[ Written for the event 'Glitters of Diwali - November 2023' hosted by AmbassadorsIN ]

[ Chosen prompt :

Prompt 3 —

"Soan Papdi is a given in Diwali but who knew that a box of Soan Papdi from an unexpected person was all that you needed to bring back the light on your face." ]

-------✒️✒️✒️✒️✒️✒️ ✒️ ✒️ ✒️✒️✒️--------

I was sitting at the table and chewing my pen. I took the pen out of my mouth and observed it carefully. No, I am not a philosopher. I just like to waste my time. I keep procrastinating and then keep cursing myself for doing that at the same time.

It had been three months. I had to write a new play for the theatre. Trust me, it is an exhausting job. I was playing with the pen in my hand when I heard a sound.

"You're my pumpkin pumpkin,
Hello honey bunny
I am your dumpling dumpling,
Hello honey bunny
Feeling something something,
Hello honey bunny honey bunny toko toko
You're my pumkin pumpkin,
Hello honey bunny......"

It was my phone's ringtone. You might recall singing this song a few years ago when there were advertisements of 'Idea network' on the idiot box.

I don't use an Idea sim card but still, I had that song as my phone's ringtone. You might wonder, "Is that what a grown man does?" In response, I can only nod my head in affirmation.

I received the phone as it was the call of the owner of the theatre group.

"Hello"

"Virendra??"

"Yes, that's me."

"So...when will the play be ready?"

"...Aaaa... I'm still working on it. It will be finished by next week."

"Didn't you say the same thing last month?"

"Dinesh Sahab, the work is in progress. It will surely be over by next week."

"I have waited long enough. I can't keep waiting for the whole year. If you aren't capable of doing that, I will find someone else who is capable."

"I promise... I will surely hand over the script to you next week...Dinesh Sahab...Hello? Hello? Hello?"

I realised that he had disconnected the call. I kept the phone on the table and sighed.

Dinesh Sahab owned the 'Damini Theatres' and used to direct all the plays that were performed by that theatre group. You can say that he was very successful in this field. At the same time, he was very strict. He wanted everything in a way which suited his taste. I am not saying that he has a bad taste, but altering the story and making amends in my script is one of the things that I hate the most. Why? Because just like that man, I too want everything to happen according to my wish.

Dinesh Sahab is an artist. But still, he refuses to acknowledge the plight of a writer like me. How should I make him understand that writers cannot write as and when they want? Writing is a form of worship. The books, the pen, the paper, the ink, all of them are living beings with lives of their own. We cannot force them to do something which they do not want.

Each and every character of a play is very dear to the playwright. Why? Because a character takes birth not from the womb of a woman, but from the mind of a playwright. And the dialogues are born out of the playwright's thoughts and experiences.

However, these characters do not completely belong to the playwright. How? I will tell you. When a play or a novel does not want to be written, no matter how much we try, we can not write anything.

Just as I had mentioned earlier, I have been trying to write something for three months. But it seems that no play wants to be written and no character wants to take birth.

I wish I could convince my pen and paper just like a husband who pacifies his angry wife.

I stood up from the chair and walked towards the window. I lit a cigarette and started smoking. My gaze fell on a very beautiful woman who was clad in a dark green saree. She looked quite young. Her gold earrings and gold bangles were shining. "She must have bought this saree for Diwali," I said to myself. The woman turned around to pick up a packet of 'Papad' that she had dropped on the ground. It was then that I noticed the partition of her hair which was filled with 'Sindoor' and the 'Mangalsutra' that she had worn on her neck.

I closed the window and returned to the study table. I cursed myself for looking at a married woman and admiring her. I hit the table with my hand in anger. "What the hell is going on?" I questioned myself. "Leave it! I can't. I just can't write any play. If Dinesh Sahab calls again, I will just tell him to give the work to someone else. I just can't do this. I am not able to think!" I shouted.

I went to the bathroom and took a bath with cold water. When I was getting dressed, I heard the doorbell ring. I put on my T-shirt hurriedly. I murmured, "Who is at the door? Who has visited me? Is it the creditor? I don't have enough money with me now. How will I pay him?" But then, I suddenly remembered that I had paid off my debts just a week ago.

With slow steps, I went to the door and opened it. I have to say, I was surprised. It was one of my distant maternal uncles. He hugged me with a smile on his face. I hugged him back and said, "Mama, actually I was bathing. That's why it took a long time to open the door. Please come inside."

My uncle said, "Actually, I am in a hurry. I have to go somewhere. I came here to invite you. Beta, today is Diwali. Come to our house and celebrate Diwali with us. And yes, I have something for you." He handed me a box of Soan Papdi and said, "Beta, your Mami really wants to see you. So don't forget to come."

I thanked him. I urged him to sit inside the house but he insisted on leaving. So I bid him farewell.

After the death of my parents, my relatives hardly visited or called me. Moreover, who would like to maintain a relationship with a poor playwright who worked for theatres with no regular income? In these circumstances, the arrival of this distant uncle of mine genuinely surprised me.

I opened the box of Soan Papdi and started eating. I ate two pieces of Soan Papdi. When I took the third piece in my hand, an idea came to my mind.

"Oh! Exactly! That's the best thing that I can do!" I screamed in happiness.

I kept the box of Soan Papdi in the kitchen and ran to the study table. I took a notepad and quickly wrote down whatever had come to my mind.

I was extremely happy. After a long duration of three months, I had finally written the plot summary of a play. Isn't that strange? Within those three months, I could not even write a single paragraph. But suddenly after eating two pieces of Soan Papdi, I was able to write a plot summary which was three-page long.

I took my notebook and on a fresh page, I wrote the heading - 'The Rasgulla Seller'. It was the story of a poor man named Deenanath who used to sell Rasgullas on the streets of Kolkata.

I wrote :

______________________________________

ACT - I

SCENE - I

Deenanath's house (Night)

Deenanath, a poor middle aged man, sits on the floor and dips fried balls of dough in a vessel filled with sugar syrup. His wife Kamala enters the room and stares at him.

Kamala : Let me help you with this.

Deenanath: I am almost done. But the sugar syrup in this vessel is not enough.

Kamala: There is more sugar syrup left in the kitchen. I will bring that here.

..
..
..
..
______________________________________

I kept writing till it was 4 o'clock in the afternoon. I had finished writing four scenes by then and I was very happy.

Just then, I remembered my uncle's invitation. I said to myself, "I need to go to their house. After all, my uncle invited me and also brought sweets for me."

I stood up and went to my bedroom. I took out a dark blue kurta from the almirah. After wearing the kurta, I started combing my hair. I remembered that my uncle had an extremely beautiful daughter named Ragini. Once upon a time, I was one of her silent admirers. Poor girl! She became a widow within two years of her marriage.

I left the house on my motorcycle and went to a sweet shop. I bought a packet of Soan Papdi and a few Gulab Jamuns. I kept thinking all throughout the way, "Will I get to see Ragini?"

After a ride of half an hour, I reached their house. I rang the doorbell and waited for a few minutes but, there was no response. I was about to ring the doorbell again, when the door opened.

It was my aunt who had opened the door. She was extremely delighted to see me. She said, "Virendra Beta, come inside. I have been waiting for you."

I walked inside the house and saw Ragini. I felt a cold wind brushing against me. She was still beautiful. Her eyes were shining like the stars in the night sky. I walked towards her with gentle steps and smiled. Then I handed her the packets of sweets that I had bought.

She smiled back at me. "Sit here," she said, pointing towards the sofa.

I sat on the sofa, while she went to the other room with the sweets.

............... ♠️♠️♠️ THE END ♠️♠️♠️.................