Meeting the publisher.
Part-1
Well to follow a writers protocol I have to declare that this whole incident is a work of fiction and nothing like this happened actually. It’s a story of a crazy night which happened on 17th Jan 2011, when I had this meeting with the publisher of ABC publishing house. Nothing went as I expected and it kind of changed me entirely, changed my perception about writing and I think this particular meeting matured me as a writer and more importantly as a human being.
It took me 1and a half hour (and 350 bucks) to reach the publishing house’s office situated at Ansari Road, Daryaganj. As I stepped out of auto I took a deep breath and checked myself in the shining mirror of the building. I was bit nervous and excited about the meeting ahead. You don’t usually have such situations in life from where the entire course of your life can be redirected. I was busy making myself mentally prepared for the task up ahead then suddenly I heard a voice from behind.
“Bhaiya Ji paise???”
Perhaps the auto wala didn’t understand my situation in any possible way. And I was too pre-occupied to tell him the entire story. I walked up to him and apologised and paid him. I scolded myself for being so nervous, but that didn’t help at all. Few hours and my fate will be decided, I was having so many emotions inside me as I walked inside the building.
The building kind of soothed my nerves; it was very artistic and elegant in its very own way. I checked my watch and it was almost the time for my appointment with the publisher. I went up to the reception to inquire about publisher’s cabin, there was a woman in her mid-40s busy like hell. She had a telephone glued to her right ear with the help of her right shoulder, she was typing something and mumbling so very softly on the phone that it was almost inaudible to me, a pencil was carelessly tucked in her hairs behind. She had a smile on her face that eased me and I had this feeling that its safe for me to talk to her. I wanted to wait for her to finish her call but then I rechecked my watch and it made me slightly uncomfortable, it was almost the time. She was not important in my scheme of things and annoying her wont harm me, I was not there to impress her anyway. I decided to interrupt.
“Excuse me, mam.”
She waved me away with her hand and signalled me to wait for few minutes. I stood there impatient. Those 3-4 minutes felt like a lifetime. I didn’t want to be late, and there I was waiting for her to finish a call. Every min she takes might end up being the difference between my approval or rejection. Then she finally finished her call.
“Yes, how may I help you”
-“Mam, I am Sudhanshu and….” And as I was about to tell what I am doing there she cut me in between,
“Oh, Sir is waiting for you, 1st floor left most cabin” the word waiting made me feel creepy. I thanked her with a warm smile and almost ran my way up till few steps left in his office. As I was about to reach the door of his cabin I revised things that I’d say and things that I have to avoid. I opened the glass door half and asked as politely as I possibly could-
“Sir may I please come in?”
“Oh Sudhanshu, Come in Come in, have a seat.”
Well, to be honest, I was initially surprised to see him, what I imagined was a man with grey hairs, suit tie and boot and a highly professional way of dealing with clients. But this man was different, he was 35 or something, with silky soft hairs, fair, tall and lean, a green t-shirt with a jacket, had a very soothing personality and a smile that can make anyone his friend in a minute or even less. I was instantly very comfortable.
I stepped into his office and sat down on the chair directly facing him. He was doing some files so I took the liberty of checking his office out. It was amazing, the emulsion on walls, the fish aquarium, the meaningless paintings that I never understood, few certificates that boasted how good the publishing house is and few pictures of India’s most renowned novelist who r now a force to reckon with. I almost imagined my photo hanging right next to India’s most loved author; this fantasy was so pleasing in itself that I smiled to myself.
“So Sudhanshu, why do you want to be a writer?”
My smile vanished and I saw him looking at me with a pleasant smile, I felt bad that he noticed me looking at wall photo and smiling like an idiot, the guy must have thought I am nuts. And above that, he asked such a difficult question. Why do I want to be a writer, hmmm let me see; because that’s the only thing I am good at, or I don’t want to be an engineer slave of a multinational company anything else would do, or I love writing and its fun to tell others how you feel and it is so lovely to receive compliments on your writing skills. So many answers I had to a simple one line question but I chose none of them and gave a very stupid stammering answer.
“I-I don’t know sir.”
Crap Sud, you blew it. That was so lame. Now he will say thank you very much now you may leave. But nothing like that happened. He laughed out loud and said
“Easy kid, this is not an interview.”
