I was watching the last episodes of Game of Thrones's fifth season, and I was going to offer some savvy words to the show's director about Jon Snow's shocking death when my phone alerted me that I had received an email. I took a moment from the end credits to glance at my phone. My heart began to take in more blood. It was an email from a publishing company about their decision on my book, which I had submitted one month earlier. My fingers were buzzing like a tuning fork, and I was wetting myself profusely. I opened the mail;
Dear Aryan Ahire,
Thank you for submitting your work. However, we regret to tell you that your submission was not approved. We believed it was not appropriate for the subject matter. We genuinely hope you will write and cooperate with us again in the future. If you submit again, please try to add some ethical and natural values to your character and avoid idealizing it. Thank you, and good luck with your writing!
After reading this, my heart was broken, and I hoped for the best. It was my 52nd rejection; it was familiar to me now. Why should I endow my character with so-called non-idealistic principles if I am creating a fictional novel? I couldn't help but feel like a defunct bed bug. It took me four years to get my bachelor's degree in electrical engineering. Now that my father is also paying the debt for my studies, I have quit my solid employment to follow my ambition of being a successful writer. My mind was racing with a sea of thoughts after reading this email. I cursed myself like a witch; it felt like a mistake to me.
I shut down my laptop and stepped out onto the balcony to get some fresh air. My future was a source of trepidation for me. The level of craftsmanship in my writing troubled me. Has my writing been rejected 52 times because it is so subpar? But I cherished memories of my youth. In my school years, I was consistently a prominent writer. I consistently received accolades for my writing. Yes, I love to write, and despite some rejections, I won't give it up. I took a big breath and went back to my room, where I sat down on my bed. I grabbed my laptop and deleted the "Miles with Smiles" Word document. I started over with a new page and a fresh tale. I could not help but get some pings of hunger after penning the first letter of my book. I completely forgot to eat my supper since I was so engrossed in Game of Thrones!
I walked over to the kitchen. I wasn't married or involved in a romantic partnership of any kind. The refrigerator in my sloppy kitchen held just the leftover pizza from yesterday when I opened it to prepare dinner. I took the remaining pizza and a bottle of Coke that was almost finished. I sat on my bed and started eating it. I felt anxious about having to pay my house rent the following day while eating cold pizza.
I finished my opulent meal and headed for bed. I opened the window for some cool air because I was unable to pay the power bill. The sounds caused my phone to vibrate. My spine tingled with fretting as soon as I noticed my phone's screen. My father unexpectedly contacted me. I flipped the red button, and we started speaking.
"Hello Aryan", Father made his first serious gesture.
"Namaste, Papa" I replied with an obedient tone.
"When will your book be available for purchase?" I was checkmated in his second voice when he questioned me.
I said in a submissive tone, "Yes, Dad, I have spoken to a publisher about this, and he is going to reply to me after some days."
"Hmm. Will your book pages be enough to feed you for the next month?"
"Yes, Papa, I'll give you a call later. I have to make an urgent call." I lied.
"Okay," Papa replied.
I put my phone on aeroplane mode and cried. I am my father's most pointless son. I was unable to make any money at the age of 24 for my survival. Most of the worst periods of my life were when my father paid my education loan, and the second is about this. The next day I turned on my phone and saw a message in my box.
'Fifty thousand rupees were transferred to your bank account by Dinesh Ahire.'
This brightened up my morning. My father is a hero. He is aware of what I am experiencing, yet he keeps it to himself while I am around. I brushed my teeth and deposited 5,000 rupees to the owner of my home.
I made the decision to organize my room on a Sunday. I found several worthless boxes that were of no use to me, and I even opened one of the boxes to see whether it had anything crucial. What's this? I found my diary, which is where I kept my early drafts of imaginary novels. I flicked through the pages and quickly skimmed them. The unfinished narrative that I don't really recall was found. As I read that tale, a thought suddenly came to me. Yes, I discovered the story. I hurried to my laptop and quickly saved my unfinished Word document, and named that file " The White Shadow."
After saving my file, I decided to take a bath. It was for the first time that I was going to take bath early that to on Sunday! I took my towel and landed in my bathroom. In my shower, while turning I heard the sound of my doorbell.
Oh my, who is that?
After wrapping my towel, I headed back to my door and opened it.
