Tuesday, January 04, 2005
I must wish myself a happy new year, and the best way to do that is to carry out the resolutions I have made myself mutter in the dark.
Number one on the list is to learn driving. Yes, I do not know, despite having walked the earth for 23-plus years. I guess, a sixth sense or something told me that since I had managed the walking bit and the whining bit, so well that someone else had to drive me around all the time, so well over the last 23 years, I could manage very well without knowing for some more time. Well, no. NOOOOooooooo. The buck stops here. I want a set of wheels. I will learn how to drive.
And I will improve my oratory skills so that I can coax, cajole, wheedle, whine, persuade, blackmail etc (etc etc) my brother to let me drive his car.
Number two is concentrating on the body beautiful. This one was bound to receive titters and giggles. But they still won't deter me. I was the one they called FatboySlim in Chennai, the one who lost 15 kg in his 10 month's stay down there, and now that I'm more or less the size my height dictates, I need to stop looking like a scrawny sapling and put on some of the right kind of weight. The hunt begins, for a reasonably priced gym in Parel or Worli or Lower Parel. On the flipside, the only gym I have located so far in this area that fits my requirements is the posh Crunch! in Kamala Mills, which charges an outrageous Rs 1500 per month (which happens to be dollops more than what my friend pays in Colaba).
And I thought resolutions were supposed to be easy - damn!
But apart from resolutions and all that jazz, today has been special. I got my first reject letter from a publisher, for an idea on a short story collection I had submitted a month or two back. My first rejection - somehow, it feels like I've joined an elitist club or something, Crunch! be damned!
Dear Mr Mitra,
Thank you for offering us the above book. We regret to inform you that we will not be able to publish it as it does not fit our publishing profile but wish you success with another publisher.
With best wishes, the Editorial Department.
Note: If you would like to have the manuscript back, please mail us a self-addressed stamped envelope.
Of course, I'm much too much an egoist to be severely crushed (or even crushed, for that matter), so this changes nothing at all. To tell the truth, as I looked at some of the pieces I'd sent in, I wondered why on earth I'd sent them in the first place. So, the hunt is very much on for rejection letters 2, 3, 4, 5.... till I get an acceptance. The novel is still brewing in my head, you see.
Now, dare I make that Resolution Number Three?
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