Champak Champak!

Whenever I get on with a book, I have the habit of doing a little research about the author on Google/ Wikipedia. The author's background, childhood, growing up years and education interest me no end. The ups and downs of the writer's life give me food for thought and this way I enjoy the book all the more. May be it's about getting familiar with the life and times in which the book was written. 

Today I was starting with Catch-22 - an e-book version given to me by a good friend of mine. I hadn't even begin with the second page that I felt the urge to know more about its author- Joseph Heller. Among many other things about the author, it also was said that while in his teenage he had written a short story and sent it to New York Daily News, which never got published.

This little anecdote from his life took me back to an anecdote from mine. It was around about the time when I was eleven-years old. I am still retrieving my memory as I type. And its making me smile! Feels like I'm travelling in time! So here's how the recollection goes: When young I used to be all gung-ho about story books - in Hindi/English both. I had a huge collection of Champaks, Nandans, Suman-Saurabhs, Nanhe-Samrats etc etc. And this was before I was introduced to the world of proper books.. except of course Enid Blyton. So, well, I loved reading these children-books, specially Champak! I loved reading it more than I loved cycling in rain, I loved it more than my favourite dish or anything a 5th class girl loves to do! I used to hop on my little cycle and do the rounds of the bookstall even before the chappie had laid out the books and magazines. I am sure that he was positively sick of me, the guy.. and considered me demented! Because though I gave him good business but I was always inquiring whether the newer edition of so & so book/magazine has arrived and the looks he gave smacked of pure exasperation! Every week without fail I used to chance upon some money and buy those kiddo books.. (i never called them comics.. those were proper short-story books, so what if they didn't have a hardcover!) I still don't know how I got the monies..I never remember my parents buying me those fortnightly mags. Though I do remember stashing them away in the cupboard so they don't stumble upon my treasure trove! So, well a little from the drawer, a little from the balance left from grocery shopping and my book-money was secure.. a copy of Champak used to cost Rs. 7 and later Rs.10...the price of other such mags was reciprocal.

So, one fine day, I got up and arrived at the conclusion that I was to write a story and as soon as that was done, I was to send it to a writing competition that was being organised by Champak -- which predominantly carried moralistic tales about protagonists the likes of Pintu, the monkey and Chintu, the rabbit..et al! 

So well, I drafted my story with much deliberation. It had a 'something for everyone' style I thought would enhance my prospects of getting selected! It had an innate twist that my little mind of eleven could foster. And not to mention, it had humans in it, thankfully! It was about how on the festival of Holi a little boy - my hero- saved the day by showing courage and wisdom - how he gallantly fought with my villains - the terrorists- and like an ace champion emerged victorious! Hurrah :P

So well.. I jotted down the story on few sheets of my notebook one evening. Feeling rather smug at the thought of my accomplishment-to-be, I reached my school the next morning. But I was afraid that my dear story would get rejected for the mere fact that my handwriting was nowhere short of being neat, in fact to some it could seem horrible! So I got hold of a friend of mine, whose handwriting I liked best, and begged her to write it down for me. I gave her brand-new sheets out of my practical-file to carry out the favour. Like a goooood friend she wrote it down (thanks, charu!) and next day handed it back. I don't really recall posting it but I think I did send it because I remember being ever-so-eager to buy the next issue of Champak.

:( Alas! My story did not win the competition! Someone else's story about a monkey did. :P

:( And the author's name did not even suggest it was written by someone my age! Not fair, my heart revolted! I was sad but it must have lasted ten minutes. :)

Ye Lo

Dear Diary,

I got up late. Had a glass of water. Read a few papers. And there I was studying away to a good mood. But then I stopped. Like a zombie I roamed around the house. Like a zombie I sprawled on the bed staring at the nothingness above me. I finally got hungry. Feeling little happy about the hunger I went downstairs and had a sandwich. Came up and the zombieness continued. I bathed panther thinking he deserves a bath in this horrid summer heat. I thought something worthwhile, to remember the day by. And then I slept. Until disturbed by the workmen's plans to cut in a part of the wall and slash out some space for god knows which wires. I got up and I went downstairs to watch television—the dumbest thing on earth unless of course if FRIENDS or a similar show is  on. So then I watched some tv and here I am all ready to study. But I thought how about something to write. So though I admit it is in an effort to postpone the study routine that I am typing away this nonsense.

Ok..enough of lazing around. Study girl, study.

Lifting of the Writer's Block

Something is the matter with me. Otherwise why would I not write for so long? A feeling so unfamiliar would keep haunting me, fighting within me. Every time I would decide to write something I would be held back. Writer's block perhaps. This is an effort to lift the blockade.

Words are magical when inscribed. Their magic should never subside.

I write the most when emotions overpower me. I find solace in words and peace in venting. But I would not let the emotions flow..I would not let myself tread even near the gulf of desire and wanting. I am somewhere in between. Halfway to where I belong. But nothing should beat me, halt me, stop me.

Love to all
N