on 26th December 2014, to be precise. I normally don’t write about personal
tragedies here. It doesn’t help anyone to read somebody’s sob story especially
a bloke you’ve hardly met or are ever likely to meet. But I’ll make an
exception just once because this incident just devastated me physically, mentally
and spiritually. I’m a nervous wreck now popping sleeping tablets to get over
the insomnia brought on by this horrible incident.
Actually it’s all my fault. First I build up huge
expectations for myself. When I wrote The Vagabond situation that was just to
kill time and space and provide a platform for the next blog post, which was the 'real' launch. But what the hell!
‘TVS’ picked up 17 comments and was a runway success. So I was positive that my
follow up number would take the blogging world by storm.
But the Passer a la casserole, a culinary delight ,my masterpeice which premiered on 26th December failed to register even a single comment. Not one
comment. I knew something was very wrong soon after my conversation with M just after the post hit the web. M is the only reader of this blog who is brave enough to call me once in
a while...
“Hey how’s it ? Absolutely mind blowing right? Do you think I’ll
get a book contract? I reckon its right up there with Marco Vassi’s best”, I was getting more and more excited with every word...
Silence at the other end.
I thought that there might be a bad connection.
“Hullooo… did you hear…”
“I heard you all right”, the clear calm voice that doctors use
when they are about to tell you that you have less than 24 hrs to live.
“Are you out of your f***ing mind? Releasing a so called
erotica at Christmas time? Have you forgotten that 99 % of your readers are
women? And 90% of them are Indian? Besides I think the story was disrespectful towards us and the plot was terrible"
I feel my hands start to sweat…
“What’s that got to do with anything? You want me to consult
an astrologer before I publish a post? But hold on, do you really think that no one’s going to comment, that no one’s gonna
like it?”
“Well I will comment just to save your blushing ass but this
is not your forte , Mr. You should just stick to dark humor. And next time try
writing this kind of stuff nearer to Feb 14th or thereabouts”
I hated how M made more
sense than me every time we had an argument.
“But M, this is just a teaser. In all these vagabonding years,
I have put my filthy imagination to use writing over 100 such short slam bang
stories. Has it all been in vain?”
All I heard was sarcastic laughter at the other end.
“Maybe I should have just written a Mills and Boons
misadventure…”
“I doubt if you can pull off even that one… just stick to the
funny bones dude”
M, a lady I’ve known for close to a decade and half doesn't mince
words. What the hell was I going to do with the 100 odd idiotic erotic stories
in my ‘hard’ drive?
The worst part was that even M wouldn’t believe that the
story was 100 % fiction!
“Listen do you really think that I can bed a French chick? And
I’m not a good cook by any stretch of the imagination”
“Listen Mr Playboy! I know what sort of 'adventures' you get up to. I’m sure all your readers think likewise
at least regarding the bedding part of the story. You would have lost at least
99.9 % of your female admirers after this fiasco. You’ve come across as a
hormone imbalanced humper who likes his paneer butter masala on the side. Bleeahh! Disgusting !!!!”
I was gently weeping now seeing that I was in throat deep
shit. I disconnect and decide to call my agent who also happens to be M.
“Is there no way out of this?”
“What?!! Is it you again? Well, you can delete the post and just
pretend the whole thing never happened. Maybe you’ll be forgiven one day”
“But wait I know that people are reading it, it’s just that nobody’s
commented on it. Now come to think of it what will people comment anyway eh? “Oh
that was a F***ing good read Vagabond, thank you!” Or “Oh that was really a ‘very hard’
story to read” or even “That’s difficult to swallow"
“Well I’ve decided to stick by it, no matter what! I put a
lot of effort into it you know, at least a month of writing and editing. Even
the title is a French expression which is a pun on”
“Is that so? It sure shows!” sniggered M cutting me off
again.
So here I am dear women readers, one heartbroken writer, as
Russell Peters would say in his Fake Indian accent “one hundred percent heartbroken”. So I implore you to comment on the erotica(attempted). This would be a more radical step you can take than the silly kiss of love
campaign. Commenting here is what takes real guts, not cheek pecking in Marine Drive!
So go for it gals, fire away. If
sufficient numbers of you give a good thrashing I promise not to publish any more
attempted erotica. Any comment is ok as long as it is provocative. I believe M
has just set the golden standard with the first comment!
