Sample Copy. Not For Distribution. - Book Publishing House · PDF filesir, Sadhna Hulyalkar...

Sample Copy. Not For Distribution.

i

Canvas of a

Storyteller


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Publishing-in-support-of,

EDUCREATION PUBLISHING

RZ 94, Sector - 6, Dwarka, New Delhi - 110075 Shubham Vihar, Mangla, Bilaspur, Chhattisgarh - 495001

Website: www.educreation.in __________________________________________________

© Copyright, Author

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, magnetic, optical, chemical, manual, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written consent of its writer.

ISBN: 978-1-61813-409-7

Price: ` 225.00

The opinions/ contents expressed in this book are solely of the author and do not represent the opinions/ standings/ thoughts of Educreation.

Printed in India


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Canvas of a

Storyteller

Aniruddha Pathak

EDUCREATION PUBLISHING (Since 2011)

www.educreation.in


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Dedicated to You.


vi

Acknowledgement I’ve been blessed to be surrounded by people who have

been the eternal source of positivity helping me live my

passion without any worries. These people deserve a

token of gratitude and words of appreciation. And so I

thank every person who has helped shaping me in my

journey, may it be personal or in writing.

My parents, Mr. Balasaheb Pathak and Mrs.

Ashwini Pathak, are the ones who have helped me climb

up each step, each hurdle in my journey and have

encouraged my passion whenever I felt low. It’s their

efforts and belief in me that I am able to write today, for

which I owe them all my love and accolades. A bunch of

Cadburys to my dear brother, Anurag, who is my first

reader in the house, is the one who forces me to write as

quick as I can whenever I get diverted from writing, is

the one who lets me know what mistakes I have made in

my write-ups, and also suggests improvements, in spite

of his young age.

My mama: Mrs. Shailesh Mandlik, and mami: Mrs.

Seema Mandlik, have played a vital role in my journey.

Also, thank you Chaitali didi and Chinmay for adding a

required glare to my life.

Big thanks to my masi, Mrs. Shweta Deshpande,

who has always encouraged my passion for writing. You

are a poet as well, and I feel no shame in saying that I

have followed your footsteps and stepped into writing.

Huge thanks to Mrs. Sharayu Gulve, my

admiration, for encouraging me every time I needed an

inspiration.

Mr. Nishikant Pathak and Mrs. Rupali Pathak,

thank you for showering me with your blessings.


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My teachers hold an important place in my

learning. Jyoti Joshi ma’am, you have always

encouraged my passion for writing, and it is you who

have selflessly helped me to walk ahead in this journey.

Honorable mentions include Champa Rai ma’am, Rupali

Jadhav ma’am, Sumitra Rajderkar ma’am, Sachin Pathak

sir, Sadhna Hulyalkar ma’am, Shubhada Wagh ma’am,

and Smita Shah ma’am, who have been a vital part of

my school life.

Talking about the mentors, without whom I wouldn’t

have understood the importance of seriousness in

writing, I deeply thank them from the bottom of my

heart for helping me whenever I asked for it.

Neil D’Silva sir, you have helped me a lot in my

journey of writing and are my inspiration. Our

discussions need no appropriate topic; we converse on

anything that we want – straight from writing to music

videos. You have cleared out my doubts; have

encouraged me to improve, and supported me

unconditionally whenever I needed it. Thank you so

much for being there.

Ramesh Grandhi sir, I feel speechless while stating

your importance in my life! You are the one who read

my early musings and approached me to take my passion

for writing seriously. You improved me a lot, I must say.

Despite of your busy schedule, you always find time to

correct my errors and also appreciate me when I show

improvement; and I find no words to thank you for that.

Your calmness has made me learn a lot. Thank you once

again, sir.

Rohan Govenkar sir, just one call made the

difference, I remember. You are the one who provided

me with appropriate solutions and inputs so I could

improve. Many a time I come to you with my head

bursting with doubts, and you answer them beautifully.


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Thank you for the immense efforts you employed on me,

sir. I owe gratitude to all three of you.

More than offline world, the virtual world has

understood my passion. Many groups on Facebook have

been a vital part of my life, and have provided me with

love and appreciation, also, positive criticizing.

