Stolen! (EDITING)

The Big Day!

"Youth conquers the field of writing!"

"The young writer won the hearts of thousands!"

"No more age limits to attain success!"

Each of these lines, were meant to be an appreciation for me. They were printed all through the newspapers and magazines! Number of phone- calls, e-mails, text messages and letters were flowing in, demanding for my reply. I was on the top of the world and my happiness had no boundries.

I had recieved an official invitation to attend a press conference in Delhi. I couldn't resist my smile as I relaxed myself on that comfortable seat of Air India. It was my first flight ever, from Mumbai to Delhi!

As I sipped the tea and inhaled the aroma of the air freshner, I relived all those times when travelling in plane was admired just as a dream and when that desire of mine was expressed in front of my parents it was always discarded with a firm reason of our poor financial state.

It was six months ago, I used to knock on doors of publishers and beg them to atleast go through my manuscript.
but my appearance always played its trick, my shabby outfit and unimpressive foot wear always forced them to conclude that I was a poor non-entity who had popped out of the puddle of illiteracy. Now I know what their bills would read- "Appearances can be deceptive."

And then as the sloppy end of the day  rolled in I would just be left with my hope as a cue for survival. My parents' disappointed and aggressive glares used to invite me in, they used to tell me that I would never get what I wanted because I didn't have the contacts and instead they insisted on marrying me off as fast as they could. As that was the only way they could loosen my responsibility off their shoulders.

They did have a point though because I had denied three jobs for my book and that had made me incapable of feeding my own stomach, let alone theirs. I was dependant on my father's pension for even the basics of my needs. I didn't blame my parents, they were right on their part because the pension which used to arrive every month was not enough for a family of four, where a 25 year old daughter was jobless and a 26 year old son was still trying to get through his bachelor's in engineering.

Fortunately, those days were not destined to last forever. My book was finally accepted by an emerging publishing group named 'Seven Scripts' And it was an Honor to me that they made their debut through my book.

My dreams were pacingly transforming into reality. I sold over 30000 copies in one week. Profits crossed the margins and printers couldn't even get a night off. Soon advertisements went viral and I stood as the youngest writer to have achieved such impressive success.

As soon as I received my first cheque, I did not only pay off the loan which I had taken for my book but I also left my 'maayaka' (parents' house) to marry 'independance'.

My line of thoughts was broken by the announcement -" Welcome to Delhi, passengers please follow the instructions to depart..."

I met the weather of Delhi with an exciting enthusiasm.

But that was cut short. A large crowd of smiling faces, professionals maybe, had come to receive me. I used my modesty as a shield. I was led with handshakes and side-hugs to an expensive looking car. A sweet girl held the door open for me.

She then introduced herself. "Good afternoon mam, I am Neha, Neha Sharma, I will be your personal assisstant throughout your stay in Delhi." She said in a formal rehearsed tone.

She continued "I have a whole list of the events you are going to be attending starting from tonight. Your schedule involves a press conference, a speech at the St. Louis theatre, a personal meeting with some journalists and we end with signing copies at Crossword."

I smiled at her as a reply.

A few minutes later in the car she turned towards me.

"Ma'am, I know I am not allowed to have this conversation with you, but I can't resist it," she said.

"Go on, I won't mind at all." But she still had a wrinkle of worry across her face. "And I will not mention it to your seniors." I added.

"Thank you ma'am, I am 25 years old, just of your age, but I see you as an inspiration. Because all that I achieved till now is to be an assistant to celebrities who choose our organization for programs in Delhi, when I myself want to be one of you people, a significant being."

She said and dulled.

"I get it. I've been in your place. I've had nights when I had wet my pillows with my constant failures. But then I realised, what is life without a purpose of filling that void? The most wonderful and enjoyable part is our journey indeed. Trust me it's really boring to have reached the goal, satisfactory, but boring. So just enjoy the phase you're in and trust me you'll be a celebrity one day and look back to these simpler days." I spoke like a grandma. A cool one though.

She smiled, "No one ever put it that way before." She paused. "So I was right when I saw you faking you're comfort in between those suit guys?"

"Totally" I accepted.

"Wow. I can help you through that situation next time. You'll have me throughout." She seemed excited.

"Great. So a handshake to seal this deal?" I asked childishly.

"You bet." She said and shook my hand.

"Oh by the way. Please just be yourself around me. Secretaries give me the creeps just like those in a couple of horror movies I have seen lately." I said.

"Sure. 'Ma'am'" she said teasingly. And we giggled.

~^~

The evening arrived!

I was suitably dresses for the event. Although I had previously been prepared for facing the camera in a very inadequate appearance because of my lack of practice in being presentable. Some people might say that girls are born with it, but I beg to differ. I would always prefer comprehending a passage on the most boring topic than sit in front of a mirror trying to draw an unshabby outline to my eye.

But Neha never left my side. I could see her getting involved in helping me out. She excelled in hospitality. And in her I could reside all my anxiety and excitement as a teenage girlfriend. We picked a formal dress for all the events, she shared her make up kit with me (including her skill to apply it) and to be honest she saved me from my worst nightmare of giving an inappropriate first impression to the audience.

The formal scent of the room made me even more nervous. A loud applause synced with my footsteps while I climbed the stage. I could not have been more uncomfortable in my life. I took my seat on a cosy chair kept in the centre of the platform and adjusted my eyes to the flashlight. Having seated well in my seat the journalists started shooting questions. All I could think before my first answer is that I had not signed for this nervousness when I decided to be successful.

"Good evening mam, may I know who or what was your inspiration for writing this book at such an early age?" This was the first question. It was so typical that I had it by heart.

"I consider 'writing' as an art of expressing, which isn't bound to age limits. I recieved my inspiration from each and every writer who had given a try at writing. Using words as carriers of feelings and moulding them with ink to reach not only the eyes but also the heart of the reader is not a talent everyone is equipped with. But everyone has a story, we all living with one right now. Luckily I had both, skill and a story. Now coming back to your question, what is it that we all strive for?  We all want to be contented. So I questioned myself, 'what satisfies me' and I got my answer. It's the book you have in your hand today. Summing up, my urge to pacify myself was my inspiration."

The journalist seemed pretty impressed. But I could not celebrate my first answer for the whole load of them came rushing in.

The evening was a bliss. I tasted the fruit of my hard work. I couldn't have thought of a single wish if I had spotted a shooting star. I had everything I needed. Everything.

Little did I know what was coming up.