"Hello, my name is Manish. I'm here with a whole new product." The strange man responded.
"Hello, but I'm not interested. Sorry!" I graciously responded.
"Just pay attention to me, sir; don't buy. I am giving you my unpaid advice!"
With a loud bang, I shut my door and went guilt-free to the bathroom. I felt so calm after using the bathroom for a while. On my Twitter account, I wrote, "Hey, good morning, #writingcommunity," at about 10 in the morning. I had ten followers, and six of them were fake accounts that I created.
I was confident as I opened my Word document and began writing. I wrote for a thousand words and then stopped for three hours. After finishing a fresh piece of writing, I felt unsettled. I was under a lot of stress due to my unemployment, yet my wallet never felt heavy. To keep my tummy fed, I was obligated to complete the task. It can take a year to get a book to market, which makes publishing it an extremely challenging undertaking. Until then, I don't want my father to fill my wallet with the fruits of his labour.
Knowing that I can only rely on one person for assistance during these trying times, I made the choice to call one of my friends to inquire whether his company had any openings that might make me feel satisfied. I entered Tanishq's name and his phone number after using my four-digit password to unlock my phone while looking upbeat.
"Hello, Tanishq." I am Aryan.
"Bro, I've saved your phone number. Speak." He laughed as he responded.
"I had one request," I said.
"Will you kindly stop ordering pizza using my phone number before you make the request? Every time you order 10 big pizzas with extra cheese, pizza delivery companies contacts me to inquire whether you still have them in your order.
"Oh, it was you, right? Sorry, I assumed you were simply becoming more well-liked by pizza merchants." I laughed.
"No, I don't require that kind of fame. For the past week, my phone has been ringing nonstop." He responded in a worried manner.
"All right, I'll quit now. But before I quit calling your phone, can I at least place one more pizza order?"
"I'll only eat it if you give me a slice." He agreed.
"Deal!" I chuckled.
"What made you dial?" He asked.
"Yes, could you kindly help me get a position at your company?"
"Will you work with me as a salesperson? Earlier today, my partner quit his job. Send me your resume, and I'll give it to my employer."
"What?" I was confused since I had assumed he would offer me a decent career in the IT field. Since I had been schooled as an electrical engineer and wanted to become a writer, I was aware that this position would not be a good fit for me. I couldn't be fussy, though, because I needed a job to exist.
"Should I then fix it?" He queried.
"Ok!" I answered in a grave tone.
I emailed my CV with a huge gulp. Knowing that this job would require a difficult adjustment, I agreed to the salesman position. I have no prior experience in the sales or marketing industries. I looked at a few YouTube videos on the subject. The next day, I started working for the company, which gave me training and a uniform.
I felt really strange after donning the costume. We were tasked with marketing a hair shampoo bottle to each home and store. I had a terrible time persuading individuals to purchase this stuff. But because of my friend Tanishq, who assisted me in learning this work, we were able to have fun together. Everything was going well; I was making enough money to get by. It was a nine-to-five job, and I would finish my unfinished manuscript when I got home.
I was coming back home peacefully after four months on a misty, foggy night. Suddenly, there was a strong deluge. I sprinted over to the bus station and hid there. I was drenched like a catfish as I aimlessly observed the showers. After a little while, a young woman who appeared to be close to my age ran towards the bus stop and stood next to me. She was wearing a beautiful traditional Indian white kurta and blue jeans.
Even in such smoky and gloomy surroundings, she looked stunning, and I couldn't help but abandon my Sigma masculine mindset. For a long time, we both stood still, looking at the rain for some reason. She finally broke the awkward pause between us and began to speak, filling the void with her enchanting voice. She turned towards me while fixing her hair on her ear and asked my name.
"I am Aryan Ahire," I replied a little sheepishly.
Hello, I'm Daisy. She smiled.
I saw her smile, and my heart began to race.
"Are you a Catholic?" Without thinking, I asked.
She gave me an expression of confusion. "No, why do you ask?"
I realized how insensitive it was to assume someone's religion was like that. I apologize; it was a silly question. "I'm sorry, it was a stupid question. Most people in India are Hindu or Muslim, and being Catholic is really uncommon in India, so I was interested."
