The Author And The Writer

Author Kishor Amrit sat in a bustling cafeteria, deep in thought as he brainstormed ideas for his latest novel. The pressure from his publisher weighed heavily on him, feeling like the weight of the world on his shoulders. As a child, Kishor had a natural talent for writing, penning witty and humorous stories. Writing had been his means of making a living and shielding himself from the harsh realities of the world. He was unaware of the joblessness around him and, frankly, didn't care.

On this rainy day, Kishor found himself in the middle of the bustling cafe, sipping a cup of steaming chai. He watched as the froth dissolved into the water, a sign that the waiter had once again gotten his order wrong. Kishor disliked milk tea but wasn't in the mood for a quarrel that day.

Looking around, he noticed everyone engrossed in their phones or laptops. Kishor had his phone out too but decided to put it down and observe the people around him. In a sea of screens, his gaze landed on a young woman, approximately 24 or 25 years old, who was writing in a diary. She seemed incredibly happy and at ease, in stark contrast to the rest of the cafe's patrons. She laughed occasionally, seemingly lost in her own world.

The girl called a waiter over for the bill, and Kishor watched as the waitress initially wore a frustrated expression. However, her demeanor changed once the girl started speaking, and gratitude replaced frustration. The waitress handed the girl her bill, and she paid with her card, all the while maintaining her cheerful demeanor. As she left the cafe, Kishor's curiosity got the best of him. What was she writing that had her so engrossed?

He followed her outside, and she had an umbrella to shield herself from the rain. Kishor had left his umbrella behind, so he got wet while trailing her. As he caught up to her, he gently asked, hoping not to startle her, "Pardon me, ma'am, but I saw you in the cafe. You looked so happy compared to everyone else. If I may ask, what were you writing?"

The girl turned and smiled, recognizing Kishor. "My! Aren't you the author Kishor Amrit?"

Kishor's pride swelled as he replied, "Yes, indeed I am."

"Your stories are fine," the girl said dismissively.

Confusion crept over Kishor. What did she mean by "fine"? He was one of the greatest bestsellers of his time. Who did this girl think she was? Before he could respond, she continued, "To answer your question, I was writing."

Kishor's interest was piqued. "You write too? What's the name of your books?"

"I don't publish my work."

"May I read what you've written?"

"Sure," the girl said, rummaging through her bag to retrieve her diary. She handed it to Kishor, who eagerly flipped through the pages. His eyes widened as he read her work, and he exclaimed at the end, stunned, "Have you ever thought about becoming an author? Your writing style is so different, the emotion is perfect, and the storytelling is incredible. You could become a bestseller within a month!"

The girl replied calmly, "No thank you. I want to remain a writer, not an author."

Before Kishor could say anything else, the girl walked away. Her words left him pondering. What did she mean by wanting to remain a writer and not become an author? Why did she turn down such a life-changing opportunity? These questions occupied Kishor's thoughts for months.

One day, while at his publisher's office, he finally grasped the wisdom in the girl's words. His publisher was threatening to ruin his career if he didn't complete his book by the next month. That's when Kishor made a life-altering decision.

"I quit."

His publisher was taken aback. "What did you say?"

"I quit," Kishor repeated. "There's a difference between an author and a writer. An author writes for publicity, but a writer writes for oneself. I no longer want to write. I have talent, but I don't want to pursue it. I want happiness, just like the girl in the cafe."