On the horns of a dilemma
Four months have passed by since the book launch. So the author
thought of having a small gathering; his invitees were his close
companions: a critic, a novelist, a professor and an administrator. All
these folks are commonly referred to as 'renowned' and they are
'retired' too. 'Renowned' is an apt word for them, whose names are often
seen and heard over media. These retired scholars seemed fully occupied,
all the time.
The renowned critic tries his pen on every subject under the sun. And
presently his hands are full republishing a collection of interviews he
had given to several newspapers. He did not list the names of the
interviewers at least in the acknowledgement; 'they are not important,
because ideas are mine', he thought.
The renowned novelist is working on a second edition. First print of
that novel occurred at least two decades ago, and it really stirred a
hornet's nest. That was quite laurels for the novelist to rest on for
the next two decades!
The silly brats of the younger generation are not familiar with his
novel, though they see and hear his name over and over and over again
over media. He is going to publish the novel for a second time, without
any revision of course - creative works do not need to be revised, after
all!
The renowned professor retired a few years ago. And now he is trying
to print a collection of lectures he had given at the university. It
will be very much beneficial to the younger generation, well including
those who slept over his lectures.
The renowned administrator is the man. He looks triumphant - of
course he is - because he could get the same short story published a
dozen times! That short story he wrote 30 years back was translated into
English, Sinhala and Tamil by turns. It was not the same story, because
every time he wanted it republished, he made a few amendments - oh and
that's what he claims so.
The poor poet is the odd one to join the circle. He hails from a
remote village. There are differences between this poet and the above
foursome. But the major one is that the author gave each of the foursome
a free copy of his latest novel, while the poet purchased a copy out of
respect to the author. They all - five of them now - sat down to enjoy
themselves. The author opened up the conversation following the jingle
of glasses with 'cheers'.
"So how is my novel, critic?"
"Oh author, I am really sorry. I couldn't flip a single page. I have
been busy like hell with my latest book. You know these newspaper
fellows are trying out every damn thing to get me in hot waters. They
want their names at least in the acknowledgement. I don't care a heck.
Who cares for that pack of idiots? And by the way, author, I hope you
could do a good review for my book, right? You know author, If not for
you guys, there wouldn't be a thing called good literature."
Author felt as if he was disappointed for the first time in his life.
But he did not want to give away his feelings. He just nodded to the
critic and turned to the novelist.
"You mean your latest one, right? Ah, I think it's still on my table.
You know my agent is giving me such a hard time on that reprint. These
young publishers don't take us serious enough, no!"
"When did you give it to me author?"
"Why, you chaired the launching function, and I gave you a free copy
officially."
"Oh... ho... now I remember. I have to locate it my friend."
Author turned to the administrator as the last resort.
"Yes... Yes... I fairly remember you gave me a copy. Yes I am going
to read it soon. Hey, Daily News has given my story a good display. Good
illustration too, I must say."
The author stood up.
"Where are you going mate?" That was the poet.
"Sorry I couldn't give you a copy. I am going to give you one."
"Don't worry. I bought one on the launching day. I have got one thing
to tell you friend."
"Yes. Go ahead."
"It's the finest piece you have written to this day. Actually I
wanted to ask you for a copy. But I read the back cover introduction,
and I couldn't help myself end up buying the book that very moment.
There won't be a better masterpiece than this my friend, take it from
me."
"At least you have read my book." Author remarked in an even tone.
"Yes... Yes... Not only once. I read it at least thrice. And I read
it even now here and there in chunks. How could you write that
beautiful, author? That classical language! But let me give you a
warning."
Author didn't want to care about any warning. He was already roaming
in the ninth cloud. Poet continued still and all.
"Don't expect an award for this. They won't give you one, and yours
is too much for one."
Author's renowned friends continued listening to the poor poet
silently.
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