I stared at the blank laptop screen in front of me. Nothing came to mind. I just knew that at this point, it was going to be another day with no progress whatsoever. My fingers started to feel the weight of hopelessness. The cursor blinked rhythmically, a silent challenge to break the silence of the empty page.
I glanced around my cramped and messy apartment, feeling even more sad and despairing.
Sudhan, my older brother, was the family's treasure—successful at anything he set his mind to. A very successful doctor with an income that seemed to multiply almost every month. And here I was, barely accepted for a job at a local bookstore. My dreams of becoming a writer felt more out of grasp than ever before; just sitting in front of the screen with an empty mind was taking a toll on me.
But tonight, I felt a surge of energy, full of confidence, when I finally got the ideas I had been looking for. A story no one had ever heard of, completely original and unique, one that would prove that I am better than my brother.
A story about a boy named Jayn Zanji, a medical student, who has a pretty normal life until weird things start to happen to him. After some time, he comes to realize that the world he's living in, and everything in it, is fictional and is being written by someone, so he tries to escape from it.
I never typed this fast in my life. This plot seemed so good to me that I thought about it all the time. I just knew this was the one that could get me started. For the next few days, all I could think about was how this story would progress and how I would make Zanji realize that his world was fake. Once, I got so deep in these thoughts that I forgot I had a customer in front of me. Snapping out of my daydream, I realized there were still many challenges ahead.
I woke up the next morning feeling completely fresh and somewhat changed. I wanted to give the day a perfect start, so I called in to tell my boss I was going to miss work. Let's just say he wasn't very happy about it.
I started with morning yoga, something my mom used to do before I became a disappointment to her and she left me on my own. The stretching felt good, loosening muscles I hadn't used in a while. This was followed by a cold shower that jolted my senses awake. I shaved my beard clean, watching the suds and whiskers swirl down the drain, a symbolic cleanse. I thought of exercising, but I wasn't really out of shape, so I dropped the idea of hitting the gym. Instead, I just cleaned my dirty little apartment, wiping away layers of dust and grime. The act of cleaning, of putting things in order, felt good.
It's an enjoyable experience to actually work at something you like. I always liked writing, and just thinking of making it a career felt good. I started my first real writing session. I was still pretty decent at writing, just not the best in the world, that's for sure. I started the story with Zanji seeing his reflection in mirror smiling while he, himself is not. Followed a dialogue with his parents and so on.
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That's when I heard the knock. It was strange to me; I didn't know many people, and there was really no one who would knock on my door. As far as I could remember. The sound echoed through the small apartment, breaking my concentration. When I opened the door, I saw a more-than-familiar face—my brother.
"Mind if I just...?" he said.
"Yeah, sure, come in." It had been ages since we talked to each other. He almost felt like a stranger.
"It's a, um, pretty small apartment you've got here. Must be hard for you," he said with no expression whatsoever. The last time I saw him show emotions was when we were twelve.
"Yeah, I just manage it," I said hesitantly, feeling a mix of embarrassment and resentment.
"You've changed. We were fifteen when I last saw you. Now you're a grown man of thirty-one," Sudhan said.
"Changed times, changed man, yeah," I said, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Let's cut to the chase," he said, looking more serious than usual. He always looked serious, just more so now. "Mom told me how miserable you are. All talk, no commitment. I felt pity for you."
He knew that I got angry whenever someone pitied me and was saying that intentionally. It didn't take him long to show his true colors, huh.
"I thought you said 'cut to the chase,'" I said with sarcasm, my anger simmering.
"I have an offer for you," he said.
"Go on." I said it calmly, but I was indeed surprised. My brother, who was like a god in human clothing, showing up all of a sudden to spare some pity for the weak.
"You become a maid in my house, and I pay you double or triple what any local bookstore would. How about that?"
"A mighty lord like you coming personally to show kindness for a servant like me? Sounds about right," I said with an angry tone, my hands clenching into fists.
"I didn't want to see your loser self ever again, only if Mom hadn't forced m—"
"Just tell me, who do you take me for?" I said, my voice getting louder and angrier. "JUST SOME GOOD-FOR-NOTHING NOBODY IN THE PRESENCE OF A BRILLIANT FUCKING GOD!! I COULDN'T CARE LESS ABOUT YOUR JOB OFFER; IT'S NOTHING TO ME. I'LL BURN YOUR ENTIRE FUCKING CAREER DOWN. YOU DON'T KNOW ME; YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I CAN ACCOMPLISH, YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST SHOW UP ALL OF A SUDDEN AND TELL ME WHAT TO DO?"
The worst part was that he looked at me with pity the entire time, as if I were just some mental patient and he was the one responsible for making me that way. The pity in his eyes burned more than his words. He turned around and started walking away without saying anything.
"AND NEXT TIME YOU KNOCK ON THAT DOOR TO BRING SOME OTHER SHITTY OFFER, YOU'RE WELCOME TO GO FUCK YOURSELF." He didn't look back.
Later, I finished my first chapter and lay down on my bed, and started crying. Even I didn't know why, but I just did. The tears flowed uncontrollably, releasing the pent-up frustration and sorrow. I cried myself to sleep in the mid-afternoon, the emotional exhaustion finally catching up with me.