Fifteen years back I tried to publish a short story. We didn’t have computers that time. Neither had I had the money to type it. So writing it by hand was the only option. Once it was written, I copied the story in good quality paper and devoted the best possible handwriting. I made sure there was no spelling mistake and it took me hours to copy it. I copied letter by letter. The paper was my altar. My devotion was unquestionable. Once it was over, I put my story in an envelope. I also included a return envelope. With the envelope in hand, I proceeded to the post office. I was a boy possessed by my dream: a dream to see my story published in ‘The Statesman’. I reached the post office and got the required stamps. My dad was kind enough to give me Rs 10. Having stamped the envelopes I dropped it in the letter box. I felt like a father bidding farewell to his son, who was going to a faraway place for a job.
A week passed. Sunday Literary supplement had no story of mine. Then one more week passed and the weekly supplement had nothing. A month passed. Was it some kind of a conspiracy going on? I was too young to understand the pains a budding writer experience to get them published. One fine day an envelope arrived. I instantly recognized my handwriting. They have rejected my story and sent it back. At the age of 11 I experienced my first rejection. “Gazing up into the darkness I saw myself as a creature driven and derided by vanity; and my eyes burned with anguish and anger” (Joyce), I experienced the same feeling as the boy in “The Araby”. I stopped writing after that. But I never gave up reading. And the dream of getting published remained. Someday, sometime, my time will come.
Today one of my writing has got published in a website. Although this website is very new and don’t have many visitors, still sending the work to its Editor and thereby getting published is a cute little success for me. Baby steps. But a step is a step, however small. Someday I will publish my writing in ‘The Statesman’. Till that time comes, I have to keep taking these baby steps. Every step matters. There is no more time left to procrastinate. The shot has been fired.
