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Sample Copy. Not For Distribution.
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Canvas of a
Storyteller
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Publishing-in-support-of,
EDUCREATION PUBLISHING
RZ 94, Sector - 6, Dwarka, New Delhi - 110075 Shubham Vihar, Mangla, Bilaspur, Chhattisgarh - 495001
Website: www.educreation.in __________________________________________________
© Copyright, Author
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, magnetic, optical, chemical, manual, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written consent of its writer.
ISBN: 978-1-61813-409-7
Price: ` 225.00
The opinions/ contents expressed in this book are solely of the author and do not represent the opinions/ standings/ thoughts of Educreation.
Printed in India
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Canvas of a
Storyteller
Aniruddha Pathak
EDUCREATION PUBLISHING (Since 2011)
www.educreation.in
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Dedicated to You.
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Acknowledgement I’ve been blessed to be surrounded by people who have
been the eternal source of positivity helping me live my
passion without any worries. These people deserve a
token of gratitude and words of appreciation. And so I
thank every person who has helped shaping me in my
journey, may it be personal or in writing.
My parents, Mr. Balasaheb Pathak and Mrs.
Ashwini Pathak, are the ones who have helped me climb
up each step, each hurdle in my journey and have
encouraged my passion whenever I felt low. It’s their
efforts and belief in me that I am able to write today, for
which I owe them all my love and accolades. A bunch of
Cadburys to my dear brother, Anurag, who is my first
reader in the house, is the one who forces me to write as
quick as I can whenever I get diverted from writing, is
the one who lets me know what mistakes I have made in
my write-ups, and also suggests improvements, in spite
of his young age.
My mama: Mrs. Shailesh Mandlik, and mami: Mrs.
Seema Mandlik, have played a vital role in my journey.
Also, thank you Chaitali didi and Chinmay for adding a
required glare to my life.
Big thanks to my masi, Mrs. Shweta Deshpande,
who has always encouraged my passion for writing. You
are a poet as well, and I feel no shame in saying that I
have followed your footsteps and stepped into writing.
Huge thanks to Mrs. Sharayu Gulve, my
admiration, for encouraging me every time I needed an
inspiration.
Mr. Nishikant Pathak and Mrs. Rupali Pathak,
thank you for showering me with your blessings.
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My teachers hold an important place in my
learning. Jyoti Joshi ma’am, you have always
encouraged my passion for writing, and it is you who
have selflessly helped me to walk ahead in this journey.
Honorable mentions include Champa Rai ma’am, Rupali
Jadhav ma’am, Sumitra Rajderkar ma’am, Sachin Pathak
sir, Sadhna Hulyalkar ma’am, Shubhada Wagh ma’am,
and Smita Shah ma’am, who have been a vital part of
my school life.
Talking about the mentors, without whom I wouldn’t
have understood the importance of seriousness in
writing, I deeply thank them from the bottom of my
heart for helping me whenever I asked for it.
Neil D’Silva sir, you have helped me a lot in my
journey of writing and are my inspiration. Our
discussions need no appropriate topic; we converse on
anything that we want – straight from writing to music
videos. You have cleared out my doubts; have
encouraged me to improve, and supported me
unconditionally whenever I needed it. Thank you so
much for being there.
Ramesh Grandhi sir, I feel speechless while stating
your importance in my life! You are the one who read
my early musings and approached me to take my passion
for writing seriously. You improved me a lot, I must say.
Despite of your busy schedule, you always find time to
correct my errors and also appreciate me when I show
improvement; and I find no words to thank you for that.
Your calmness has made me learn a lot. Thank you once
again, sir.
Rohan Govenkar sir, just one call made the
difference, I remember. You are the one who provided
me with appropriate solutions and inputs so I could
improve. Many a time I come to you with my head
bursting with doubts, and you answer them beautifully.
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Thank you for the immense efforts you employed on me,
sir. I owe gratitude to all three of you.
More than offline world, the virtual world has
understood my passion. Many groups on Facebook have
been a vital part of my life, and have provided me with
love and appreciation, also, positive criticizing.
