Writer of the One-Liner

Mr. Alice,Please open your eyes. Let there be light. An Indian evening at your attic window.The city of kalkata has turned red with the setting sun.An elongated room – mouldy and lonely,thousands of miles away from your motherland – France.Sitting in a wooden chair with long handles,you are trying to do something on your writing table.A white notebook under your right hand – blank and unwritten.You're leaving no stone unturned.But,nothing is happening.Actually,nothing is reigning over something.As you've been in the so called “ Writers' Block” for the last fifteen days.And,your outer world has been locked down for the last month and a half.An epidemic has spread all over the world from mid-January.At the end of December,you've come to visit your father's motherland – India.To tell the truth,you've come here to find out your “Subcontinental God”.The God you first heard about in your father's biography, about 25 years ago. You've come here in India and finally got stuck in a sharp lockdown. But,you still don't know – at the time of this epidemic,where your God is or how he is. There's a red-cover book in the one corner of your writing table. Collection of essays by Mr. Kushari. Mr. Kushari is your closest neighbor.One hundred and sixty nine years old man.But,his name is missing in the Guinness Book of World Records.His experience is older than his eyes.Mr. Kushari has experienced countless lives and deaths in his lifetime.He has received countless rewards and rebukes from God.This man has witnessed innumerable elations and epidemics. Open up the page number 32 of his red book.There is an essay about the crisis of civilization. Go to the page number 57.Where you will find the aesthetics of death.Try to enjoy the beauty of death through the old experienced Indian eyes. If you reach to the page number 108, Kushari’s God lives there.One and only god – very clear,simple and down to the earth. You finished the first reading of this book of Kushari in a single sitting.The book reminds you of your childhood.In your childhood,when anyone ever asked you – “What do you want to be in your life?”- everytime you reacted with the same answer – “ A Book” Yes,you wanted to be a book.Red-cover book.Of any language.Of any genre.Of any class. You wanted if children would read you- under the candid candle-light. You wanted if people would love your smell and remember your characters. And,like the first chapter of this red book,you wanted to lead an easy life.Where the semantics are all clear.There is no redundancy.There is no duplicity. You wanted if people would read you with the joy of finishing. You wanted if people would read you with the joy of success. You wanted if they would read you before the start of the holidays. You wanted if they would read you after the ending of the games. No one knows – you wanted to be a book. But,God made you as a human being.Now,no one can read you anymore. The context of God raises some questions in your mind,again - An epidemic is raging the entire world. People are dying of dyspnea. Newyork is running out of money! Paris is going to sell the “Mona Lisa”! In India,police are singing in the streets – “We shall overcome someday.” You never know,actually what is going on in China and Russia. Where is your God now? How is your God now? And, you are not being able to write anything about your God until you know the answers of these questions. Not a story,not an essay,not a poem,not a travelogue or not a letter to your God. But,see – this exceptionally eastern evening of kalkata is poking you.May be something will come in no time.Finally,the something will start the reign over the nothing!Finally,you will be able to tell something to your beloved God! But,what it will be? Any appeal? Any desire? Any solicitation? Or any question? That old classical question? Why God made you as a human being,but not a book? You’re not being able to settle down.

You’re not being able to get started. You have a full pack of cigarettes in the left pocket of your shirt.But,you're not willing to smoke right now. Mr,Alice,think for a while – How long does it take for you to smoke a cigarette completely? You should not take more than ten minutes,my friend. Now,think again – How many things hapoen in our world in these ten minutes? You have the answer,Mr.Alice. In these ten minutes, On an average, Two and a half hundred people are tagged with the title “Homeless” in this world. Five women become the victims of sexual harassment. 50 tons of waste is thrown out to the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. Two human beings choose the path of suicide and say goodbye to this strange world. The moon slowly moves further away from our earth. In these ten minutes, Novels find their plots and characters. Poems find their best orders and words. Cinemas find their climax scenes. Mr. Alice, many such ten minutes have passed.But,nothing is happening to you. You're missing your Paris,your family badly.That minikin apartment in Paris.Your Wife- Rosa and your two sons- Jeff and Jhon.After the birth of the second son,your wife has started to experience some mental problems.Rosa often thinks that she is totally failed to be a good mother.You have learned from the google that,in the language of psychology,it is called Mompostor Syndrome.There are so many problems in the world,but you're not with your family.You meet and talk to them everynight on video calls.Yet,you're not with them. After a long time,you're searching to hear the invincible stories of Marquez,again.The great Marquez.Gabriel Garcia Marquez.He is the god of your literature.You have read him a lot.You have experienced him a lot.Now,you believe that,you know all the stories of his life – written or unwritten.It's also known to you that,once Marquez had paid a visit in India and got lost.Will you too be got lost like your God,Mr.Alice? Right now,there is load-shedding in your attic room,which will last for next four to five hours.But,you'll feel like a hundred years of darkness! Better than that,open the drawer of your writing table.There's a half-burnt white candle in this drawer.Very next to it,you will find a green matchbox. Fire the matchbox. Light the candle. It's your world,man.Take the control.Get in the game,player.Don't stop believing.Hold on to the feeling of an eternal breakthrough,Mr Alice.Then,with the black pen in your easy right hand,write not a story,not an essay,not a poem,not a letter or not a travelogue,but just a one-liner without any question mark. Which one-liner will shake the whole world! At the end of this epidemic,which one-liner will change the attitude of human's prayer to their gods - " God,take care of thyself,please."