Subba disappeared

I came back to Delhi and waited for his call which never came. Every tinkle of the phone, made me rush towards it. God knows how many times I would be checking my e-mail account, expecting to have a mail from him. How often would I sign into my Yahoo Messenger, for his off-liners. But alas! There was no communication from him at all. I waited in vain, to hear from my lost buddy, whom I never met in flesh and blood. Forget about meeting, I did not even know what did he look like, as I had never seen his photograph. But still in his imageless existence, he was no less real to me, as any of my known acquaintances. Slowly my disappointment gave way to a feeling of deep hurt. It was hard for me to reconcile to the fact that Subba had gone forever. At times, I could not hold back my tears, refusing to accept, that this was a common feature with the virtual world, where people come and disappear at their own sweet will and only a fool expects otherwise.

Highlights of Delayed monsoon

In today’s world of show off ‘Delayed Monsoon’ comes as a breeze of fresh air. The honesty and sincerity with which I have narrated the story gives it a distinct edge over others. In this modern world of rat race, the instinct of survival has taken us away from us, creating a vast gap between we and our true self, so much so that the concept of simplicity and truthfulness has become a symbol of mediocrity, a must avoidable for all those who want to climb the ladder of success. It’s no more about who we are and what we feel about us. Rather it’s all about what we want to be projected as. In today’s scenario, marketability is the only thing which decides worthiness. It’s a strange world where matching of thoughts, words and deeds, is unheard of. Though we have succeeded in conditioning our mind to suit the requirements of modern day living but do we really feel happy about it? I am sure sometimes or the other, we all must have felt suffocated by this pretension and longed to be ourselves. Delayed Monsoon will give you an opportunity to shed your false identity. It will take you back on time to stop and ponder, where your fire was…lost in urban life, where are those cherished ideologies which were once so dear to you? Anyone who is willing to take some time off from his busy schedule and undertake this journey with Abhilasha, will love this experience as he is bound to feel refreshed and rejuvenated.
Delayed Monsoon is the story of Abhilasha and any lady can find an Abhilasha in herself, atleast in her deep self, feel the suppression and the pain of loosing the dreams and traits… the pain of a woman on relations, the infidelity in current social scenario, finding the soul satisfying life at the fag end of her life…..it makes an enjoyable reading. Drawn in the contemporary context, the fiction makes a touching story. Written in simple flowing language, it keeps the readers intrigued, who will feel compelled to take some time off and reflect.
The story is woven around the life of an Air Force Officer’s wife, with a glimpse into what goes on behind the closed gates, guarded by vigilant men in uniform, a virgin territory yet to be explored. Thus the social life of the armed forces still evokes curiosity among the mass. So this is another important factor which makes this fiction stand out among others with the potential to have a wide readership.

Rabbit & wise tortoise

“What?? Are you crazy?” I exclaimed.

“Why ? What is so crazy about it?” he said.

“Listen, cyber café is a place meant for youngsters. You really can’t expect me to go there,” I said.

“Why not? Why can’t you go there? It’s just your mind block. What’s so  unusual about it? And for  that  matter who has got time to even bother about you ?  Don’t you miss our chats?” he asked.

“Yes I do,” I admitted.

“Then please  log in to your Messenger  at six in the evening,” he gave the final ultimatum  and kept the phone down.

Oh God! This boy is going to make me do things which I don’t want to do, I thought. But in the evening, I found myself, walking towards a cyber café. The desire to be with Subba, outweighed all my apprehensions and hesitations. The  place was full of youngsters. I felt odd but nonetheless it was exciting  too, like a thrill felt by a child  by doing something forbidden. As I signed in to my Messenger, I saw him online.

“Heyyyyyyy………I’m sooooo  happy that you could make it!!!” an instant message popped up on my screen.

“I am happy too …but….” I replied.

“No ‘but’ please. You must do, what makes you happy. Don’t you  know that my wise tortoise?” he typed.

