I was at my wits end. My editor had been after my life to submit a thrilling story, but my brain was jammed, the grey cells seemed to have frozen. My fingers and hands too were protesting, they wanted freedom from typing and my legs were reprimanding my body for not having gone on a run.
To thaw out the freeze, I moved to the balcony, to watch the goings on outside, on the road. The two wheelers seemed to have taken over the roads. They were everywhere, in all shades under the sun. From staid black and white to electric blue and neon green. The river of flowing helmets added another dimension. If a Martian were to land, I wonder what they would think about the human anatomy. Shiny smooth metallic heads with visors and wheels as limbs, probably. Over the cacophony of the two wheelers, the racing cars and the speeding buses, there were jay walkers merrily crossing the roads, along with little boys, ‘Chottus’ carrying the ubiquitous tea thermoses and paper cups. Whistling, “Mai hoon na…. Mai hoon na…” Cheeky fellas.
And the inevitable happened, a black hooded biker overtook a staid pink scooty from the left and as the Pink helmet raised her left arm towards Mr. Black, who vroomed ahead zig zagging between buses, cars and more colourful scooters, the chaiwallah Chottu stepped off the kerb, without a care. The loud screeching of brakes all around was like a symphonic orchestra… everything drew to a halt instantaneously. Some- where they were, some on top of whatever stood next. In the silence, Chottu’s whistling wafted loud and clear. Time froze… like in Mission Impossible and then like magic everyone unfroze. Oh, the din! The honking, the shouting, and the abuses, in most Indian languages, along with English ones too.
I swallowed the panic that had engulfed me, watching the epinephrine pumping scene. I stepped back into my room. The glowing screen of my phone revealed another horrifying message from the editor. What did she think I was… a magician? Did thrilling stories grow on trees?
Oh, for God’s sake someone please give me an idea! For God’s sake someone please give me a plot! For God’s sake someone please give me a thrilling conflict! I will find the resolution! I spoke aloud… to no one of course!
I was wondering whether I should have some more steaming coffee or steal some of my wife’s exotic green tea. And I jumped out of my chair stammering “Whaat! Wh…wh… who are you?”
“Stop screeching, will you? It gives me a headache”, said the thing… the apparition.
It was broad daylight and I had only had 6 cups of coffee. I don’t drink alcohol, so I was not inebriated, but I could see a ghost… in my room! My wife had been predicting this day… when I would cross over to the nether world!
I mustered all my courage, after all I had nothing to lose… apart from my mind! (Which was empty if the editor was to be believed!)
“I am Mona, inspirer-in- chief! Ok You can call me a ghost. I used to be a ghost writer when I was alive. I continue to do the same now.”
“But why have you come here? To my house?”
“You evoked me… chanting For God’s sake precisely 3 times! I don’t have all day standing around answering foolish questions, you know. What do you need?”
“ Hello! Mona inspirer-in-chief! I….” and I spilled the beans. Including what I thought of the editor.
“Ok! You have put yourself in some hot soup, friend” she drawled. “ This is what I think is a good idea…” and she dictated me a story so exciting, so thrilling, so mind boggling… I had to drag my eyes to my laptop, to avoid staring at her like a dog at a dinosaur bone.
As I kept typing, listening to her monotonous drawl, chuckling to myself… I could picture her face… my editor’s- and the joy that spontaneously erupted thawed out all the frozen cells in my brain and elsewhere. I was literally dancing in exhilaration, as I mailed the manuscript. The last key clicked, and I turned to thank my muse… but there was no one in the room!
The temperatures suddenly dropped, and I felt extremely cold in the freezing atmosphere, as my eyes rested on the tree outside my balcony. I could see two transparent females laughing on the branches and one definitely looked like Mona, the inspirator-in- chief!
PS: The story won me not only appreciation but a yearlong contract. It has a haunting effect, she said.
Image courtesy the Internet for representation purpose only.
