"I do so want to write",said the forty something looking like an early thirtyish socialite of the northern sectors in one of the thousands metro cities which have sprung up like last nights mushrooms after the much needed rain. She licked her lips , tainted with just the right brown lip color ( earthy and balanced out with the kohl rimmed eyes) and asked him again , in the perfect cultured public school voice. She had to climb this particular ladder as all others had been taken by the elite group. She knew being a politician's wife was passe' and starting an art gallery or dabbling in painting was just so 1980's. She didn't want to get her hands dirty with visiting hospitals, donating money to orphanages or hugging strangers , God knows what viral disease she may catch? Even coming close to the smell , oh that was enough to make her puke. This was one avenue which no one had thought of , the romance of writing ,the lure of the pen and she was pretty proficient.
She had the perfect excuse to go buy some clothes , get some ethnic duppattas , some silken scarves to wear with her black shirts and her straight Tom Ford's. She also needed the right kind of moleskin book let for her to jot down inspirational quotes, thoughts musings and some ramblings like the rabbit which went down the hole.
Looking at the author in front of her , at the pre-literary fest she posed her question knew she would get her answers. He, of the worldwide acclaim and fame and his novel which had been snapped for the next movie by Karan Johar..a romance unparalleled. The author in all his arrogance was standing nursing his drink , clutching on to it as if it was his link to living.She did wonder though looking at him, did all of them have to dress in an unkempt shabbily genteel way and what was with the hair? Looking around she counted at least four politicians , you could tell them by the coterie around them , one who must be the hapless PA holding onto two phones and talking on third eyes which constantly made the sweep so as not to miss any one important . The usual mix of socialites ( her friends ) who had walked in with their husbands and were now were with their "friends' were around . The publishing house heads who strutted around like Emperor Penguins in their circles were holding court with literary agents ,authors discussing the economy, the rise of the pound and yes, the latest 'Find" which was going to storm the world of books , lamenting e-books and the shrinking population who actually bought books v/s the e-book downloading variety.
Turning back to the "find ' she again asked. I have a burning desire to write to express my creativity to paint the canvas of the world with my words and to lay open the true meaning of a woman .. her anguish her pain ,what she feels and loves and what she sacrifies. He looked at her with an amused expression and thought about shocking her with the bizarrest line," Would you go for a book retreat with me?"
She had the perfect excuse to go buy some clothes , get some ethnic duppattas , some silken scarves to wear with her black shirts and her straight Tom Ford's. She also needed the right kind of moleskin book let for her to jot down inspirational quotes, thoughts musings and some ramblings like the rabbit which went down the hole.
Looking at the author in front of her , at the pre-literary fest she posed her question knew she would get her answers. He, of the worldwide acclaim and fame and his novel which had been snapped for the next movie by Karan Johar..a romance unparalleled. The author in all his arrogance was standing nursing his drink , clutching on to it as if it was his link to living.She did wonder though looking at him, did all of them have to dress in an unkempt shabbily genteel way and what was with the hair? Looking around she counted at least four politicians , you could tell them by the coterie around them , one who must be the hapless PA holding onto two phones and talking on third eyes which constantly made the sweep so as not to miss any one important . The usual mix of socialites ( her friends ) who had walked in with their husbands and were now were with their "friends' were around . The publishing house heads who strutted around like Emperor Penguins in their circles were holding court with literary agents ,authors discussing the economy, the rise of the pound and yes, the latest 'Find" which was going to storm the world of books , lamenting e-books and the shrinking population who actually bought books v/s the e-book downloading variety.
Turning back to the "find ' she again asked. I have a burning desire to write to express my creativity to paint the canvas of the world with my words and to lay open the true meaning of a woman .. her anguish her pain ,what she feels and loves and what she sacrifies. He looked at her with an amused expression and thought about shocking her with the bizarrest line," Would you go for a book retreat with me?"
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