He had one final look at his work.
The ending was perfect. The beginning was perfect. Yes. The pace slackened a bit in middle, but it was acceptable. A handful of people may not like it. He couldn't please all. But he was sure that he would please most of the people, the ones who mattered. Above all, the work would impress him. He had surpassed his own expectations. He had read the final draft for the 27th time by now. It was perfect.
Next day he would contact the publishers. He was sure that nobody would refuse. They would lap up his work and offer him some handsome sum of money. Probably much more than any of the first time writers could ever dream of, at an age of 29. That would bring it all - name, fame, recognition, money ... everything!
He was destined for greatness, as a part of the title suggested. Maybe in a year ... or two years at max, the world will recognize his greatness. Maybe, that would be fitting reply to the world which had branded him as a insecure, reclusive, whimsical, insensitive, abnormal and an anti-social being. The same world which did not give him due recognition when he excelled in his work, which refused to give him a chance to explain why he did not get along well with few people whom he was supposed to get along, the society which dismissed his writing as an aberration to the societal norms ...
Suddenly, the door bell rang.
"What the hell! I have been waiting for you since last two hours. Where the hell is your cellphone. It was saying it is switched off. Why did you switch it off? You were supposed to meet me at the Mall two hours ago. Now don't say that you forgot. This is not the first time you are doing it? You did it last time too. And a many times before that also. I am now damn sure that you don't love me. You are so cold and indifferent to me. I have been as if dumped upon you I feel by this society and its norms. Else you wouldn't treat me like fuckin' dirt. Time and time again you have given me a feeling that I am dirt but I am not going to take it any more ... "
"I don't want to hear any explanations from you. I have given you many chances. You have lost your chance to explain. Now it is the time for me to act. And ..."
There was more to say, but she stopped
Saying this his fiancée slammed the door that created noise of a canon being fired, and left that place.
He was left with a mixture of emotions - sadness of she having left him, guilt of being responsible for all these and happiness of being a free bird once again.
He picked up the manuscript lying somewhere around, picked up his phone and called the first among the many publishers he wanted to contact. While the phone on the other side was ringing endlessly, he glanced at the last line of his 'masterpiece' - Destined for greatness but struggling with basics.
He smiled and disconnected the line. Maybe, he will polish his script a bit and then make a call.
The ending was perfect. The beginning was perfect. Yes. The pace slackened a bit in middle, but it was acceptable. A handful of people may not like it. He couldn't please all. But he was sure that he would please most of the people, the ones who mattered. Above all, the work would impress him. He had surpassed his own expectations. He had read the final draft for the 27th time by now. It was perfect.
Next day he would contact the publishers. He was sure that nobody would refuse. They would lap up his work and offer him some handsome sum of money. Probably much more than any of the first time writers could ever dream of, at an age of 29. That would bring it all - name, fame, recognition, money ... everything!
He was destined for greatness, as a part of the title suggested. Maybe in a year ... or two years at max, the world will recognize his greatness. Maybe, that would be fitting reply to the world which had branded him as a insecure, reclusive, whimsical, insensitive, abnormal and an anti-social being. The same world which did not give him due recognition when he excelled in his work, which refused to give him a chance to explain why he did not get along well with few people whom he was supposed to get along, the society which dismissed his writing as an aberration to the societal norms ...
Suddenly, the door bell rang.
"What the hell! I have been waiting for you since last two hours. Where the hell is your cellphone. It was saying it is switched off. Why did you switch it off? You were supposed to meet me at the Mall two hours ago. Now don't say that you forgot. This is not the first time you are doing it? You did it last time too. And a many times before that also. I am now damn sure that you don't love me. You are so cold and indifferent to me. I have been as if dumped upon you I feel by this society and its norms. Else you wouldn't treat me like fuckin' dirt. Time and time again you have given me a feeling that I am dirt but I am not going to take it any more ... "
"I don't want to hear any explanations from you. I have given you many chances. You have lost your chance to explain. Now it is the time for me to act. And ..."
There was more to say, but she stopped
Saying this his fiancée slammed the door that created noise of a canon being fired, and left that place.
He was left with a mixture of emotions - sadness of she having left him, guilt of being responsible for all these and happiness of being a free bird once again.
He picked up the manuscript lying somewhere around, picked up his phone and called the first among the many publishers he wanted to contact. While the phone on the other side was ringing endlessly, he glanced at the last line of his 'masterpiece' - Destined for greatness but struggling with basics.
He smiled and disconnected the line. Maybe, he will polish his script a bit and then make a call.
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