A Blank Notebook

Amidst eerie calm of the midnight, she was tossing and turning on the bed. All that was audible was the clock ticking near the door. On that full moon night, a glint of moonlight was peeping past the curtains, adding dim light to her room. The king size bed was too wide for her to lie there alone. Like every year, December weather in Bengaluru was not that cool. Anamika was all alone at home, her husband had been out for three days to attend an official meeting at Chennai.

Lying back in her cozy pajamas and loose tees, thoughts came in and passed as she was having a sleepless night. She had been missing her husband, who was a source of inspiration for her every time she was low. While Anamika was looking towards the window, from the little space left uncovered by the curtains, a thick lock of hair falling on her forehead was bothering her. She moved it slowly behind her ear. Her eyes fell upon the clock, the time was 1:10 AM. Nevertheless, she ain’t going to sleep tonight.

Something was keeping her awake. Anamika’s husband, Rishi had his client presentation the next morning. So she did not want to call and disturb his slumber sleep. If she called him at this time in the night, he would get worried for no reason.

Thoughts climbed up her mind as and as the night passed.

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It all started a year and half ago. She got married and moved to Bengaluru. Life was a joyful ride since then. Having someone to share your joys and sorrows with, to be cuddled and cared for, to be accompanied in all endeavors and choices, is one of the best feelings. It was then Anamika had started penning down her book, her OWN book. It’s been a dream since years. Her husband kept her encouraging to give it a start. Rishi often said, “If you think you can, you can. If you think you can’t, you are right.”

“Eureka! I did it. I wrote my first book.” After multiple drafts, series of writing, re-writing, feedback, editing and burning the midnight oil, Anamika had completed her book. Now the time had come to share the script with the publisher. He was already impressed by her manuscript. Anamika had been on cloud nine since then, her husband equally happy. They had submitted the script to the publisher. For a week, Anamika and Rishi had waited for the publisher’s phone call. Every morning they woke up with vigor, anticipating his call. But success was not supposed to knock so soon on Anamika’s door. The script was rejected. She was shattered. The book was her baby. Thereafter, she spent days and nights in despair. Rishi tried his best to condole her, to convince her that it was the first but not the last time. He insisted her to try writing again. Anamika was too discouraged to write again. She said, “It is not my cup of tea. How could I even dream to see my book in people’s bookshelves? I was much better writing poems and short stories.” She engrossed herself in everything else and stopped writing.

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This time, in Rishi’s absence, Anamika was revisiting the past events for the umpteenth time. She recalled that while leaving for the airport, Rishi had asked her to open the first drawer of her “writing desk” for once. In excitement, she jumped out of the bed and moved towards her “writing desk” in the other room. The door knob was closed, which she opened quickly. The desk was marvelously decorated and on the walls behind were pasted various posters, print outs of her poems, articles and stories, inspirational quotes- all very lucrative for a writer. In the drawer was a folded paper which was hand-written by Rishi for her. The letter just mentioned-

“Sometimes our power resides not in what we do, but in what we don’t do. There is only one difference between dream and aim. Dream requires effortless sleep and aim requires sleepless efforts. Sleep for dream and wake up for aim. Get up and write :)”

Beneath the letter was lying a notebook, a blank notebook. The scent of fresh pages and the sight of an un-scribbled notebook was so soothing. Anamika pulled out a pen from the holder. She opened the blank notebook. And in no time, started writing her destiny - her book, once again!

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.