I am not sure I liked him calling me a kid but that reminded me of someone very close to my heart. My Geet Di use to call me kid. Anyways he closed all his files and asked me plug in my pen drive. I obeyed. He took some almonds out of to his pocket and offered me few, which I accepted. He asked me to sit on a sofa behind while he started reading 5 underdogs. He had a paper on his desk and a pencil in writing position in his hand. And he started reading, with tons of concentration. I sat there on sofa with my eyes buried deep in his face to notice any change in his facial expressions. I was nervous again…
Exactly 37mins into reading the novel he burst into laughter, I was initially taken aback by this but then I mentally hi-fived myself. This is going great Sud. I messaged the same to my room partner Ishu, who was anxious about how the things are going with me. Then this happened time and time again, cant tell you guys it boosted my moral like anything. 5hrs or so into reading he turned to me with a very serious expression and asked-
“Did this actually happened kid?”
I replied back in a smile…
TO BE CONTINUED……
Part 2
He continued reading, and I immersed my eyes deeper in his face trying to pick up every bit of emotion he displays. I must confess I was getting very positive vibes. It was almost 12 when he got up from his chair arched his back and gave me a warm smiling look. I saw his eyes they were light red and still he wanted to get back to reading.
‘Workaholic’ I thought.
As I was sitting there and watching him unwind himself he abruptly spoke.
“Hey Kid, feel like having a cigarette??”
Oh, crap! Has he lost his mind?
He was offering me a cigarette. I wanted to say ‘no sir, I don’t smoke’ but my body needed nicotine. It was a long hard day, I spent almost 6hrs or so, on a couch and my ass was burning and my back was numb. What smoking has to do with my writing and my novel anyway? Adding to that he was also smoking with me so ‘smoking is injurious to health’ and that entire crappy lecture which one usually bears on DD channel was ruled out from him. Trust me every smoker knows cigarette is injurious to health, and anyone’s dumb lecture on that won’t help. Like an idiot I smiled and accepted his offer. We walked down the corridor and into the open. He took a packet of Benson and hedges from his pocket and offered me one, I elegantly took one out and he did the same. Then he took a lighter out and like an actor from south Indian movies he lit his cigarette. Well, to be honest I wanted to try his style of lighting up cigarette but I stuck to the traditional way of lighting up the fag. I was curious to know how he knew that I was a smoker. I was a non-smoker and a kind of anti-smoker guy back then when this novel was written. Neither I smoked nor did I like people who smoked back then.
This guy is enigmatic. He knew things about me. I decided to ask.
“Sir, how did you know I smoke?”
He took one deep drag, and when I say deep, I mean real deep, the kind of breath which one inhales on early morning yoga TV shows, hot girls doing pranayama in totally irrelevant type of outfits. He exhaled in style, making rings, and then another ring that passed into that ring. I could feel him easing and feeling good instantly. He was relaxed and calm. Dopamine inside the fag was doing its job instantly. Cigarette rocks if you ask me, scientist should start working on making harmless cigarettes. If cigarettes without the potential hazard of cancer are invented, it’s my strong believe, they can outsell every possible good that humans manufacture and need. I took one drag 1/4th volume of what he took and then stared softly at him for reply
“Kid, you are an engineering student with screwed up grades and looking for an alternate career desperately; surely you do smoke.”
Okay, that was rude. I felt like saying there is a tale behind every D and F grade in my grade sheet and c’mon man I didn’t expected him to categorise every smoker as loser. SRK smokes, Chester smokes, and if one has sufficiently free time he will end up discovering that very successful and established men and women from every possible field smokes. But I wanted to hit him right in his face. How dare he insult smoker fraternity?
“Sir, you are the chief publisher of one of the most renowned publishing house, earning a rainbow. A job that many dream of, why in the world makes you a smoker?”
He burst into laughter in the middle of his drag, laughing and coughing and with his free hand waving the smoke away from his face. BINGO! The punch did hit him hard.
“
You are one quick witted asshole, aren’t you?”
“Errrr…..” Oh my god, did he just say asshole? What did he have in those cigarettes? weed? Hash? or what? I remembered my 1st time smoking hash when I talked shit all night to my roomie. Then I ended up sleeping on the floor of my room with my shoes as my pillow. I gave my cigarette a long investigative look and then I decided to put it off in a way that he wouldn’t notice. ‘I won’t be writer’ I told myself.
