A Day Out of a Writer's Diary
by Nuggehalli Pankaja
Deadline today. . . . . . and here I was still scribbling furiously the rough!
Oh God, I groaned.. .. .. When do I rewrite? Give it the needed polish? And dispatch it within the scheduled time? Till now I am noted for my promptness, and it wouldn’t to relax now that I am recognized……. ..
With all these thoughts in my mind, I steered my pen through the maze of rebellious characters, snubbing some, highlighting others, donning the role of creator!
Wasn’t it fun to hold the fate of so many in my fragile pen?
Just then , my husband’s sharp voice sliced the dream-land.
“What is this! There is no bread! Not even a slice! And I am hungry- famished!”-He complained with self-pity.. I didn’t reply; he became really angry. The spate that followed would have made lesser mortals quiver with fright and be washed away, but not me on cloud nine. Merrily, did I continue my pen-work unperturbed…………..
The showdown came when the maid-servant made her royal appearance. First thing she does on entering is, to bring the big tumbler for fresh strong coffee; Immediately one of us fly to the kitchen-and attend as to a goddess.
Otherwise, broom in my hand instead of pen-- unwashed vessels, clothes piled …..ugh!
Controlling his ire, my husband went to the kitchen and opened the coffee strainer... Oh.God, it was empty. . . . .and unwashed!
That was the limit! How long could such a situation go on? If anybody else had been in his shoes, I would have been shown the door long back! Patience and goodness have their own limitations, and he has been tried too often, but no more! NO,NOT ANY MORE! After all, he was also a human being, expecting normal attention-love-sympathy, etc etc. Living with poets and artists was enough to make anyone MAD! They seemed to be more concerned in solving the problems of lifeless heroines, and pampering the dashing heroes, than the very much alive, worn-out husband!
The quiet house was soon transformed into a bear-garden, with each of us shouting at one another. Couldn’t he understand that I was different? Not at all abnormal as his people thought, but supernormal? Just because his sister didn’t write, should I also dwindle time in idle gossip? Waste myself all day in the kitchen? Drain my talent in attending to him and his brood, all the twenty-four hours? Why, I would go to pieces in a day! Was I not bringing money, apart from the fame he reveled in whenever introduced as the famous writer’s husband? When you welcome the plus points, you should adjust to the minus points also--, no sir?’
After using this line of argument, I ended up with my habitual threat-
“I will walk out if you don’t stop harassing me like this”
Usually that would bring him back to his senses. Not so this time!
“Please do”-He requested.
I was shocked! SHELL SHOCKED!
With my parents in the other world, children abroad, even siblings global, where do I walk into? Like the heroines of T.V serials?
“Give me time”—I begged, in a milder tone.
Am still buying time…………..