The Remix of Orchid---Curtain-Raiser-III
Finally it seems “The Remix of Orchid” will be a self-published volume, unlike my last book of poems, “In Harness”. With six years of inputs it cannot be left unpublished if I actually love my work and have given my best during its creation and polishing.
The storyware has made its rounds in the shape of submissions and pitches and it is now tired and spent out. I should now come forward to rehabilitate it, give it the respect of a tired son who has come back from the battlefield, war-weary and defeated. I should not kill it like a mediaeval warlord killing his wounded soldiers relinquishing the battlefield. I just can’t be cruel to my own creation.
What about the financial viability? At this stage I know I’m no J. K. Rowling or Dan Brown. Money would not come like that just because I’ve written a book. At least, six years is a reasonably long time to teach me that. Also, I’ve my experience of getting my earlier book through a reputed publisher. It was such an experience I would not like to repeat, at least so soon. I’ve written that in my earlier blog "Happy With my Muse" linked here.
Then why not ask a big author to write an impressive forward for the work? Well, that’s a great idea. In fact for my last book, I could not arrange one. If any sympathetic soul from our creative fraternity who is “big” enough offers me that big favour to my advantage, I don’t think there is any reason why I should spurn that. But I’m an old-fashioned individual in this respect who believes that in time everything good would happen. Yes, everything good will eventually happen; a very good author would by chance come to know about my writings and would like to associate himself/herself with my writings through his/her precious forward. No need for me to go shopping for that.
Isn’t it romantic, like a princess in captivity dreaming of an able prince coming to liberate her? Well, stories happen everywhere, even in story writing.
Now let me end this issue of curtain-raiser quoting a few passages from my story “A clip in Slow Motion”.
I retreated to my cabin reflecting everything I witnessed. A night of beauty sleep was waiting for me in my cabin. The anchored ship was stable and cool. The sky had patchy clouds, but the Great Bear constellation was clearly visible through the window of my beautiful cabin. I switched off the lights and allowed darkness to inundate the interior. The cabin haunted me no longer. Solitude could be so delightful! Given choice, I would no longer welcome sleep; I would rather wish dream to defer her soporific spell on me. But the nocturnal bliss made her duty-bound. I was soon to snuggle up to her loving care.
‘Which story would you relish tonight,’ she asked me for my choice.
‘Anything sweet’ was my answer. I had completely surrendered myself to her and it was a marvellous feeling to surrender.
‘Then listen to a story of a Nicobari girl. I know you will like it,’ her eyes gleamed with cherubic smile.
I blushed and felt a little curious and asked her how she could come to know about that. She smiled again and said she had been watching me for the entire day. She was amused at my timidity, as she had marked me going near the vivacious Nicobari beauties and retracting so often. She chided me lovingly for my gutlessness and unmanly gestures.Then she started her story.
She was slow and she was sweet. She was rhythmic, and she was poignant. She was warm, exciting, and lively; she was everything that I wanted. Oh, she was life in herself. I was the protagonist and she assumed herself the role of that Nicobari girl. She took me along the farthest she could venture. She showed me everything she had—her glowing buttery skin, her hourglass perfect body, all her hidden beauty spots, all those special spots of must-visit where her skin was the thinnest of thin, where I could feel her warm blood flowing like sylvan rivulets...
A. N. Nanda