"I'm not Catholic, Aryan; I just adore that name since it belongs to one of my favourite characters." She answered in a charming tone.
"O wow, character! Which book? I asked with a curious voice."
"Not the book actually; the book will be released in the future."
"Are you a writer? I am also a writer; on what theme are you writing your book?" I bombarded her with tons of questions on her cute face.
"I am not a writer; I am an artist. I paint and sell my pictures, and I work at school as a drawing teacher."
"Wow, that's great! You are an artist. The writer needs thousands of words to describe their theme, and your one painting is worth a thousand words!" I exclaimed with great wording.
"It is not like that, Aryan; you are too philosophical. Every art has its importance."
But soon after, the rain stopped, and she quickly said goodbye and walked away. "Daisy Wait", I called out. "Do you have a raincoat or an umbrella or something? It's still pretty muddy and wet out there."
She turned back like a film star. "No, I don't. But it's okay, I'll just run."
I looked at her sceptically. "You sure? It's pouring out there."
She laughed. "I'll be fine. Thanks, though. See you around, Aryan." She smiled again.
As she ran off into the rain, I couldn't help but feel a little disappointed that it ended so quickly with such a profound impact on me. But I made a mental note to remember her name and hoped that our paths would cross again in the future.
I walked back to my home with a spring in my step; I jumped for joy, but unfortunately, I fell into the pit of mud. I think I was too excited. My blue uniform turned brown. I came back to my home, opened my door, and went for a bath. For the first time in a long time, I felt a softness like rabbit fur in my heart that I couldn't quite explain. As I lay on my bed that night, I was not able to stop my thoughts about her. Oh God! Her smile, her laugh, the way she blinked her eyes, her voice, the way she fixed her hair on her ear - it etched itself in my mind. I hugged my pillow tightly, as if it were her, and drifted off to sleep with a contented sigh.
Over the next few weeks, I checked my social media for a friend request from her. I searched her name on every social media platform, but I didn't find anything about her. I even asked kids in my neighbourhood about the drawing teacher. I even found myself going to the bus stop at the same time each day, hoping to bump into her again. I was again very disappointed at not seeing any sign of her. While talking with her, I forgot all my worries about the world. Meeting her made me realize that there was more to life than just work and goals. Accidental moments in life are game-changing.
One day, after eating my dinner, I decided to walk towards the bus stop. As I sat at the bus stop with the worries of my life, lost in thought, I felt a sense of calmness as the cold breeze dashed my body. I decided to call it a casual night. As I stood up from my place, I heard an intense, lovely voice vibrating in my ear and the air.
"Hey, Aryan, is that you?"
I turned around and saw Daisy walking towards me. I couldn't believe my God, thank you so much, God. "Dasiyyy! Hi! How are you?"
"I'm good, thanks. What are you doing here at this time?" she asked.
"I was just taking a walk. I didn't expect to run into you again," I said, smiling and blushing.
Einstein said well, "When you sit with a nice girl for two hours, you think it's only a minute, but when you sit on a hot stove for a minute, you think it's two hours. That's relativity. For me, this was not relativity; it was just the captivity of her smile that attracted me like gravity. We spent the next hour laughing and nodding to each other's statements. We talked about our professions, our hobbies, our goals, and our families. Hours were passing like microseconds. It was around twelve thirty at night. She ended her conversation while looking at her watch. As we said our bye-bye, I knew that it was a lovely hour. I did not want to let her go this time.
"Can we meet daily at this place at eleven at night?" She asked.
After listening to this, I just wanted to jump like a kangaroo! I said "yes" patiently.
She smiled and nodded. "I'd like that."
As I returned home, I was very grateful to God. Meeting her was like a smiley moment in my life. Meeting strangers is a strange experience. We were just present in our present lives. Both of us were not aware of our past and future lives. The universe is good at making unexpected things become expected.
It was like a dream for me; we were meeting each other every day at the bus stop and every night at eleven. Our gossips were very deep; we talked about everything under the moon. When we talked, the air was filled with plenty of emotions: laughter, sadness, worries, sympathy, and whatnot! We did not have many things in common, but like attracts unlike. The nightly meetings were making us closer and closer. The distance between our seats was decreasing as the days passed. I found a good sense of love in Daisy.
