The character

"Who said oil and ink don't mix? " she asked 

"Well, I didn't know she would change my life, at least not forever;

She laughed. All the time!Sickening!  Her presence was playful , yet,  mystic.

She says, in my arms she feels my strength when she is weak. 

Ironically, often there are moments I cry in pain or frustration and she holds me and I am replenished by her joy. There are days I laugh and I am like me again.. that's when I see that far away look in her eyes.

That's when I write." replied, the greatest prolific writer of the decade, Jai Bhardwaj with an heir of supremacy.

"And what do you do the rest of the year?" Maya asked with an eyebrow raised.

"What is that supposed to mean?, I don't need to answer you! You have the audacity to question my ways?!" ; he asked or said rather- bringing his nose down from the clouds. 

"You suffer from bipolar -can't even hold it together during an interview! Your books are predictable, I  really  thought you were different but you're not!"; she replied smiling and getting ready to leave.

"GET OUT!" she heard him yell after she banged the door. A faint sob was also heard a little later.

Maya gathered all her equipment and headed towards the south of the big city we call our hometown. 

She was late for work. An 'internship assignment' under Raghav Rao, Vice chairman of 'Seva Films'.

How many coffees and donuts she delivered for the lot , 25 hours a day 8 days a week only she could tell. 

For she enjoyed every single moment of her time there.

I know nothing about films, film making, and interning for film makers. But I do know 19 year old girls who 

progress from shooting crackers with a mini cam at Diwali parties to making short films with award winning directors certainly do.

Maya had talent. She was confident, fresh. She was working for the popular weekly newspaper 'Bhasha' too. This job, she wasn't so thrilled about..but it paid her rent.

I met her online through a writers group. She was going to move in with me over here, but her parents objected as they weren't to fond of my room mate, Pari, Maya's best friend. Why? that's another story.

Parties at Maya's 2 bedroom apartment were loud , late and simply put -AWESOME.

But they never got too wild or out of control. She kept her nose clean. 

As she polished her stylish, black retro glasses, she often seemed distant. There was something bothering her

I assumed. I didn't know her well enough to ask her. I did however show genuine concern and asked her best friend, who I knew quite well, and she said Maya was 'in despair as usual. 

Frankly speaking I was fond of her. I asked her out too and I  really wanted our relationship to grow, she didn't.  I confronted her one day about her problems. She gave me the key to her apartment and asked me to meet her here at 2:32 am sharp. 

I was late. Only her high pitched shrill urged my clumsy feet to stop strolling and start sprinting.  

I found her in this state..in this terrible-terrible state!

"And what about the murder weapon in your hand?"; asked the interrogator.

"That was in her bedroom. It isn't mine but my roommate's" ; I replied

And where is this roommate of yours? She was your girlfriend wan't she? Where is she?!, He boomed.

I told you, that's another story, I replied giggling;

"You know, we need people like you in the industry.. strong, bold, abusive. You might even help me complete my murder mystery novel! 

Wanna help me the great Jai write a novel?"..I said laughing psychotically..until I fainted.

Author's Note

Please be honest.