“Oh c’mon kid, you have heard the word before haven’t you. And stop calling me sir; call me Abhijeet or Abhi for simplicity. Sir makes me feel old.”
There was I smoking my favourite brand of cigarette in a totally strange place with a man who is enigmatic, to say the least, who is a bit high after 2-3 drags. ‘Man! I am having the time of my life’ I thought. He continued.
“You know what kiddo; there is a story behind why I smoke. There are hidden skeletons in everyone’s closet. But u should also know, you are here to tell me stories, not the vice versa.” And he smiled as he made one ring of smoke pass into another.
“My cigarette went off; can you light it up again?” I innocently showed him my cigarette, it was like a child showing his mother his broken toy and asking her to fix it. Though my toy was lethal and this mother of mine called me an asshole few minutes ago. We both smoked in complete silence for next 3 minutes and then we walked back to his cabin. An unspoken understanding between both of us, none spoke but both understood every gesture.
He sat down on his chair, went round in circle once and then started reading again. I quietly sat down on my couch and waited for him to finish. I was feeling sleepy, so I dozed off. It’s totally safe to have a small nap. This guy is all cool.
“Oh my god!!”
I heard someone scream. I woke up from my nap in a sudden shock. I was having blurred vision due to the nap I took. I checked around, everything was just fine; Abhi was busy reading my novel. I checked time in my watch, It was 2am. Bad dream I comforted myself. I made myself comfortable on that couch and went back to sleep again. I took one deep breath and then again-
“Fuck !!!”
I saw Abhi was having his hands on his head and he was shaking his head in disbelief. His eyes were wide spread and he was staring at him computer screen.
‘Oh, I, see, he has reached the climax portion.’ I told myself. Great! Few minutes more. You will have you mouth half open. Eyes full of amazement and shock and then after few more minutes you will burst out laughing with corners of your eyes wet with a small tear drop. And this is what exactly happened just the crying part excluded…
To be Continued….
Part-1
Well to follow a writers protocol I have to declare that this whole incident is a work of fiction and nothing like this happened actually. It’s a story of a crazy night which happened on 17th Jan 2011, when I had this meeting with the publisher of ABC publishing house. Nothing went as I expected and it kind of changed me entirely, changed my perception about writing and I think this particular meeting matured me as a writer and more importantly as a human being.
It took me 1and a half hour (and 350 bucks) to reach the publishing house’s office situated at Ansari Road, Daryaganj. As I stepped out of auto I took a deep breath and checked myself in the shining mirror of the building. I was bit nervous and excited about the meeting ahead. You don’t usually have such situations in life from where the entire course of your life can be redirected. I was busy making myself mentally prepared for the task up ahead then suddenly I heard a voice from behind.
“Bhaiya Ji paise???”
Perhaps the auto wala didn’t understand my situation in any possible way. And I was too pre-occupied to tell him the entire story. I walked up to him and apologised and paid him. I scolded myself for being so nervous, but that didn’t help at all. Few hours and my fate will be decided, I was having so many emotions inside me as I walked inside the building.
The building kind of soothed my nerves; it was very artistic and elegant in its very own way. I checked my watch and it was almost the time for my appointment with the publisher. I went up to the reception to inquire about publisher’s cabin, there was a woman in her mid-40s busy like hell. She had a telephone glued to her right ear with the help of her right shoulder, she was typing something and mumbling so very softly on the phone that it was almost inaudible to me, a pencil was carelessly tucked in her hairs behind. She had a smile on her face that eased me and I had this feeling that its safe for me to talk to her. I wanted to wait for her to finish her call but then I rechecked my watch and it made me slightly uncomfortable, it was almost the time. She was not important in my scheme of things and annoying her wont harm me, I was not there to impress her anyway. I decided to interrupt.
“Excuse me, mam.”
She waved me away with her hand and signalled me to wait for few minutes. I stood there impatient. Those 3-4 minutes felt like a lifetime. I didn’t want to be late, and there I was waiting for her to finish a call. Every min she takes might end up being the difference between my approval or rejection. Then she finally finished her call.
