of Narasimhan, senior lecturer. “Come in the car, ” he said and started the car, as soon as I took my seat. “You know I do not like to mix with the public. I like to remain anonymous. What can I do for you?” “Nothing. I just wanted to know you.” “I do not know myself. If you know yourself, you know Brahma.” “What is your father’s name, your village where you were born, your school, college etc.” “This world is my village and school and college, all. I don’t know my father and mother.” By this time we reached his home. “Would you like to see my home? Then come in”. It was an ordinary house. He opened the door, switched on the lights and told me to sit . “You like tea or coffee?” I too went into the kitchen. There was an electric stove, two or three aluminium vessels and some steel glasses. I washed a small vessel and filled it with two glass of water and put it on the stove; he switched it on. “Where is milk and sugar?” He made tea. While we sipped tea he told me he was brought in an a home for children. Near Ranchi. “The person in charge was a Malayalee and he taught me that language, in addition to Hindi and English. The school attached to our home had a very good library. I became friends with Malayalees in the city, when I grew up and we all decided to come to Keralam. I do not know whether I am Hindu or Christian.” All this while, I tidied up the kitchen and the two rooms and scrubbed the floor. I told him to show me the soiled cloths. “The washer man will do it. Thank you my daughter.” “On the other hand, I thank you for all this information; I shall respect your sentiments and keep mum about you. Can I see the books you have written?” “Who told you I have written books?” “It was just a guess. A person with so much experience, is likely to write about it” He laughed and showed his library, Wher ether was a good collection of books, both English and Malayalam. I took one by Bashir and bid him good bye. He dropped me in my home, but refused to come inside. It was already ten and I took my meal and went to bed. I could not sleep. I was almost sure he is the author of the books I liked. WRITER I was sure that he is the writer of short stories, which I liked so much. So called him on my mobile and explained. “Sir, Yesterday it was too late. So I could not entertain you. Could you kindly come here now. My mother is eager to meet you.” He agreed and in half an hour, I saw him approaching the gate. I ushered him in and introduced him to her. “This is the person who used to speak in the auditorium at Trichur. Today I called him to meet you” He said:”Namasthe. I am glad to met you. Your daughter came to my home yesterday. I liked her.” WE talked for some time and he was about to go, when I too offered to come with him. The house was in a shabby condition and I cleaned the rooms and put things in proper place. He was always with me and he told me about his past. “I was in an asylum for the abandoned children in Bihar. As I grew up I came across boys from Kerala and we decided to run away and come to Kerala, because the manager of the asylum had told me I am a keralite.” “How did you start writing?” “I was with Bashir, for some time and his style I liked. It is common man’s language. I had see3n the world and learned a lot about human nature. Writing came easily .” “Why do you remain anonymous?” “If the media comes to know of me, they will parade me naked in the streets.” I began going there every Sunday. Slowly I began loving him. I deliberately provoked him by exposing my breasts and placing his hand on them. ….I found him quite young and strong in this field. I took down all details and wrote a biography MY STORYBY “Kaliyan” After graduation, I became a free lance writer. WRITER I was sure that he is the writer of short stories, which I liked so much. So called him on my mobile and explained. “Sir, Yesterday it was too late. So I could not entertain you. Could you kindly come here now. My mother is eager to meet you.” He agreed and in half an hour, I saw him approaching the gate. I ushered him in and introduced him to her. “This is the person who used to speak in the auditorium at Trichur. Today I called him to meet you” He said:”Namasthe. I am glad to met you. Your daughter came to my home yesterday. I liked her.” WE talked for some time and he was about to go, when I too offered to come with him. The house was in a shabby condition and I cleaned the rooms and put things in proper place. He was always with me and he told me about his past. “I was in an asylum for the abandoned children in Bihar. As I grew up I came across boys from Kerala and we decided to run away and come to Kerala, because the manager of the asylum had told me I am a keralite.” “How did you start writing?” “I was with Bashir, for some time and his style I liked. It is common man’s language. I had see3n the world and learned a lot about human nature. Writing came easily .” “Why do you remain anonymous?” “If the media comes to know of me, they will parade me naked in the streets.” I began going there every Sunday. Slowly I began loving him. I deliberately provoked him by exposing my breasts and placing his hand on them. ….I found him quite young and strong in this field. I took down all details and wrote a biography MY STORYBY “Kaliyan” After graduation, I became a free lance writer. WRITER I was sure that he is the writer of short stories, which I liked so much. So called him on my mobile and explained. “Sir, Yesterday it was too late. So I could not entertain you. Could you kindly come here now. My mother is eager to meet you.” He agreed and in half an hour, I saw him approaching the gate. I ushered him in and introduced him to her. “This is the person who used to speak in the auditorium at Trichur. Today I called him to meet you” He said:”Namasthe. I am glad to met you. Your daughter came to my home yesterday. I liked her.” WE talked for some time and he was about to go, when I too offered to come with him. The house was in a shabby condition and I cleaned the rooms and put things in proper place. He was always with me and he told me about his past. “I was in an asylum for the abandoned children in Bihar. As I grew up I came across boys from Kerala and we decided to run away and come to Kerala, because the manager of the asylum had told me I am a keralite.” “How did you start writing?” “I was with Bashir, for some time and his style I liked. It is common man’s language. I had see3n the world and learned a lot about human nature. Writing came easily .” “Why do you remain anonymous?” “If the media comes to know of me, they will parade me naked in the streets.”