Patience Parasuram,its never too late..

Ever since he could remember,which was for ever;Parasuram wanted to be a writer. It did not matter to him that his stories,which he so diligently conjured and documented in neatly margined unruled sheets of paper pilfered from the State Government office where he worked as an accountant; came back mostly unopened or without even a letter of rejection. To him,one day would come when the likes of Anandha Vikatan and Kumudham would compete fiercly with each other to publish his next story. And so,he imagined and prayed before mailing off his stories each time.

His wife would constantly nag him about this - she hated being a Mrs.Nobody; she cursed the mediocore unsubstantial life that they led,she prodded him to work harder,take up exams and become an Officer,so that all the other Agrahaaram maamis could do what she hoped they would - anguish in envy over the Parasurams' good fortune. But Parasuram never was one to care for materialistic comforts. His ambition in life was to be recognized for his creative skills,for his imaginative prowess and above all,for being a persistent dream-chaser who does not succumb to meagre practicalities of life.
But luck was about to change for Parasuram. He had just mailed in what he perceived to be his master-piece so far. The story was more like his autobiography - a middle-class bespectacled thayir-saadham/aavaka oorgai consuming Agrahaaram Iyengar account who wins a lottery for ten thousand rupees ( a huge amount in those days ) and how his life changes over-nite. In a way,it was a literary orgasm for him - he had acheived in that short story what his immediate world wanted him to acheive and what he secretly coveted as well.
His spirits were high as he started walking back home,he knew that this was it, this story would surely get published and soon more would follow..he no longer would have to fear the loathing words of his upper-middle-class bespectacled thayir-saadham/aavaka oorgai consuming Agrahaaram Iyengar Manager,and he could resign his accountant job and take up writing full-time,he perceived himself as the new R.K.Narayanan..the awards would flow - Thamizh Naatu Thangamagan, Messiah of Mylap.........
HONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK.......
SCRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECHHHHHH......
THUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD........
The Mylapore junction in one instant turned into Meesarpet..Flies and crows swivelled the air like someone had wound them so tight like a spring and suddenly let them go loose..the Pallavan driver tried to flee the scene..only to be brutally beaten up by the normally passive Agraharam mob...babies started to cry and ladies either swooned or started to throw up...and somewhere in the not-so-near distance;the sounds of the Kabaleeshwarar temple bell signalling the evening abishegam were heard amidst the discordant cacophony of the approaching ambulance..
Ten days later,a letter arrived at the Parasurams - the house which was filled with Vaadhiyars,Homa-pogai,mamis and young kids - who not knowing where Parasuram mama had suddenly gone to;but were nonetheless happy to get a day off from school.
Mrs.Parsuram opened it and burst out crying. It took three more maamis and a small dose of a sedative injection to finally calm and numb her. One curious mama picked up the tear-splattered crumpled piece of paper which bore the official insignia of Anandha Vikatan and said....

Dear Mr.Parasuram,
We are very thankful to you for sending in your story for our consideration. Unfortunately, we are unable to publish it at the moment. But please do not take this as a complete rejection,keep sending in more stories that might be published at a later time. Please be patient,it is never too late.

Thanks,