Chapter 4

                                       CHAPTER 4

Presently, she picked the water bottle from the bag. She took it close to her mouth. When she was about to sip it, the bus jerked violently. She lost her grip over the bottle. The water in the bottle spilled on the man who was sitting in front of us and I sensed the coming of a catastrophe.

I caught my breath. The man turned to face us.His hair was drenched in water and his shirt was wet too. His close-cropped hair, his handlebar moustache and above all, his stern look made me suspect that he was a policeman. Oh! I am afraid of policemen. I twisted my engagement ring, nervously. I know I had to apologise, but I couldn't find my voice.

"I'm s-sorry", said Aadhya. Now his eyes fell upon her. His frown instantly turned into a pleasant smile. However, I heard him muttering something angrily.I guess I was right about him being a policeman.Anyway, how I can expect a man to be calm, when a bottle fully filled with water is emptied on his head?

My thoughts lingered upon the book that I am writing now-The Sinner's future. So far, I had written four books. None yielded tremendous results, but miraculously enough, I could bounce back and begin to write the next book with unfaltering hope. What is discouraging is that my publisher doesn't possess such an attitude as mine.

Many a time, he had critized my style of writing and had also bluntly suggested me to take up some another job. But, poor man, he is bound to publish all my books because he owes a lot to my father.
  

I'm glad that I'm able to focus more on my books now.When I was working as a banker, whenever I sat down to write, only the images of the huge depositors would pop up in my head.

I quitted my bank job when I was pregnant. I decided to take up writing as a profession. People thought I was insane when I forsake my job in a nationalised bank, but in my heart I knew that it was the right decision. I always felt that I was not destined for a nine to five job. Moreover, I realised that Aadhya would need me more than the higher officials in my bank.

My passion for writing can be traced back to my school days.I used to write short stories for my school magazine. One particular story became a huge hit among my friends. Gradually, even the school management began to like my stories. At one point of time, I became quite popular in my school. I kept wondering if I would ever able to measure the amount of jealousy seeping into Shalini's heart. But, one day, I came to know that I was totally wrong about Shalini's feelings.

The memory of that day still lies in my mind as fresh as a dew drop on a new blossomed flower. That day, I was sitting in the canteen on my favourite bench. I was relishing every sip of my tea, and was trying to decide whether the canteen tea better than my Mom's. These thoughts hurried themselves out of my mind  when I saw Shalini enter the canteen. She was approaching towards me. I gripped  the cup as if it was a shield. My heart was beating so fast that I thought it would burst the next moment. As she came closer, I noticed that she was twisting her lips in an awkward manner. It looked as though she couldn't decide whether to smile or not.

She sat opposite to me.

"Could you do me a favour?", she spoke in a voice little louder than a whisper.

I choked over my tea. Man, I wasn't expecting this sort of a thing from my all-time rival.

I nodded my head vigorously in response.

"I've story in my mind, can you write it for me?", she asked.

I didn't think twice. I would've said a loud, confident 'yes' if I was not gulping down my tea. I could only manage to nod my head.She was not pleased with my response.

However she continued, "I shall just tell the gist of the story today."

And she began the gist. It was difficult to concentrate; I needed more time to recover from the shock. I found it more easier to observe the beauty of her sparkling eyes and sharp features. She did look beautiful, graciously beautiful.

She left the canteen after five minutes. I couldn't help feeling guilty over the conversation. I didn't speak a word. I decided to smile a little, speak more and nod every now and then, the next time.

There was one question in  the corner of my mind, that kept troubling me all through the evening -"Why was I trying so hard to impress her, if she was only my rival?"

Poem

The Castle

Just another stone, just another stone,

I whispered in my weak, hoarse voice

I should just place another stone over the top,

to watch my castle kiss the sky.

The memory of the day when I placed the first stone lies in my heart,

as fresh as a dew drop on a leaf.

Now, here I am, nearly a year after,

weak and fragile,

having lost all my power and beauty in building the castle.

I slowly climbed the castle with all the strength I had,

to place the lost stone.

Oh! what a misfortune!

A lightning struck my big, beautiful castle.

My heart broke into pieces while I saw the castle tumble down,

My soul was at pain,

The pain felt by the nightingale that has lost its voice,

The pain felt by the king who has lost his heir,

Tears rolled down my cheeks,

blood poured out from my limbs.

I made no attempt to stop neither the tears nor the blood.

I cried and cried and cried,

over the ruins of the once huge, mighty castle

After a while, I stood up,

I took hold of a huge stone and set it firmly on the ground,

with the hope of building a castle again

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Every wound is healed,

every tear is wiped,

every prayer is heard

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