“Yes, how may I help you”
-“Mam, I am Sudhanshu and….” And as I was about to tell what I am doing there she cut me in between,
“Oh, Sir is waiting for you, 1st floor left most cabin” the word waiting made me feel creepy. I thanked her with a warm smile and almost ran my way up till few steps left in his office. As I was about to reach the door of his cabin I revised things that I’d say and things that I have to avoid. I opened the glass door half and asked as politely as I possibly could-
“Sir may I please come in?”
“Oh Sudhanshu, Come in Come in, have a seat.”
Well, to be honest, I was initially surprised to see him, what I imagined was a man with grey hairs, suit tie and boot and a highly professional way of dealing with clients. But this man was different, he was 35 or something, with silky soft hairs, fair, tall and lean, a green t-shirt with a jacket, had a very soothing personality and a smile that can make anyone his friend in a minute or even less. I was instantly very comfortable.
I stepped into his office and sat down on the chair directly facing him. He was doing some files so I took the liberty of checking his office out. It was amazing, the emulsion on walls, the fish aquarium, the meaningless paintings that I never understood, few certificates that boasted how good the publishing house is and few pictures of India’s most renowned novelist who r now a force to reckon with. I almost imagined my photo hanging right next to India’s most loved author; this fantasy was so pleasing in itself that I smiled to myself.
“So Sudhanshu, why do you want to be a writer?”
My smile vanished and I saw him looking at me with a pleasant smile, I felt bad that he noticed me looking at wall photo and smiling like an idiot, the guy must have thought I am nuts. And above that, he asked such a difficult question. Why do I want to be a writer, hmmm let me see; because that’s the only thing I am good at, or I don’t want to be an engineer slave of a multinational company anything else would do, or I love writing and its fun to tell others how you feel and it is so lovely to receive compliments on your writing skills. So many answers I had to a simple one line question but I chose none of them and gave a very stupid stammering answer.
“I-I don’t know sir.”
Crap Sud, you blew it. That was so lame. Now he will say thank you very much now you may leave. But nothing like that happened. He laughed out loud and said
“Easy kid, this is not an interview.”
I am not sure I liked him calling me a kid but that reminded me of someone very close to my heart. My Geet Di use to call me kid. Anyways he closed all his files and asked me plug in my pen drive. I obeyed. He took some almonds out of to his pocket and offered me few, which I accepted. He asked me to sit on a sofa behind while he started reading 5 underdogs. He had a paper on his desk and a pencil in writing position in his hand. And he started reading, with tons of concentration. I sat there on sofa with my eyes buried deep in his face to notice any change in his facial expressions. I was nervous again…
Exactly 37mins into reading the novel he burst into laughter, I was initially taken aback by this but then I mentally hi-fived myself. This is going great Sud. I messaged the same to my room partner Ishu, who was anxious about how the things are going with me. Then this happened time and time again, cant tell you guys it boosted my moral like anything. 5hrs or so into reading he turned to me with a very serious expression and asked-
“Did this actually happened kid?”
I replied back in a smile…
TO BE CONTINUED……
Part 2
He continued reading, and I immersed my eyes deeper in his face trying to pick up every bit of emotion he displays. I must confess I was getting very positive vibes. It was almost 12 when he got up from his chair arched his back and gave me a warm smiling look. I saw his eyes they were light red and still he wanted to get back to reading.
‘Workaholic’ I thought.
As I was sitting there and watching him unwind himself he abruptly spoke.
“Hey Kid, feel like having a cigarette??”
Oh, crap! Has he lost his mind?
He was offering me a cigarette. I wanted to say ‘no sir, I don’t smoke’ but my body needed nicotine. It was a long hard day, I spent almost 6hrs or so, on a couch and my ass was burning and my back was numb. What smoking has to do with my writing and my novel anyway? Adding to that he was also smoking with me so ‘smoking is injurious to health’ and that entire crappy lecture which one usually bears on DD channel was ruled out from him. Trust me every smoker knows cigarette is injurious to health, and anyone’s dumb lecture on that won’t help. Like an idiot I smiled and accepted his offer. We walked down the corridor and into the open. He took a packet of Benson and hedges from his pocket and offered me one, I elegantly took one out and he did the same. Then he took a lighter out and like an actor from south Indian movies he lit his cigarette. Well, to be honest I wanted to try his style of lighting up cigarette but I stuck to the traditional way of lighting up the fag. I was curious to know how he knew that I was a smoker. I was a non-smoker and a kind of anti-smoker guy back then when this novel was written. Neither I smoked nor did I like people who smoked back then.