Some of the notable mentions are:
‘Writers and Readers’ – the one which gave me a
platform to write extensively, and an audience to value
my efforts. The lively group has helped me flourish in
my writing, and has also gifted me with many amazing
friends and readers who are the prime source of
encouragement.
‘For Writers, By Authors’ – the intellectual
approach of this hard working group has been a major
reason for my improvements in writing. The discussions
are always informative, and the togetherness maintained
in the group deserves an appreciation.
‘Writers Soulmate’ – a group which I administrate,
and am well received and respected there. My members
are very supportive, and I see them improving day by
day. This is a place where I know I am a part of a family,
a bond which can never be broken.
My friends and readers occupy a special place in
my life. Whenever I felt disheartened and wanted to quit
writing, they came to my rescue. Thank you so much all
of you.
Talking about the readers: Oishee Chakraborty,
Reeya Ghosh, Kaveri Sinha, Aadarsh Shrivastava,
Suyog Kurlekar, Shivam Gupta (thank you in helping
me with the title), Komal Priyani, Soumya Soumi,
Sananda Sinha, Poulami Hom, Darshika Garg and
Abhilasha Pant are the names that strike my mind. There
are many more readers, but these people have been
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interactive and have appreciated me each time I wrote
something and have helped me make a progress.
Apart from writing, there have been some people
who have improved me as a person and have helped me
maintain my calmness whenever I felt low.
Priyanka Mishra, my heartfelt sister and chhota
dhamaka, knows me, my likes and dislikes. My rising
temper always dissipates cause of the cheerfulness which
she brings around me.
Shivani Shah, my heartfelt sister, my powerhouse,
has been an ultimate moral support helping me identify
my worth. From being sarcastic to being childish, you
have always been there.
Samridhi Agarwal di, your faith in me is what has
brought me here. You have always tried to make my
perspective a decent one, teaching me the morals of a
successful approach towards life.
Darshita Taretiya, you have been there when I was
stuck into turmoil of emotions, willing to give up on
writing and life. You have been a part of the happenings
in my life, and have supported me like a pillar.
Suyog Kurlekar, my friend, it’s your constant
nagging that made me write this book. You are a
wonderful guy, and would love to be your friend forever.
Prasanth Logan, you know my life, brother. You
have seen my sorrows and have helped me grow. I owe
all my cheer to you for the way you have supported me
on each point of my life.
Tushti Bhatia di and Sandeep Sharma bhaiya, you
both have been an inspiration for me.
A bunch of thanks to my beta readers too: Anshi
Joshi, Abhilasha Pant, Sananda Sinha, Shivani Shah,
Dhruvi Sarda, Darshita Taretiya, Reetika Pandey,
Gunashree Sahana, Shivani Singh, Vismaya
Shivashankaran, Komal Priyani, Jahnavi Arora, Harshita
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Sabharwal, Pari Singh Rathore, Daisy Mahanta, Ayushi
Garg, Sneha Podder and Ishani Kalita who have been
generous to let me know my mistakes and advised me to
improve those – without which I am afraid, the book
would have been dissatisfactory.
Jesal Jani, my editor, you are the reason why my
craft has gained its essence. Thank you for believing in
my work, and adding a glare to it.
Monica Parmar of Pixxetmedia, thank you for
helping me in choosing the title of my book, and also for
designing the magnificent cover for the book.
Thanks to Kavipriya Moorthy and Lavanya Nathan
for helping me write the Tamil part written in one of the
stories.
Last but not the least it’s the Almighty that I would
thank to gift me a happy and prosperous life.
X
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About The Author
Aniruddha Pathak, aged 20 (as on
2016), is a Computer Science student,
and has been into writing since long. He
is the founder of 'Litera Muse', which
helps the authors and readers to unite
under one roof. Apart from writing and
studying, Aniruddha is a music lover,
and likes to spend his time helping the people flourish in
their lives and loves to inspire them. Being an introvert,
he feels less comfortable to write about his life, and his
readers have been his all-time inspiration. He writes
about them, and feels to be a part of their lives, though a
distant one. He believes in learning new things every
day, and hence calls himself an all-time learner.
