The fault is not in our stars

April, the month of colors, fertility, and joy, was celebrated by all creatures. Birds were singing the songs of love and beauty... Moon was startling everyone with its brightness. Life was pouring itself into every soul.

But there was a fault in Abraham's stars. His life's tree was shading its leaves of hope, confidence, and the worst, talent. 

It had been a year that he lost his wife Hazel. She was his only inspiration to write scripts, fiction, prose, poems, and whatnot. They both witnessed the apex of their career once, together. But after her death, Abraham left writing. He was so much busy celebrating his grief that he gave up on his talent and creativity without realizing that he is losing his identity. He was losing the precious pearls he had.

Moon, stars, he and his grief were now best friends in all sleepless nights. 

"The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars...". He closed his book with pouring eyes. He got throwback flashes of all the memories he had with Hazel. The days when they both used to exchange the books of Shakespeare, highlighting their favorite lines of the book, during their college time. The book he was reading was the last gift from Hazel to him. And those lines were highlighted...

"It's been a year, Abraham. For God's sake! Come back to like." Minhaaj cried. 

(Minhaaj was his and Hazel's only best friend and the owner of an acknowledged production house in Hollywood).

"Try to galvanize yourself. Try to come back to your life and work. Everyone is waiting for your masterpieces." Minhaaj continued.

"Can a bee make honey without the essence of a flower? Tell me, can a daffodil bloom in autumn? No! Then how could you expect me to live when my soul has been abducted? No! Minhaaj, I will never hold the pen again." Abraham said in a serious tone.

"But..." Minhaaj tried to say something. 

"Oh please, Minhaaj! I m not here to discuss these things. Just drop it off or I shall leave." Abraham interrupted.

Two days later, when he took the newspaper to read, he got appalled by the news... The position he held, the status quo he enjoyed for years was given to another writer by his best friend Minhaaj, for whom he worked all those years. It was his writings that made him a big cheese in the industry. His stories and his characters earned a special space among the hearts of the audience, and now, Minhaaj Production house was launching another scriptwriter for their films! 

He could not understand his feelings. He felt jealous but it was unreasonable as he, himself, denied writing ever again in his life. He found himself in a void. He was surprised by the way he reacted. He felt anger for Minhaaj as well. 

The days passed, his frustration escalated with the coming days, with each spreading news about the project... He abhorred this new writer Elif. He saw her amateur. The negative image of Elif made home in Abraham's mind. For sure, he was unable to shake her off from his mind. 

" what would you say about the renowned and acknowledged film and novel writer Abraham who formerly held this position?" a journalist asked from Elif.

Abraham was surprised to hear this question on his TV screen. His anger, as well as curiosity, emerged high.

"How the hell this filthy creature could ask the question regarding me from this naive girl" he cried. 

But deep down Abraham was curious to know her views about him.

The question was equally intrusive to Elif as well. 

"Don't mistake to compare me with Abraham just because of the job I m given." The respect for Abraham was lucid in her words...

"He is the person I got my inspiration from... His novels! His film! Those just compelled me to write. His words mesmerize you. Like an incantation, which besieges you in its spell. You can't even differentiate between fiction and reality! You get involved in the stories. It takes you to some other world..."She took a thoughtful pause. And then said, "I don't know why he is not writing. His fans crave to read his words."

Abraham was stunned by her words. He was now taking interest in her interview.

"What are your thoughts regarding your profession?" Another question was raised.

"I think, a writer is a person who never dies. He leaves his essence in every word and every soul that reads those words. A writer has the power to move your soul. He can bestow eternity to any person. That's why it is said that if a writer falls in love with you, you can never die". Her words fascinated everyone. 

Abraham couldn't put his eyes off from television. Her words were resonating in his ears "if a writer falls in love with you, you can never die..." The same words Hazel used to say to him. He could not sleep the whole night. 

"But I could not save Hazel. I could not bestow her eternity. I never wrote a word for her since she died" he despised himself. 

After one and a half years he was holding the pen. Looking at the crescent moon from his window. He felt motivated to write about Hazel. But to his surprise, he could not write even a sentence despite trying for hours. His was anxious now.

"What the hell is with me!" He outcried.

"Maybe, I am sleepy" he tried to console himself.

Another day, another interview of Elif. Her words and work were breaking the grounds. Her first novel was now a bestseller. Her film was awarded twice that year. She reaped fame in a very short period.

Looking at her popularity, Abraham's jealousy and his concerns regarding his own writings grew stronger. The next day a sentence in the newspaper caught his attention.

"Never let the fault in your stars drive you away from your passion, rather, take the reign of your fate in your hands and dodge those damn stars." ELIF.

That night he read the lines from Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, several times: 

"The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars but ourselves..." The tears spilled from his eyes. It always reminds him of Hazel. He gazed at stars for hours... He wrote the prose but could not feel that fervor and spark.

He managed to write for the next few months and finally the script was done. He contacted many channels and Production houses but got rejected. 

His anxiety grew into depression...

Some other scripts after diligent work... but earned only rejections.

He stopped writing. "I can not bear this insult." he thought. 

On the other hand, Elif was climbing over the moon.

The next morning sun was at its tilt. He woke frustrated. 

His subconscious was full of disappointments, yet his ego was strong.

 Lowkey, he knew that he could not write but he was trying hard to trick his insecurities by thinking about his majestic and hit projects.

His phone rang when he was trying to work on a script. He realized that a producer of a small Production house had approached him a time ago to get his services for a short film. 

He received the call. 

"Sir kindly, sign this project... We really want this project done by you." The producer, John, urged.

Abraham agreed. 

He started writing for them only when he was idle. He did not find himself much serious about this project but his whole concentration was fixed to grab the big opportunities to compete with Elif. 

Finally, the script was ready, which he handed it over to John. But his other scripts, on which he worked day and night, were rejected by many well-known producers.

He realized that he needs a break. The pressure and anxiety were weakening his creativity.

"I need to go far away from this here, where nobody can approach me - not even my insecurities," Abraham said to Minhaaj when he was sharing his success stories with Elif.

Minhaaj arranged a long vacation trip for him. 

He was in peace at that place. Many times people tried to approach him via phone calls but he didn't answer any.

 But as soon he came back home, the same anxiety grabbed him when he saw many letters awaiting him on his door. 

 He left all those letters unopened and went to sleep. 

The next morning, while grabbing the cup of tea in his hand he switched on his television. He got flabbergasted. "The fault is not in our stars." a short film was nominated for Oscar. This was his first project that was committed for Oscar. 

He suddenly thought about those letters and read them in haste. 

Hollywood's top Production houses were waiting to sign him.

Life suddenly took a 360-degree turn. His inconsequential decision made him more successful than before. 

It was autumn but he felt the joy he lost in spring.

Three years have gone by and success is following him the way death follows life.