He's breaking into my thoughts. This isn't a coincidence, no ! This has happened for the third time now. Isn't it me who's supposed to be the master ? Why is he coercing me, to change things ? I DECIDE, its always going to be that way. I may pick up a story, i may finish it. I might not finish it !! Who cares ??? As long as the finished product doesn't make it to the book stands. Yes, I write, i write for a living, not exactly though. I am successful, my reputation precedes me. I cant make this vagabond win. No it cant happen. Doesn't it become all cliché ? I WILL let satire rule here. People need to read a definitive ending. Hell, they would want him to die.
Masterpieces get created that way. They appeal to our inner demons, and the conscience makes way for emotions to be chucked out and pathos makes the judgement, deep, underlying and ever lasting. What is stopping me then?
I am not revising the book again, not for the 16th time, no, i am not !! I am not trying to roughen up the edges here. I am not trying to eliminate the similarities Aditya bears with my past life. They just HAPPEN to be that way. Well, why am i aching then ? Why do i want to give this sonofabitch all that he deserves? All that maybe at a point i thought i deserved ? Fellow sympathy?? Compassion ?? Towards a fictional character ? For God's sake Soumya, he is your creation !!! Deal with him in the manner he will benefit YOU the most. You have already thought of his end. Whats stopping you ? Are you trying to play God here ? Raise, fulfill, nurture and cherish ? eh, is that it?? You are a WRITER !!!
He is influencing my judgement. This is my 7th sleepless night. Every time i close my eyes, i see the bright young bastard, hopelessly in love, aimless, free riding from unknown destinations without a worry in his heart. I will not retrospect, no i wont. I wont think about the resemblance, i will not ponder on what went through my mind when i actually created him on paper.
You will die, a death of glory Aditya. Forgive me, forgive my jealousy. I am mortal. By killing you, i fulfill several of my desires, my dreams of accolades, my craving for recognition, but most importantly I satisfy my inner demon. A demon which was an Angel, 18 years ago, and got transformed in the influence of several potions of tragedy innumerable pangs of loss and countless disappointments.
I am sorry my friend of 11 months. We met on paper, but this bond is unexplainable. I might not get convicted by this act of mine, but i know deep within i have sinned, and this shall stay.........
This is so very familiar for a writer,for someone who writes.
ReplyDeleteBreath-gaping slow and the restlessness of the frames of mind that write the story and those that deal with the outcome of the writing.
its a wonderful conversation with oneself.
cheers!