X
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About The Book
In this rapidly changing world, we come across many
people around us. These people have many shades, some
bright...some dark. They might want to let their feelings
out, but they find it difficult to do so – and we term them
different from the population. The diverse personalities
sometimes make us wonder, what is hidden under their
veil? They show a happy face, while hiding an agony
beneath their expression. Some want to scream with
happiness, but their voices are suppressed even before
they could speak about it. Stand by the people who
mention their sorrows, happiness, pains, agonies, and
much more. You could relate to it, and find them talking
to you. Peep into people's diaries, their midnight
loneliness, find them doing weird stuffs, read their
confessions, hear to the conversations that they hold
with me, and see them either rise up touching the sky or
fall down to the ground. The people. Their stories. One
storyteller.
X
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xiii
Introduction
This book is a work of fiction. This is a collection of
short stories based on people, and my alter ego – Ani, is
the narrator of the story. Ani is a fictional character as
well, and so are the other protagonists in the short
stories.
The short stories are based on the experiences of
people. The stories portray the joy, the sorrows, and
many more expressions of characters; also showing the
way they deal with the sadness and agonies. Though in
some short stories, you might imagine yourself as the
protagonist, voicing your own views about the
circumstances that surround you.
The narrator, Ani, would be showing you his own
drafts which he had written or is writing while talking to
you, and would want you to witness the lives of the
people that are painted in the stories.
You would find many people in there. A baby, a
couple, a husband, a wife, a daughter, a son, and many
more. Some stories might bear a similar or clichéd
theme, but the consequences and struggles would differ.
After all, the stories are based on real lives of people that
surround us, though tagged as fictional. Live their
stories, and stand beside them. See them laughing,
crying, yelling, in pain, and see them telling you about
their lives.
I have always been fascinated to know the
expressions that people hold under their veil; and that
passion has made me write this book. Countless times I
have found it difficult to pen down feelings of several
hearts, but I was determined to do it…no matter what.
Though these stories are imaginary, those are also the
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result of the interaction that I have had with my friends
and the observations that I drew of the people around
me. I wished to write what they feel – in my words – and
here I have done the same.
I hope you would enjoy reading the book, while
understanding the perspectives that I want to convey
through the stories. Thank you for giving me the
privilege to share my work with you. I wish for you a
life rich with motivation, joy, and peace. And I hope that
you will do your part to help in building a new and
peaceful world.
– Aniruddha Pathak
X
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Canvas of a Storyteller
1
Hi. This is a weird way to greet you, I know.
A weird way to start writing as well, I guess.
I sit here in front of my computer, with a steaming
cup of coffee standing in front of me atop the printer.
The desk looks clumsy as it is occupied with my
paperwork, pens, headphones and my mobile hidden
somewhere amidst the cluster.
It’s a Sunday afternoon, the breeze is flowing
gently, and the silence is playing its own music. The
dimness of the sunlight entering through the curtains is
delighting and enthralling.
My room is lit up by the fluorescence of the tubelight,
the fan is rotating at its full speed, and the house is
lonely. I am the only resident in the home as everyone
else is traveling to my mama’s town. This day has really
turned out to be lucky for me; as now I can enjoy my
freedom!
I know this is getting a bit boring for you. So, this is
Ani – technical and colloquial abbreviation of my name:
Aniruddha Pathak. Sitting here with a pair of spectacles
placed over my aquiline nose, I am averagely thin
figured; and talking about my nature, I am much of an
introvert. The introductory part is getting lengthier it
seems, so I better skip it. Let’s get back to the track.
This loneliness has surely helped in encouraging me to
write something. Also, the coffee is beckoning me to
savor it. I should now put my fingers on the keyboard –
oh, they already are – and start typing.
So now that you are reading me, it’s obvious that
you are bound to jump into the surroundings that I
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Aniruddha Pathak
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portray. There are several things that I would like you to
see…to read, precisely.
Several times it happens that we forget to look
around us. Engrossed in our digital devices, or the digital
sets hung on the wall, or rarely into a newspaper, we
don’t pay attention to what’s going on around us. The
nature decorating itself, the people talking and
gossiping, the birds and the animals lost in their own
lifestyles, and many more beautiful adjectives. No, this
isn’t any philosophical lecture that I am giving you, but
this is where we are heading to. The happenings, the
people, the surroundings, and their minds.