Some of the notable mentions are:

‘Writers and Readers’ – the one which gave me a

platform to write extensively, and an audience to value

my efforts. The lively group has helped me flourish in

my writing, and has also gifted me with many amazing

friends and readers who are the prime source of

encouragement.

‘For Writers, By Authors’ – the intellectual

approach of this hard working group has been a major

reason for my improvements in writing. The discussions

are always informative, and the togetherness maintained

in the group deserves an appreciation.

‘Writers Soulmate’ – a group which I administrate,

and am well received and respected there. My members

are very supportive, and I see them improving day by

day. This is a place where I know I am a part of a family,

a bond which can never be broken.

My friends and readers occupy a special place in

my life. Whenever I felt disheartened and wanted to quit

writing, they came to my rescue. Thank you so much all

of you.

Talking about the readers: Oishee Chakraborty,

Reeya Ghosh, Kaveri Sinha, Aadarsh Shrivastava,

Suyog Kurlekar, Shivam Gupta (thank you in helping

me with the title), Komal Priyani, Soumya Soumi,

Sananda Sinha, Poulami Hom, Darshika Garg and

Abhilasha Pant are the names that strike my mind. There

are many more readers, but these people have been


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interactive and have appreciated me each time I wrote

something and have helped me make a progress.

Apart from writing, there have been some people

who have improved me as a person and have helped me

maintain my calmness whenever I felt low.

Priyanka Mishra, my heartfelt sister and chhota

dhamaka, knows me, my likes and dislikes. My rising

temper always dissipates cause of the cheerfulness which

she brings around me.

Shivani Shah, my heartfelt sister, my powerhouse,

has been an ultimate moral support helping me identify

my worth. From being sarcastic to being childish, you

have always been there.

Samridhi Agarwal di, your faith in me is what has

brought me here. You have always tried to make my

perspective a decent one, teaching me the morals of a

successful approach towards life.

Darshita Taretiya, you have been there when I was

stuck into turmoil of emotions, willing to give up on

writing and life. You have been a part of the happenings

in my life, and have supported me like a pillar.

Suyog Kurlekar, my friend, it’s your constant

nagging that made me write this book. You are a

wonderful guy, and would love to be your friend forever.

Prasanth Logan, you know my life, brother. You

have seen my sorrows and have helped me grow. I owe

all my cheer to you for the way you have supported me

on each point of my life.

Tushti Bhatia di and Sandeep Sharma bhaiya, you

both have been an inspiration for me.

A bunch of thanks to my beta readers too: Anshi

Joshi, Abhilasha Pant, Sananda Sinha, Shivani Shah,

Dhruvi Sarda, Darshita Taretiya, Reetika Pandey,

Gunashree Sahana, Shivani Singh, Vismaya

Shivashankaran, Komal Priyani, Jahnavi Arora, Harshita


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Sabharwal, Pari Singh Rathore, Daisy Mahanta, Ayushi

Garg, Sneha Podder and Ishani Kalita who have been

generous to let me know my mistakes and advised me to

improve those – without which I am afraid, the book

would have been dissatisfactory.

Jesal Jani, my editor, you are the reason why my

craft has gained its essence. Thank you for believing in

my work, and adding a glare to it.

Monica Parmar of Pixxetmedia, thank you for

helping me in choosing the title of my book, and also for

designing the magnificent cover for the book.

Thanks to Kavipriya Moorthy and Lavanya Nathan

for helping me write the Tamil part written in one of the

stories.

Last but not the least it’s the Almighty that I would

thank to gift me a happy and prosperous life.

X


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About The Author

Aniruddha Pathak, aged 20 (as on

2016), is a Computer Science student,

and has been into writing since long. He

is the founder of 'Litera Muse', which

helps the authors and readers to unite

under one roof. Apart from writing and

studying, Aniruddha is a music lover,

and likes to spend his time helping the people flourish in

their lives and loves to inspire them. Being an introvert,

he feels less comfortable to write about his life, and his

readers have been his all-time inspiration. He writes

about them, and feels to be a part of their lives, though a

distant one. He believes in learning new things every

day, and hence calls himself an all-time learner.