“Yeah I know rabbit. But don’t forget that I belong to a different generation and our ideas are bound to differ,” I wrote.

“ No need to act an oldie. Because in the  heart of your heart you know that  inspite  of your age, you  belong to our generation. It’s our generation that you identify with. It’s said we are as old as we feel. So what’s wrong in accepting that you are still a teenager? Why do you keep reminding yourself your age? Be happy that you don’t feel and behave like an ‘aunty-ji. ”

“Hahahaha…no doubt that I don’t behave like an ‘aunty- ji’ but you definitely behave  like an ‘uncle-ji’, always preaching me something or the other,” I laughed.

Making of an author out of a bored housewife

“What is it?” I was curious.
“You are so good at expressing your feelings. Why don’t you start writing?”
“What? Do you think writing is a child’s play? Writing is not just expressing your feelings. There is more to it. Writing is not everyone’s cup of tea,” I found his idea so absurd.
“Yes it’s not everyone’s cup of tea but surely you can do it,” Riaz seemed to be certain about it.
“Forget it Riaz, I am not at all convinced.”
“Neither am I trying to convince you. Trust me, you are a potential author. All you have to do is pen down your thoughts and emotions,” he was encouraging.
And thereafter Riaz never allowed the topic to die down. Our meetings started with the same question, “So….? Have you written anything?”
Fed up, with his relentless persuasion, one morning I opened a new file in Microsoft Word. ‘Let me type whatever comes to my mind and show it to him. Once he goes through my amateurish writing, he would stop pestering me.’ I thought. Just then Golu and Chulbuli came and sat on the window parapet. As I looked at the lovey-dovey couple, I wished, Nikhil had given me the same attention that Golu bestowed on Chulbuli. My yearning for love, triggered so many emotions in me that thoughts just flowed through my mind, in a steady cascade. And as my fingers played on the key board to give shape to my feelings, something unexpected happened. Appropriate phrases, describing the exact feelings came to my mind on their own. The effortless ease, with which I captured my feelings in a smooth flowing language was simply amazing! How could it happen to a novice like me who had just begun? I couldn’t believe that it was actually happening.

Author's note

I have remained a loner since my childhood. Being an introvert to the core, leading an active social life is not my cup of tea. So it was but natural that I had a limited friend circle. But strangely enough, even an introvert like me longed for companionship. Thus being trapped in conflicting expectations, I looked for an escape route. And what could have been better than the internet, where my desire for camaraderie was fulfilled without allowing anyone to encroach into my private space. I was introduced to the internet by my daughter and my life changed forever.
It was an absolute new experience for me, when I started interacting with strangers in the cyber world. I was cautioned by my husband for venturing into a territory, where sinful desires stem from the dark side of our mind. That being the general perception about internet chatting, his concern was understandable. But what he did not want to believe was, that every coin had two sides and I wanted to cash in, on the positive side. That is why, in contrast to the widespread belief, my exposure in the virtual world had a different story to tell. I have found many friends here, who have enriched my life in some way or the other. 'Delayed Monsoon'; is a tribute to all my friends, whom I met in this so-called shadowy world and because of whom, I am what I am today.
In this cyber world, looked down upon by the virtuous variety, I met Anamika (name changed), the wife of an Army officer. Her husband was posted to a remote Army base, while she stayed in a separated family accommodation. Her thought patterns had an uncanny resemblance with me and I was intrigued by her life story. But it never occurred to me that an interesting story could be made out of her life, till my friend Gaffar suggested that with my natural flair for writing it would be a good idea to dig into my potential and give a chance to the author in me. I was sold by the idea and the outcome was Abhilasha, a fusion of two lives, Anamika and me. As I started writing, both the lives became one and I found myself switching over from one life to the other. So this Abhilasha is neither me nor Anamika. She is the synergy of both and even more. It is mostly a work of fiction, though inspired by reality at some instances.

Delayed Monsoon

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