How have you adapted to the changes brought on by the Covid-19 pandemic?

I was a student in the higher class of my school life. Dreams and ambitions I had many and I thought I could do it all. I tried my best.

I had started to mature late for boys of my age. I wasn’t alone though, my best friend seemed to be in the same boat.

We had not a worry in the world, life was beautiful with books to read and games to play. But though late, it came one day… the sense of growing.

It was library class and I was browsing through the books on the shelves. One book caught my eyes. Brown torn cover, not in a particularly good shape, local writer whose name I cannot recall. The text of the book was not affected by its condition though, it was clearly visible.

So, I took the book and sat on a chair to go through its text. It was a story about a little girl who loved to help her father make earthen pots. I will tell you the story some day.

The essence of the village had been captured quite beautifully, hence it is a great shame that I cannot recall the writer’s name.

What caught my attention was a character who had the same name as me. This was the first time in life I had come across a character in the book who had my name. I knew it wasn’t, but I wanted it to be mine, my name in the book, indicating no one else but me. I wanted to achieve this.

So, I learnt everything about writing books and tried my hand at it. I was getting better and after completing my education, here I was, an investment advisor. Yes, I did not become a writer. But, the incomplete dream never quite left. So, what do you think I did about it?”

Mr Shah looked at his niece expecting a response. His niece had started her job life and she was trying her best to balance between listening to Mr Shah and going through her emails and she did give a response.

“You must have found a writer and asked him/her to make you a character in his/her book.”

Mr Shah smiled, “Yes, I did find a writer, 18 days back from today.
Infected with Covid 19, at the peak of the second wave, I lied in my bed afraid of everything I would not be able to do if I didn’t make it. Hence, when I got better I decided to do them one by one.
The writer didn’t write it though, I wrote the story myself, with me, just like I wanted. I found a young writer compiling short stories and sent her this story in which a character was me. She liked it and promised to send a copy. I am awaiting its arrival.”

“It will arrive soon, this book consisting of a story, with you in it.” Mr Shah’s niece looked at him and smiled and Mr Shah had joy in his eyes.

Written by Anuran Chatterji

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