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About The Book

In this rapidly changing world, we come across many

people around us. These people have many shades, some

bright...some dark. They might want to let their feelings

out, but they find it difficult to do so – and we term them

different from the population. The diverse personalities

sometimes make us wonder, what is hidden under their

veil? They show a happy face, while hiding an agony

beneath their expression. Some want to scream with

happiness, but their voices are suppressed even before

they could speak about it. Stand by the people who

mention their sorrows, happiness, pains, agonies, and

much more. You could relate to it, and find them talking

to you. Peep into people's diaries, their midnight

loneliness, find them doing weird stuffs, read their

confessions, hear to the conversations that they hold

with me, and see them either rise up touching the sky or

fall down to the ground. The people. Their stories. One

storyteller.

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Introduction

This book is a work of fiction. This is a collection of

short stories based on people, and my alter ego – Ani, is

the narrator of the story. Ani is a fictional character as

well, and so are the other protagonists in the short

stories.

The short stories are based on the experiences of

people. The stories portray the joy, the sorrows, and

many more expressions of characters; also showing the

way they deal with the sadness and agonies. Though in

some short stories, you might imagine yourself as the

protagonist, voicing your own views about the

circumstances that surround you.

The narrator, Ani, would be showing you his own

drafts which he had written or is writing while talking to

you, and would want you to witness the lives of the

people that are painted in the stories.

You would find many people in there. A baby, a

couple, a husband, a wife, a daughter, a son, and many

more. Some stories might bear a similar or clichéd

theme, but the consequences and struggles would differ.

After all, the stories are based on real lives of people that

surround us, though tagged as fictional. Live their

stories, and stand beside them. See them laughing,

crying, yelling, in pain, and see them telling you about

their lives.

I have always been fascinated to know the

expressions that people hold under their veil; and that

passion has made me write this book. Countless times I

have found it difficult to pen down feelings of several

hearts, but I was determined to do it…no matter what.

Though these stories are imaginary, those are also the


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result of the interaction that I have had with my friends

and the observations that I drew of the people around

me. I wished to write what they feel – in my words – and

here I have done the same.

I hope you would enjoy reading the book, while

understanding the perspectives that I want to convey

through the stories. Thank you for giving me the

privilege to share my work with you. I wish for you a

life rich with motivation, joy, and peace. And I hope that

you will do your part to help in building a new and

peaceful world.

– Aniruddha Pathak

X


Canvas of a Storyteller

1

Hi. This is a weird way to greet you, I know.

A weird way to start writing as well, I guess.

I sit here in front of my computer, with a steaming

cup of coffee standing in front of me atop the printer.

The desk looks clumsy as it is occupied with my

paperwork, pens, headphones and my mobile hidden

somewhere amidst the cluster.

It’s a Sunday afternoon, the breeze is flowing

gently, and the silence is playing its own music. The

dimness of the sunlight entering through the curtains is

delighting and enthralling.

My room is lit up by the fluorescence of the tubelight,

the fan is rotating at its full speed, and the house is

lonely. I am the only resident in the home as everyone

else is traveling to my mama’s town. This day has really

turned out to be lucky for me; as now I can enjoy my

freedom!

I know this is getting a bit boring for you. So, this is

Ani – technical and colloquial abbreviation of my name:

Aniruddha Pathak. Sitting here with a pair of spectacles

placed over my aquiline nose, I am averagely thin

figured; and talking about my nature, I am much of an

introvert. The introductory part is getting lengthier it

seems, so I better skip it. Let’s get back to the track.

This loneliness has surely helped in encouraging me to

write something. Also, the coffee is beckoning me to

savor it. I should now put my fingers on the keyboard –

oh, they already are – and start typing.

So now that you are reading me, it’s obvious that

you are bound to jump into the surroundings that I


Aniruddha Pathak

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portray. There are several things that I would like you to

see…to read, precisely.

Several times it happens that we forget to look

around us. Engrossed in our digital devices, or the digital

sets hung on the wall, or rarely into a newspaper, we

don’t pay attention to what’s going on around us. The

nature decorating itself, the people talking and

gossiping, the birds and the animals lost in their own

lifestyles, and many more beautiful adjectives. No, this

isn’t any philosophical lecture that I am giving you, but

this is where we are heading to. The happenings, the

people, the surroundings, and their minds.

