SAARC SUFI
FEST
PART 1
PART 1
“Madam, may I
have your autograph?” I looked up to find a pleasant looking young man, holding
a notebook and pen, and looking expectantly at me.
It was 8th October, the third day of the SAARC SUFI FEST, organized by FOSWAL [Foundation of SAARC writers and literature] in collaboration with the SAARC Division of the external affairs ministry, [GOI] in the majestic Diggi Palace, Jaipur. After savoring a colossal fare of food for thought and food for the stomach, I was waiting for my cab, sitting on a chair, magnanimously offered by a security guard, who told me his name was Ashok and that he had been working at the Diggi palace for the past twenty years.
“My auto…gr…aph? .” I stuttered.
“Yes, madam. “
“But I am a nonentity ……”
“Are you not Tasleema Nasreen?”
“No, of course not.”
“Oh!” He turned red.
“Come on, don’t be embarrassed. This is not the first time I have been mistaken for Tasleema Nasreen.” I said, getting up, as I had sighted the cab heading towards the parking lot and wondering how a writer of Tasleema Nasreen's stature , who moves around under heavy security cover , could sit on a chair offered by a security guard !
It was 8th October, the third day of the SAARC SUFI FEST, organized by FOSWAL [Foundation of SAARC writers and literature] in collaboration with the SAARC Division of the external affairs ministry, [GOI] in the majestic Diggi Palace, Jaipur. After savoring a colossal fare of food for thought and food for the stomach, I was waiting for my cab, sitting on a chair, magnanimously offered by a security guard, who told me his name was Ashok and that he had been working at the Diggi palace for the past twenty years.
“My auto…gr…aph? .” I stuttered.
“Yes, madam. “
“But I am a nonentity ……”
“Are you not Tasleema Nasreen?”
“No, of course not.”
“Oh!” He turned red.
“Come on, don’t be embarrassed. This is not the first time I have been mistaken for Tasleema Nasreen.” I said, getting up, as I had sighted the cab heading towards the parking lot and wondering how a writer of Tasleema Nasreen's stature , who moves around under heavy security cover , could sit on a chair offered by a security guard !
Still red faced, he frantically started turning over the pages of the brochure he was holding, and stopped on the page where I figured.
“But, madam, I was wondering where I had seen you, now I know.”
He rummaged in his bag and pulled out a book.
“You are the writer of Ballad of Bapu. Hats off! I had bought it last year, and was waiting to get it autographed.” He said, beaming. While I gaped, he continued,
“I knew you were one of the delegates here. Will you give me your autograph now, and also your phone number?”
All I could manage was a gruff sound of acquiescence, and autographed the book, while the magnanimous security guard looked from behind his chair, which I had usurped, and the cab driver honked away.
“Madam, this is a stupendous work.” He said, thumping the air with the book. “You
I also waved out, looking at the birds which were having a great time in the fountain, and the reflection of the clouds in the water, trying to unravel some mystery.
To be continued
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