*The Incomplete Nobel* He was stuck while looking for a punch line to end one of the tales for his book. His mind was void with callousness; his lexicon had run out of words and expressions. Finally, he gave up. Unknowingly, he had got mixed up in the mess of his feelings and expectations. He knew very well that Old habits die hard”, but nothing could withhold him from his playful indulgence of day dreaming. .. He slept with his eyes open and rested upon the rabbit-white cloudy sky. Sun was hiding behind the clouds and his eyes were trying to colour some portrait. His artistic mind was projecting an obsolete picture of an old man with big beard, holding a book. Something was engraved over it. .. “Gee, gee , geeta , geetanjali! Oh, its Geetanjali. I think you are Rabindranath Tagore, isnt it, Sir? And I remember you got a Nobel for this. Sir, do you know, I am also working on my novel ‘Fillings’. I wonder if I can get a Nobel for this, he mumbled through his shining bright optimistic eyes. .. His imagination took him to the podium where he was accepting the prize. The crowds were applauding loud. He was requested to give a speech and so he gently said, Your majesty, your royal highness and friends. I accept my award with humility and........ .. Suddenly, he felt winds kissing him. Sharp bleak rays of the sun fell on his aperture, impeding his hopes as the wind blew the fluffy clouds by the sun. It was a battle, a combat of almighty waves with lucid hopes hurling from his glittering sanguine eyes. Alas! Once again waves crushed against his feet and reality took over the dream. He opened his eyes but in despair. Both his novel and the Nobel remain incomplete! -Sushant Sinha #TAWfanarchy
Posted on: Tue, 11 Nov 2014 12:30:00 +0000