Wait for a second; let me guide you to something.

Here, I have a folder named – The Life with Ani. Weird

name again, I know. You’re in for a weird trip, which is

only going to turn weirder. This folder has many things

hidden inside it which I haven’t let anyone read yet.

Finally, it is time for it to be read. All of them are my

brainchildren.

Peep into many worlds, straight from infants to

elderly people – into someone’s diary and their feelings,

into their sorrows and happiness. I won’t deny, there are

some unedited drafts too. Not to worry, I will edit it with

the flow and the passing time.

Pacing it fast, let’s jump into the drafts directly.

Right here, I have this one…wait, let me show you this

one first. Recently, while attending a home warming

ceremony, I had to carry out an enervating yet

entertaining task of babysitting – my masi’s son.

Kids, especially babies, bear frequently changing

thought process. For a second they would cry, the next

second they would find something to play and feel

happy about it; and if they lost interest in that thing, they

would feel sad again. It’s unpredictable, indeed. That

innocence, the unconditional demands, the feelings of

‘what to do’ and ‘what not to do’, those eyes searching



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for its mother…it’s mesmerizing. While I was playing

with my masi’s son, I could feel the confusion he had

while holding many expressions at once on his chubby

face. Maybe he was irritated with me.

Though I don’t recall what all things I have felt

when I was a kid, probably the same as him, let’s try to

decipher his thoughts. After all, it’s confusing, you

know. Instead of me telling it all, it would be best if you

read it.

I am just coming back after keeping my coffee mug

into the kitchen, till then, enjoy my take on this: ‘No, It’s

Not Okay!’

X


Aniruddha Pathak

4

No, It’s Not Okay!

…and here I am handed over to someone else, yet again.

This time to this boy – whom they call as my bhaiya –

who wears a massive pair of spectacles, has messy hair,

and probably is trying to play with me.

This has now been like a routine for me; to make

these people play. Anyone from the house comes and

sits in front of me and does confusing gestures that I

don’t even understand. Then they try to speak in some

weird language, which is fun. But I think they don’t

know how to… Wait, wait, bhaiya! That piece of Lego

is not meant to be placed there! Here, here!

That bhaiya doesn’t understand me, I suppose.

When I point at the place where the Lego has to be

placed – with my God gifted voice of ‘unh-unh’ – he

keeps asking me, ‘Oh, you want that piece?’ and gives it

to me.

He doesn’t even know how to play games! Heh! I

am more intelligent than him. I…wait…Why are you

picking me up, bhaiya? Put me down, now! Right now I

want to run around the house! Please put me down to the

ground! ‘Ow, let’s swing!’ What? No!

Chapter 01



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The room is spinning. Or am I? Stupid bhaiya! Why

is he swinging me round around? Ugh! ‘See how he is

laughing!’ he says to someone who I am unable to see

amidst those swings. I am not laughing! You are making

my mouth go wide! I am trying to make a straight face.

But who will see that? Tell me, why do they

misunderstand me so much? I don’t get it.

Hush! Finally he has stopped and is making me sit

on the bed, gently. He is irritating me so much. I guess

he will now go away. Thank God! Wait, is that mom?

Oh, yes. I want to go to my mom! Like, right now!

But how should I tell that to this bhaiya here, who

is all engrossed in his mobile? Wait, he is playing

something on it. I like the games though. Especially the

one where the man with muddy white colored shirt and

brown pants runs hastily on the greenish shaded floor;

and the monkeys chase him. Swoosh, up! Swish, down!

Hay, right! Aye, left! Just glide my finger on the screen

and he listens to me. Is he playing that? I get up on my

knees to peer in the flashing screen.

No, he is playing something else. Some game with

many different colored stones. Nay…I don’t like it;

boring game. Oh, I forgot. I was supposed to ask that

bhaiya to take me to mom.

Bhaiya, bhaiya! I try to draw his attention towards

me, pulling a corner of his shirt. He is looking at me

with a confused face now. I immediately point at mom,

and continue with my chant of ‘unh-unh’.