Love is a great way to make someone look like a perfect human, and hatred is a good way to make someone look like an imperfect human. One cloudy night, we sat together, forgetting our outer world, on the bench, watching the rain fall around us. The sound of rain covered the sound of our heartbeats. Everything seems meaningful when she is around me. Daisy turned to me and said, "Thank you for being here with me, Aryan. I feel like a free bird when I am with you." I smiled, my heart filling with affection for her. "Yes, Daisy. That is how friends are."
"Just friends?" she blushed.
I looked down for no reason and pretended that I was not aware of what she said at that moment.
"Aryan, I think you are trying to be ideal; don't be ideal, just be yourself," Daisy said while looking towards the sky.
The phrase sounded familiar, and I nodded with a smile.
The next day, as usual, I went on time, and Daisy was standing near the car.
"Hey, Daisy what's up? Today why here? And is this your car?" I asked.
"No, it's my dad's car. He left the car here only due to issues with the brakes. Can you fix it?"
"Yes, I can! I am an engineer by profession; just guide me to the problem. Did you call the mechanic?"
"Yes, I called, but he went back because of some urgent personal problem. He left his instrument here alone. He told me to fix those nuts and bolts. It's just a matter of seconds. Are you willing to do this?"
"Yes, sure! Hand me those instruments."
"Take it, here it is." She pointed to the bag in which the instruments were kept. I took the bag; it was heavy. I opened the bag and took out the instruments.
"Are you sure about it? I want to fix these bolts."
"Yes, Aryan! "Are you doubting me?"
"No, no, not at all, just confirming." I fixed it as she guided me. It took about ten minutes to do the work. I was not aware of the mechanical properties of the car. I just followed what she said. After finishing the work, I asked her about the car, and she replied with ignorance. I was not in the mood to ask her a question and spoil her night.
Aryan, you can go now; my father must be coming. He will be angry if he sees you. He doesn't like me to be with boys at night.
"Ok," I shrugged.
I left her with a goodbye and a warm smile. I slept last night without any confusion. I was thinking about her all night. The next day it was around nine, and I woke up late!
I hurriedly packed my office things and went to my office on my bike. I was really worried about my boss; he does not like latecomers. After riding for a few minutes, I saw a car that crashed with great force. He dashed to the divider of the road. I was able to see splashes of blood on the windshield of the car. I prayed for the driver and made my way towards my office. After reaching the office, my boss was waiting for me like a wife waiting for her drunk husband.
I was late for two hours, and my boss was throwing very good words at me. I saw Tanishq laughing at me. My boss handed over some more extra work for me and asked Tanishq to join me. We were given the task of distributing two hundred bottles of shampoo. The task was very laborious; I was returning home at eleven thirty at night. I thought I would not be able to meet Dasiy today. I thought after meeting her that I would be recharged by her smile.
I was passing through an unknown street, and one girl from very far gave a sign with her hand. When I approached closer, I saw she was Dasiy! My heart felt filled with joy. "Hey, Dasiy, why are you here?" I asked with excitement.
"My house is near this street. Can you come with me to fix the fuse in my house? No one is at my home, and the light is also not there." She requested.
"Just leave your bike here; strangers with bikes are not allowed in my society at night."
I parked my bike beside the road under the tree. I felt a rush running through my veins when Daisy called me to come with her to fix the fuse at her house. We started walking towards her house, the darkness making the street look eerie like a Hollywood horror movie. I was only able to hear the sounds of my footsteps. Daisy walked with me, but I was not able to hear her footsteps. I appreciated the way she walked and how sweetly she was walking. Even the roads were not showing any reaction toward her. After a long journey, we both reached her house, which was a well-built bungalow. We reached the backyard of her house, where all the electrical wiring was stationed.
She asked me to open the door of the room where all the electrical fuses were situated. We entered the dark room. I took out my mobile and turned on my flashlight. I kept my flashlight in a good position so that I could see the appliances properly. I took one wooden stick from the yard to fix the fuse. I started working like a mad scientist on it; I felt like I am a great Nikola Tesla. The tension in the air was swimming, and I could not help but steal glances at her beautiful face. After working hard, finally, the light flickered on, and we both let out a sigh of relief. Then suddenly, I heard a scream from a man. I got scared after hearing this. Daisy was in her normal state.
