He brooded for a while after the phone call, it was a blow, like a disappointment that you fear is likely to come, yet there's little hope, and it comes anyway. He was a writer. He didn't make a big living out of it, but he survived. He used to write under the pen-name 'the freeman' for a weekly magazine but that was shut down owing to insufficient turnover. So, now he wanted to publish his works, and had met with umpteen publishers and all turned him down. There was this one guy from a certain publishing house that seemed a trifle interested, but now the news from the phone call is that he couldn't convince the board to approve it and that he was sorry.
He felt numb, he was too disappointed to feel disappointed. He had crossed the point to feel sad or angry or hurt. All that he felt now was emptiness. He used to be a believer, a lover of life and he always believed that no good or bad lasts forever and that change will always come. This thought drove him to enjoy both joy and sorrow, which in turn made him write. He wrote about poverty mainly, about the strength and determination of the poor and how they strive to live, pushing through the obstacles of life and yet how they also find happiness in their way, and how when they look back in retrospect feel the completeness of a life thoroughly lived. He now had nothing to believe in and there seemed no hope or it seemed too far away, out of sight, the phone call came as the last straw. He could have broken down into tears for a word of comfort or sympathy from someone but there was no one for him. He could have cried just to feel better but instead he decided to die.
He decided that, not because he was a coward or because he's given up, he felt that he had nothing to give up, he felt, an obstacle or a problem he can overcome but not the nothingness. He planned to take sleeping pills, one by one, leaving a gap between each, so that he could first fall asleep and die in his sleep, without feeling any pain. So, he kept the pills ready in front of him, he felt no fear or agitation at the thought of dying. He swallowed a pill and waited for it to take effect. He waited patiently, he felt no signs of drowsiness after he waited for about half hour and he took another pill. He still waited when the door bell rang. He answered it, it was a sales guy peddling dictionaries and encyclopedias. He usually never entertained any sales guy, but today was a little unusual as he was going to die. So he let him in, talking with him might put him to sleep, he thought.
"Hallo sir, how are you today?"
"Well, i was about to die"
"Ha ha, funny. Now sir, what i got here are some of the most useful books ever published, and good ones like these are hard to come by at the shops and even if you do the prices are way too high, but that's alright sir because today is your lucky day as there's a huge discount on the already humble price and on every single book it is"
"How much for the encyclopedia?" the writer said
"Well sir, i invite you to have a look first because .."
"How much?" the writer interrupted tersely
"500 rupees sir"
"And the dictionary?"
"300, sir, for the big one and there are small ones too"
"I'll buy two in each, the encyclopedia and the dictionary, the big ones"
"Very good sir, it's a very neat idea to gift these to a friend sir"
"Just leave them on the table, I'll go bring the money" he disappeared into a room. He went to get the last of the little money he had saved in the past. He is not going to need them where he's going to go. When he came back the sales guy was curiously looking into the bookshelf and the writer said
"Here's your money, you can leave now"
The sales boy seemed absorbed into the bookshelf and the writer said
"Your money's here"
The boy turned and said "Yes, of course sir, nice books you have got there sir, and of course a collection of 'The Peasant', you must have been a subscriber"
"No, i used to get those copies for free, i used to write for it"
"Oh, interesting, what did you write sir? It's a shame though they had to close down, i was a fan and it still kills me to think that i couldn't read the end of 'Heaven is here', what a tale?, you've ever read it sir?"
"No, not really, but i wrote it"
"You got to be kidding sir, you didn't write it?" said the boy in disbelief
"I'm afraid i did"
"You couldn't possibly be 'The freeman', he must be a lot richer than you are"
"Well, i don't know what to say to that, but i happen to be 'the freeman' when i write" the writer said
"That's the biggest surprise I've ever known, it's a privilege to be talking to you sir. You don't happen to have the last episodes of 'Heaven is here' by any chance do you?" he said looking excited
"Well, i do I'm afraid, I've got the manuscript, not very legible though" he pulled out a bunch of papers from the shelf and said "You can go through it if you like, here and do take a seat"
"That's an honour Mr. Freeman, thank you, this turns out to be my jackpot day" saying that he sat down and started reading it. The writer waited patiently for the guy to finish it. The boy looked engrossed in the story. He didn't blink an eye before he read the end of the story. He then looked up at the writer looking ecstatic like his dream had come true and said
"So the depression ends, What a fabulous ending, couldn't have been any better, it was terrific sir"
"Thank you, i'm glad you liked it" said the writer and he meant it
Then, the guy told about himself, he was a student and his salesman job was part-time. It turns out he was a small time writer, and he'd written essays and short stories for his college magazine. They spoke for a while about themselves and the rest. Then the boy realized he had to go and said
"I guess i should go now sir, a lot more houses to do before i can head home"
"yes, yes, of course" said the writer
"So will that be all sir? 2 copies of each"
"Ah, well, let me think now, i won't need any to tell the truth but i'll buy one copy each though" said the writer with a smile
"Whatever you like sir"
The boy bid farewell to the writer after thanking him and all that. The boy paused for a moment at the door and turned to the writer and said
"Would you like to get a drink this weekend sir, it will be on me. I figure that's the least i could do, you see"
The writer thought for a second and said "yes, of course, why not"
And later that night the writer slept really well.