Wait for a second; let me guide you to something.
Here, I have a folder named – The Life with Ani. Weird
name again, I know. You’re in for a weird trip, which is
only going to turn weirder. This folder has many things
hidden inside it which I haven’t let anyone read yet.
Finally, it is time for it to be read. All of them are my
brainchildren.
Peep into many worlds, straight from infants to
elderly people – into someone’s diary and their feelings,
into their sorrows and happiness. I won’t deny, there are
some unedited drafts too. Not to worry, I will edit it with
the flow and the passing time.
Pacing it fast, let’s jump into the drafts directly.
Right here, I have this one…wait, let me show you this
one first. Recently, while attending a home warming
ceremony, I had to carry out an enervating yet
entertaining task of babysitting – my masi’s son.
Kids, especially babies, bear frequently changing
thought process. For a second they would cry, the next
second they would find something to play and feel
happy about it; and if they lost interest in that thing, they
would feel sad again. It’s unpredictable, indeed. That
innocence, the unconditional demands, the feelings of
‘what to do’ and ‘what not to do’, those eyes searching
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Canvas of a Storyteller
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for its mother…it’s mesmerizing. While I was playing
with my masi’s son, I could feel the confusion he had
while holding many expressions at once on his chubby
face. Maybe he was irritated with me.
Though I don’t recall what all things I have felt
when I was a kid, probably the same as him, let’s try to
decipher his thoughts. After all, it’s confusing, you
know. Instead of me telling it all, it would be best if you
read it.
I am just coming back after keeping my coffee mug
into the kitchen, till then, enjoy my take on this: ‘No, It’s
Not Okay!’
X
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Aniruddha Pathak
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No, It’s Not Okay!
…and here I am handed over to someone else, yet again.
This time to this boy – whom they call as my bhaiya –
who wears a massive pair of spectacles, has messy hair,
and probably is trying to play with me.
This has now been like a routine for me; to make
these people play. Anyone from the house comes and
sits in front of me and does confusing gestures that I
don’t even understand. Then they try to speak in some
weird language, which is fun. But I think they don’t
know how to… Wait, wait, bhaiya! That piece of Lego
is not meant to be placed there! Here, here!
That bhaiya doesn’t understand me, I suppose.
When I point at the place where the Lego has to be
placed – with my God gifted voice of ‘unh-unh’ – he
keeps asking me, ‘Oh, you want that piece?’ and gives it
to me.
He doesn’t even know how to play games! Heh! I
am more intelligent than him. I…wait…Why are you
picking me up, bhaiya? Put me down, now! Right now I
want to run around the house! Please put me down to the
ground! ‘Ow, let’s swing!’ What? No!
Chapter 01
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Canvas of a Storyteller
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The room is spinning. Or am I? Stupid bhaiya! Why
is he swinging me round around? Ugh! ‘See how he is
laughing!’ he says to someone who I am unable to see
amidst those swings. I am not laughing! You are making
my mouth go wide! I am trying to make a straight face.
But who will see that? Tell me, why do they
misunderstand me so much? I don’t get it.
Hush! Finally he has stopped and is making me sit
on the bed, gently. He is irritating me so much. I guess
he will now go away. Thank God! Wait, is that mom?
Oh, yes. I want to go to my mom! Like, right now!
But how should I tell that to this bhaiya here, who
is all engrossed in his mobile? Wait, he is playing
something on it. I like the games though. Especially the
one where the man with muddy white colored shirt and
brown pants runs hastily on the greenish shaded floor;
and the monkeys chase him. Swoosh, up! Swish, down!
Hay, right! Aye, left! Just glide my finger on the screen
and he listens to me. Is he playing that? I get up on my
knees to peer in the flashing screen.
No, he is playing something else. Some game with
many different colored stones. Nay…I don’t like it;
boring game. Oh, I forgot. I was supposed to ask that
bhaiya to take me to mom.
Bhaiya, bhaiya! I try to draw his attention towards
me, pulling a corner of his shirt. He is looking at me
with a confused face now. I immediately point at mom,
and continue with my chant of ‘unh-unh’.
‘You want to meet masi?’ he says. Masi? Who’s
this? I think he didn’t get me.