"Who was he?" I asked with fear flowing through every nerve in my body.
"Don't worry, the man must be beaten by his wife. They both fight every night. It's now normal for me to hear husband-wife conflicts, which you know well."
"Oh, yes, I can understand. Are you satisfied with the work?" I asked.
"Thank you so much, dear! I am happy now. Can we have a walk?" She asked in an innocent tone.
"Yes, I am always ready!"
As we walked down the dark and empty street, my emotions were trying to find a way to come out but were blocked by the thoughts of Daisy's negative reaction. It took about a month for me to understand every word Daisy said. My feelings toward her were shifting every day. As we approached the bus stop, she unexpectedly stopped and turned around to me. "I have to tell you something serious," she said, and for the first time, I heard her heavy voice.
"I've been feeling the same way as you. I just didn't know how to spit it out."
My heart raced like a Formula One racing car as I heard her words. Is it true that she felt the same way about me? Was she about to confess her love?
But before I could say anything, she continued, "I think we should take things slow." "I value our friendship, and I don't want to risk losing it."
Although my heart sank at her pinning words, as a writer of unpublished books, I understood where she was going to stop. I didn't want to ruin our friendship either. So I smiled and agreed, telling her that I was happy just being with her.
"Aryan, remember one thing: don't let any woman feel like an object; you are a good person, but I am too small to fix in your life. Your life is so meaningful; just try to make it natural; don't try to make it ideal."
I nodded and smiled. I went back to my home because I was feeling so heartless and heavy. Why are people always rejecting me? I slept with one of my dark memories. The very next day, I was back to the life I led one month ago.
I came to the office and started doing my work. During lunchtime, Tanishq showed me a newspaper and said,
"See here, two people mysteriously died in your locality." He said this while showing me a newspaper.
"Don't suck me, bro; I am very screwed now." I ignored his news.
The next day, I went to the bus stop and waited for her. Unfortunately, she did not come. I went there for successive days, but the result was the same. She was not present there whenever I visited there. I lost hope and never went back to that place. It was good that I did not have a photo of her to delete from my phone, no social media accounts, no phone number, and no real name or family name. It had been around eight months now, and everything was running smoothly. My father was happy with what I was doing. Tanishq and I were living together, and I was a good company with him. On Women's Day, I was delivering bottles of shampoo to every house. The summer was coming, and I was exhausted. I landed at an old house. I knocked on the door, and the door was opened by an old, ageing man.
"Sir, I am Aryan, a salesman. Sir, can you please fill my bottle with water? I am not getting any shops in this area."
"Yes, sure, come in and have a seat. I will fill your bottle." the old man welcomed me. I entered his home. I almost had a heart attack when I saw a photo of Dasiy hanging on the wall with a garland of flowers!
"Sir, is that your relative?"
"Yes, she was my daughter, who died five years ago."
After listing this, I was feeling heavy; my head was cracking from the inside. I was not able to balance my body, and at last, I fainted. It was an evening when I opened my eyes, and the old man and Tanishq were sitting beside me.
"Hey, are you okay?" The old man asked.
"Nothing just exertion type, sorry for having trouble."
"Don't say sorry; I will bring some tea and cookies for you. Just sit here."
"Are you okay, bro?" Tanishq asked me.
"Yes," I replied.
The old man brought three cups of tea and a plate full of cookies. I took a sip of tea and felt some relief.
"Sir, I'm sorry to ask, but how did your daughter die?"
"She was raped and murdered by the two bastards." The old man raged with anger; I could sense the spark of fire in his eyes.
"What? What about the police and court cases?"
"They both were sons of millionaires, and I was a retired bus driver." He replied with the fact.
"I could understand, sir; justice is only for millionaires."
"But justice was served, and both of them died mysteriously. One died in a car accident due to brake failure, and one died due to electric shock. I don't know who served this justice, but the one who served this justice must have a life full of many meaningful things."
"Yes, sir, his life is full of meaningful things," I said while holding the hand of an old man. I hugged the old man and went back to my home.
It had been around a year now that I was working in a good IT sector job with a handsome package. While leaving the office, my phone rang; it was my editor.
"Hey Aryan, You requested to change the name of the character. What name do you want?"
"Daisy," I replied.
"Name seems like that of an angel,"
Yes, she is...