This guy is enigmatic. He knew things about me. I decided to ask.
“Sir, how did you know I smoke?”
He took one deep drag, and when I say deep, I mean real deep, the kind of breath which one inhales on early morning yoga TV shows, hot girls doing pranayama in totally irrelevant type of outfits. He exhaled in style, making rings, and then another ring that passed into that ring. I could feel him easing and feeling good instantly. He was relaxed and calm. Dopamine inside the fag was doing its job instantly. Cigarette rocks if you ask me, scientist should start working on making harmless cigarettes. If cigarettes without the potential hazard of cancer are invented, it’s my strong believe, they can outsell every possible good that humans manufacture and need. I took one drag 1/4th volume of what he took and then stared softly at him for reply
“Kid, you are an engineering student with screwed up grades and looking for an alternate career desperately; surely you do smoke.”
Okay, that was rude. I felt like saying there is a tale behind every D and F grade in my grade sheet and c’mon man I didn’t expected him to categorise every smoker as loser. SRK smokes, Chester smokes, and if one has sufficiently free time he will end up discovering that very successful and established men and women from every possible field smokes. But I wanted to hit him right in his face. How dare he insult smoker fraternity?
“Sir, you are the chief publisher of one of the most renowned publishing house, earning a rainbow. A job that many dream of, why in the world makes you a smoker?”
He burst into laughter in the middle of his drag, laughing and coughing and with his free hand waving the smoke away from his face. BINGO! The punch did hit him hard.
“
You are one quick witted asshole, aren’t you?”
“Errrr…..” Oh my god, did he just say asshole? What did he have in those cigarettes? weed? Hash? or what? I remembered my 1st time smoking hash when I talked shit all night to my roomie. Then I ended up sleeping on the floor of my room with my shoes as my pillow. I gave my cigarette a long investigative look and then I decided to put it off in a way that he wouldn’t notice. ‘I won’t be writer’ I told myself.
“Oh c’mon kid, you have heard the word before haven’t you. And stop calling me sir; call me Abhijeet or Abhi for simplicity. Sir makes me feel old.”
There was I smoking my favourite brand of cigarette in a totally strange place with a man who is enigmatic, to say the least, who is a bit high after 2-3 drags. ‘Man! I am having the time of my life’ I thought. He continued.
“You know what kiddo; there is a story behind why I smoke. There are hidden skeletons in everyone’s closet. But u should also know, you are here to tell me stories, not the vice versa.” And he smiled as he made one ring of smoke pass into another.
“My cigarette went off; can you light it up again?” I innocently showed him my cigarette, it was like a child showing his mother his broken toy and asking her to fix it. Though my toy was lethal and this mother of mine called me an asshole few minutes ago. We both smoked in complete silence for next 3 minutes and then we walked back to his cabin. An unspoken understanding between both of us, none spoke but both understood every gesture.
He sat down on his chair, went round in circle once and then started reading again. I quietly sat down on my couch and waited for him to finish. I was feeling sleepy, so I dozed off. It’s totally safe to have a small nap. This guy is all cool.
“Oh my god!!”
I heard someone scream. I woke up from my nap in a sudden shock. I was having blurred vision due to the nap I took. I checked around, everything was just fine; Abhi was busy reading my novel. I checked time in my watch, It was 2am. Bad dream I comforted myself. I made myself comfortable on that couch and went back to sleep again. I took one deep breath and then again-
“Fuck !!!”
I saw Abhi was having his hands on his head and he was shaking his head in disbelief. His eyes were wide spread and he was staring at him computer screen.
‘Oh, I, see, he has reached the climax portion.’ I told myself. Great! Few minutes more. You will have you mouth half open. Eyes full of amazement and shock and then after few more minutes you will burst out laughing with corners of your eyes wet with a small tear drop. And this is what exactly happened just the crying part excluded…
To be Continued….
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