He felt numb, he was too disappointed to feel disappointed. He had crossed the point to feel sad or angry or hurt. All that he felt now was emptiness. He used to be a believer, a lover of life and he always believed that no good or bad lasts forever and that change will always come. This thought drove him to enjoy both joy and sorrow, which in turn made him write. He wrote about poverty mainly, about the strength and determination of the poor and how they strive to live, pushing through the obstacles of life and yet how they also find happiness in their way, and how when they look back in retrospect feel the completeness of a life thoroughly lived. He now had nothing to believe in and there seemed no hope or it seemed too far away, out of sight, the phone call came as the last straw. He could have broken down into tears for a word of comfort or sympathy from someone but there was no one for him. He could have cried just to feel better but instead he decided to die.
He decided that, not because he was a coward or because he's given up, he felt that he had nothing to give up, he felt, an obstacle or a problem he can overcome but not the nothingness. He planned to take sleeping pills, one by one, leaving a gap between each, so that he could first fall asleep and die in his sleep, without feeling any pain. So, he kept the pills ready in front of him, he felt no fear or agitation at the thought of dying. He swallowed a pill and waited for it to take effect. He waited patiently, he felt no signs of drowsiness after he waited for about half hour and he took another pill. He still waited when the door bell rang. He answered it, it was a sales guy peddling dictionaries and encyclopedias. He usually never entertained any sales guy, but today was a little unusual as he was going to die. So he let him in, talking with him might put him to sleep, he thought.
"Hallo sir, how are you today?"
"Well, i was about to die"
"Ha ha, funny. Now sir, what i got here are some of the most useful books ever published, and good ones like these are hard to come by at the shops and even if you do the prices are way too high, but that's alright sir because today is your lucky day as there's a huge discount on the already humble price and on every single book it is"
"How much for the encyclopedia?" the writer said
"Well sir, i invite you to have a look first because .."
"How much?" the writer interrupted tersely
"500 rupees sir"
"And the dictionary?"
"300, sir, for the big one and there are small ones too"
"I'll buy two in each, the encyclopedia and the dictionary, the big ones"
"Very good sir, it's a very neat idea to gift these to a friend sir"
"Just leave them on the table, I'll go bring the money" he disappeared into a room. He went to get the last of the little money he had saved in the past. He is not going to need them where he's going to go. When he came back the sales guy was curiously looking into the bookshelf and the writer said
"Here's your money, you can leave now"
The sales boy seemed absorbed into the bookshelf and the writer said
"Your money's here"
The boy turned and said "Yes, of course sir, nice books you have got there sir, and of course a collection of 'The Peasant', you must have been a subscriber"
"No, i used to get those copies for free, i used to write for it"
"Oh, interesting, what did you write sir? It's a shame though they had to close down, i was a fan and it still kills me to think that i couldn't read the end of 'Heaven is here', what a tale?, you've ever read it sir?"
"No, not really, but i wrote it"
"You got to be kidding sir, you didn't write it?" said the boy in disbelief
"I'm afraid i did"
"You couldn't possibly be 'The freeman', he must be a lot richer than you are"
"Well, i don't know what to say to that, but i happen to be 'the freeman' when i write" the writer said
"That's the biggest surprise I've ever known, it's a privilege to be talking to you sir. You don't happen to have the last episodes of 'Heaven is here' by any chance do you?" he said looking excited
"Well, i do I'm afraid, I've got the manuscript, not very legible though" he pulled out a bunch of papers from the shelf and said "You can go through it if you like, here and do take a seat"
"That's an honour Mr. Freeman, thank you, this turns out to be my jackpot day" saying that he sat down and started reading it. The writer waited patiently for the guy to finish it. The boy looked engrossed in the story. He didn't blink an eye before he read the end of the story. He then looked up at the writer looking ecstatic like his dream had come true and said
"So the depression ends, What a fabulous ending, couldn't have been any better, it was terrific sir"
"Thank you, i'm glad you liked it" said the writer and he meant it
Then, the guy told about himself, he was a student and his salesman job was part-time. It turns out he was a small time writer, and he'd written essays and short stories for his college magazine. They spoke for a while about themselves and the rest. Then the boy realized he had to go and said
"I guess i should go now sir, a lot more houses to do before i can head home"
"yes, yes, of course" said the writer
"So will that be all sir? 2 copies of each"
"Ah, well, let me think now, i won't need any to tell the truth but i'll buy one copy each though" said the writer with a smile
"Whatever you like sir"
The boy bid farewell to the writer after thanking him and all that. The boy paused for a moment at the door and turned to the writer and said
"Would you like to get a drink this weekend sir, it will be on me. I figure that's the least i could do, you see"
The writer thought for a second and said "yes, of course, why not"
And later that night the writer slept really well.
3 comments:
Not bad at all. Though you'll have to pay attention to the punctuation.
Why the title, "The always useful pouch"?
PS: The word verification for this comment was drugs!
Intriguing!
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