Heartbroken. Fuming in Anger. Hopeless. Sitting by the window pane I stared at the book kept on the table placed next to the dressing table that houses a wide variety of cosmetics. The most colourful cheerful room appeared dull, the pleasant smelling air freshener smelled smelly, the beautiful smiling rose petals fell along with my smile.
Maybe, just maybe, my name is not lucky enough to be printed there, I thought. I stared out the window; even the clouds started to shed tears along with me.
O God please let me rest in peace, I said to myself. I couldn’t control my anger. I logged into Facebook again to check the Likes and Comments that poured in for the status.
Close to 3000 Likes and 120 Comments in 5 Minutes, I shouted loudly, as if the God is going to hear me. It failed to reduce my anger. I read a couple of comments which was posted by my besties, just like the pouring rain tears flooded my eyes. I threw the phone crying like an eight-year-old for an opportunity to ride the bicycle for the first time. I might fall; I knew that but not even in my wildest of dreams I wished to be robbed by an experienced celebrated person. All the lights went off. Shit! Power cut again, I screamed like a banshee.
I stared at the book again; the title was trimmed down by two words, the name printed under the title is a famous name but that cannot allow The Author to own my book and The Author don’t deserve any accolades. I fumed in anger. My friend brought a candle inside the room. I wiped off my tears and thanked my friend.
“Page by page, paragraph by paragraph, line by line, word by word, is copied from your manuscript. I think you should write to the publisher.”
I lifted my head and looked into my friend eyes. “I did send an email after reading the sample chapter.”
“Did you get a response?”
“No response so far. I feel dejected cheated thrashed and thrown away on the road.”
“Why don’t you write about this on Facebook?”
“Nobody will believe my words. Nobody will support me. Moreover The Author is a famous writer and most importantly a good looking writer too!”
“You should appeal to your friends in Blogosphere. I am sure they will come to help!”
“I know that…but do you think writing in couple of blogs would help us? Don’t forget that we live in India. Here news is a sensation for a day or two, after which they are either forgotten or ignored.”
“I do not understand your point. I want you to raise your voice against this.”
“And then you can get that book published under your name.”
“Do you think that will happen? The Author has a huge support and can block me from entering into this world or The Author can also ask to? ” I thought before saying that uncultured word.
“Will you allow that to happen?”
“I won’t. I will not raise my voice either. I am a creator. I can create magic with my pen no matter how many times I lose. But that doesn’t mean I will allow people to take advantage of me.” I paused for a minute, looked into my friend’s eyes, “I will self-publish my books.”
My friend smiled and it boosted my confidence. I know crying will not help and I am not going to cry anymore. I will surely grow in this field and when it happens, I will not let this crime happen to any debutant. I will make them aware of content patent rights and will make them to copyright the content before submitting the manuscript. I will change the way publishing industry works. I will because…no one should undergo the pain I had to. And no one should ask why every debutant has to undergo such sinful things in this literature world. Every day one or the other finds their book being printed under someone else name. Why? Why me?
“Do you think it will happen?”
The Page Will Turn. And that’s my way of tasting revenge. My lips curved after almost three hours.
*Dedicated to one of my blogger friends who is facing the same situation as written in the post.