‘You want to meet masi?’ he says. Masi? Who’s

this? I think he didn’t get me.

Giving up on his stupidity, I decide to pull out my

most favorite weapon – crying aloud.

Waving my hands in the air, pointing towards my

mom, I scream with tears escaping my eyes.


Aniruddha Pathak

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Bhaiya is picking me up now. I think that bhaiya is

scared. Heehee! Good, good! I should increase my voice

and cry even louder. Wait, what’s that thing that bhaiya

is giving to me? Handing me a toy? Nay, I am not going

to get fooled, bhaiya. I am smart. I will beat your efforts

of making me quiet, hi hi!

‘Unh! Unh!’ I am yelling, directing my tiny fingers

towards my mom. I look at bhaiya with hopes filled in

my eyes and lips tucked out showing my helplessness.

‘Oh, you want to go to your mom…okay.’ He

finally understood me! Not stupid, bhaiya. Yes, yes! I

want to go to my mom, take me there. Now!

P At last, I safely reached into my mom’s arms. It

feels so good. I am smiling at her, and so is she. That charm! My

mom!

She tickles me, and I laugh. She is blinking her eyes

looking at me, it’s so funny! But…I am now feeling

tired; still I want to play!

Though I am being patted on my shoulders at the

moment, I want to see what’s going on around.

I am closing my eyes slowly. I cannot understand

what things are surrounding me; but I hear a familiar

voice.

‘He is asleep; make him sleep on the bed.’ Mom is

addressing someone.

I see through the corner of my small eyes. It’s

bhaiya! My stupid bhaiya!

‘Cover him with a blanket properly.’ Mom tells

him.



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‘Okay, I will,’ he replies.

‘Okay? No, it’s not okay!’ I try to yell. But my

efforts are eaten by my sleep. I am handed over to

bhaiya now; to force me hit my forehead with my palm,

supposedly. But, now I think I should surrender to my

tiny sleep. Thinking to proceed, I am closing my

eyes…to visit my dreamland, and sleep again.

O


Aniruddha Pathak

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.I am sitting here again, searching for another document

that you would read next. Actually, I am confused what I

should offer to you now. No, I am not putting it in an order of the stages of

growing up. Of course not!

Boredom has nearly bored me, so I have now

logged in to my Facebook; WhatsApp is pinging in the

mobile that is calmly lying in front of me, and the

headphones on my ears are booming with Rock and Pop

music. I am glad that the weather has turned drowsy;

drowned in grayish hue, and drippy clouds. Maybe I

should go in the balcony and enjoy the gushes. Yes,

probably.

But wait, a Facebook chat head has popped up.

‘Hey are you there?’ It’s Viddhi.

‘Yes, I am.’ I reply. Fortunately, all of my friends

know that I hate it when someone uses lingo language in

chatting or anywhere else. ‘Tell me.’

‘Umm…actually I am feeling low…’

‘What happened?’

‘One of my friends betrayed me…she told false

things about me to another best friend of mine…’ The

weather is turning grayish in her life too, it seems.

‘False things like?’ I ask.

‘Like I called her an attention seeker…badmouthed

her…etc.’

‘Didn’t you try to clear the mess?’

‘I tried…but she didn’t listen…and now I don’t

have courage to talk to her…’

‘Tell me what happened exactly. Let it all out.’

‘Kavita and I are…were I mean, best friends…’

She narrated to me the whole story.


Aniruddha Pathak

10

Viddhi is a virtual friend of mine – a Facebook

friend – who studies in 10th Standard. Her mind is stuck

in turmoil right now, where she cannot understand what

and why she is frustrated so much. Friendship does

occupy an important part of our life. As they say – A

person without friend is a person without life.

If a friend betrays us, we break down to the core.

We feel bewildered, baffled, hopeless, useless, and many

more depressive adjectives.

Same is happening with Viddhi. Though she has

summarized and told me her story of broken friendship,

let me see if I can write it; as I was looking for an

inspiration to write something. Let me open a blank

document, and feed my mind with some thoughts.

Naming it ‘Distant Dreams’, I am writing a tale of

my friend: Viddhi.

Over and out.

X



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