Giving up on his stupidity, I decide to pull out my
most favorite weapon – crying aloud.
Waving my hands in the air, pointing towards my
mom, I scream with tears escaping my eyes.
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Aniruddha Pathak
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Bhaiya is picking me up now. I think that bhaiya is
scared. Heehee! Good, good! I should increase my voice
and cry even louder. Wait, what’s that thing that bhaiya
is giving to me? Handing me a toy? Nay, I am not going
to get fooled, bhaiya. I am smart. I will beat your efforts
of making me quiet, hi hi!
‘Unh! Unh!’ I am yelling, directing my tiny fingers
towards my mom. I look at bhaiya with hopes filled in
my eyes and lips tucked out showing my helplessness.
‘Oh, you want to go to your mom…okay.’ He
finally understood me! Not stupid, bhaiya. Yes, yes! I
want to go to my mom, take me there. Now!
P At last, I safely reached into my mom’s arms. It
feels so good. I am smiling at her, and so is she. That charm! My
mom!
She tickles me, and I laugh. She is blinking her eyes
looking at me, it’s so funny! But…I am now feeling
tired; still I want to play!
Though I am being patted on my shoulders at the
moment, I want to see what’s going on around.
I am closing my eyes slowly. I cannot understand
what things are surrounding me; but I hear a familiar
voice.
‘He is asleep; make him sleep on the bed.’ Mom is
addressing someone.
I see through the corner of my small eyes. It’s
bhaiya! My stupid bhaiya!
‘Cover him with a blanket properly.’ Mom tells
him.
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Canvas of a Storyteller
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‘Okay, I will,’ he replies.
‘Okay? No, it’s not okay!’ I try to yell. But my
efforts are eaten by my sleep. I am handed over to
bhaiya now; to force me hit my forehead with my palm,
supposedly. But, now I think I should surrender to my
tiny sleep. Thinking to proceed, I am closing my
eyes…to visit my dreamland, and sleep again.
O
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Aniruddha Pathak
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Canvas of a Storyteller
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.I am sitting here again, searching for another document
that you would read next. Actually, I am confused what I
should offer to you now. No, I am not putting it in an order of the stages of
growing up. Of course not!
Boredom has nearly bored me, so I have now
logged in to my Facebook; WhatsApp is pinging in the
mobile that is calmly lying in front of me, and the
headphones on my ears are booming with Rock and Pop
music. I am glad that the weather has turned drowsy;
drowned in grayish hue, and drippy clouds. Maybe I
should go in the balcony and enjoy the gushes. Yes,
probably.
But wait, a Facebook chat head has popped up.
‘Hey are you there?’ It’s Viddhi.
‘Yes, I am.’ I reply. Fortunately, all of my friends
know that I hate it when someone uses lingo language in
chatting or anywhere else. ‘Tell me.’
‘Umm…actually I am feeling low…’
‘What happened?’
‘One of my friends betrayed me…she told false
things about me to another best friend of mine…’ The
weather is turning grayish in her life too, it seems.
‘False things like?’ I ask.
‘Like I called her an attention seeker…badmouthed
her…etc.’
‘Didn’t you try to clear the mess?’
‘I tried…but she didn’t listen…and now I don’t
have courage to talk to her…’
‘Tell me what happened exactly. Let it all out.’
‘Kavita and I are…were I mean, best friends…’
She narrated to me the whole story.
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Aniruddha Pathak
10
Viddhi is a virtual friend of mine – a Facebook
friend – who studies in 10th Standard. Her mind is stuck
in turmoil right now, where she cannot understand what
and why she is frustrated so much. Friendship does
occupy an important part of our life. As they say – A
person without friend is a person without life.
If a friend betrays us, we break down to the core.
We feel bewildered, baffled, hopeless, useless, and many
more depressive adjectives.
Same is happening with Viddhi. Though she has
summarized and told me her story of broken friendship,
let me see if I can write it; as I was looking for an
inspiration to write something. Let me open a blank
document, and feed my mind with some thoughts.
Naming it ‘Distant Dreams’, I am writing a tale of
my friend: Viddhi.
Over and out.
X
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Canvas of a Storyteller
11
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