Nitin Mishra
Pradeep, after struggling for eighteen months, finally received his MFA degree in creative writing. He was already known as a short story writer among his friends. Indeed, his writing carried remarkable substance. It conveyed a deep and classical message to its readers. Many of his friends thought his stories were unique of their kind. They always encouraged Pradeep to take his writing to the next level by advancing his writing skills or pursuing an advanced degree in creative arts and writing.
For he has received the prestigious MFA degree, he is proud of it. Every time he composes a new piece of writing, be it an essay, poem, fiction, or non-fiction, his friends circle to admire it except a few. But a very peculiar thing that happens is every time his own wife always grumbles and attempts to point out his mistakes, either in his article’s plot or some minor grammatical mistakes or a trivial typo. His wife is also quite educated, and Pradeep considers her quite intellectual. She loves philosophical books and has read a vast majority of classics from different cultures and traditions. Her comments on his work are very valuable to him. So, she is always the one to read his articles as soon as he drops his pen.
Pradeep spends hours and hours improving the natural quality of his stories so that one day his wife will like it, love it, embrace it, and finally kiss it, but that has never happened so far. Every time he produces a new story, she cleverly produces another set of flaws, swiftly and quite intelligently.
He wonders- But what is she like? What kind does she like? I have written stories of every kind, but she never even likes or even admires it.
He worked very hard and diligently to gain her appreciation. But no luck so far. Sometimes he felt depressed and considered himself the most unfortunate husband for possessing a wife who never understood his soul. In the outside world, he received kudos for his writings, but at home he felt depressed and hopeless. It was rather a bleak situation for him indoors.
Pradeep remembers one of his conversations with his wife.
“Someday I wish to get my book published by some reputed publisher, you know.”
His wife maintained her perfect silence and finally dropped a pinching brief speech.
“Sure, for that you need to raise your bar, my dear writer husband…. .”
Pradeep felt troubled and wished he had a supportive wife. Pradeep was not able to cope with her inwardly and, feeling hapless, even devised plans for divorce. He kept pondering over it again and again and finally reached a solid conclusion,
“Yes, I have to get out of this institution called marriage. I have to divorce her.”
Every year on his birthday, his wife presented some surprises.
“This year’s birthday surprise for you will be a very special one, my dear,” she announced gaily once during the morning breakfast.
“I am also prepared to give something which will make you happy for the rest of your life…. ,” Pradeep affirmed in a very assertive tone.
“Really…,”she gasped.
“Regard that as your next coming birthday’s gift in advance,”
He added with a gleam in his eyes, “I know this is the perfect time to hand you over the gift,” “But I have a plan for this year… let’s do something different this time,”
“Like what…,” she exclaimed, full of innocence in her voice.
“Let’s not open the gift in each other’s presence…,” Pradeep chuckled.
After a couple of months of waiting, the birthday arrived. After the party was over and after all the invitees had returned, Pradeep approached his wife and inquired about his present.
Pradeep’s wife, getting more and more excited, uttered, “Go to our bedroom and open your closet and pull the biggest drawer, you will find your big box there.”
Getting equally enthusiastic, she requested, “And mine?”
“Get in your car. You will find your surprise in the driver’s seat,” Pradeep said with an unripe smile.
She rushed towards the garage while Pradeep strutted past the room and reached their bedroom, opened his closet, and pulled out the biggest drawer. There, he found a box with a sealed envelope on top.
Curiously, he tore open the envelope and found a handwritten letter that read.
My dear beloved husband!
Many happy returns of the day and let me wish you ‘Happy happy birthday’ once more.
It has always been my privilege to be the first reader of your stories. Let me be honest and announce loudly on top of my lungs that your stories are damn good and ‘I love them absolutely.’ It may have seemed that I never appreciated your stories, but my intention had never been to demoralize you or discourage you from writing more. In fact, it is quite the opposite. Others can flatter you, but not me.
I just want you to invent more and more, even more fascinating stories that will be read forever and will be talked about in the coming generations, too. I want our children to be proud of your stories.
I just wanted my unwelcoming comments to be a source of encouragement to prove you better. And I can rightfully say that every time you wrote a new story, it was better than the previous one. Over time it became and has become so good that I without your permission contacted the esteemed publisher, and they accepted your stories and published them. Next week, the books will be available for the public and even on Amazon’s website.
Now time for an actual surprise!! Open the box.
Your very very truly
Rani
Just your wife….
Pradeep opened the box and found his book published. He kept staring at the book, shaking all the time. Soon his face was filled with perspiration and turned crimson.
Back in the garage, Rani found an envelope.
She unfolded the paper carefully and read the divorce notice in the perfect silence ever.
