The breeze seemed to sweep away his thoughts. He was trying to concentrate on his shoes. That way, he needn't look into anyone. This wasn't new. He always did that.
Joy. He was a nobody to anyone who'd see him for the first time. With ordinary looks and a polite, shy demeanour- hardly anyone would find him interesting. He wasn't very tall- neither too short. He was neither dark nor fair. He was neither too smart nor dull. Joy. A man- among many men.
Joy's life started with an alarm. A tea and news paper were his companions during the morning hours. A hasty shower; he usually boarded a crowded bus to work- A man among many men.
His job usually left him with plenty of time to think. A dusty office, and a name plate that read-"Joy Kumar, M.A.,B.L (Advocate)", hardly fetched him any client. He had never had a chance to know, how good a lawyer he was! He was anonymous.
Anonymous, the nameless, or- "Anamika". Every one knew Anamika. A wizard. A creator. A writer. Everyone adored Anamika. No one had ever seen her. Or him! But everyone knew Anamika. Her words were her identity. Or, his!
"The Messiah", everday, would receive a new story. A white cover- with the address typed over it. Inside, a short story- story that no one had ever heard of. Neatly typed, and neatly folded. "The Messiah" itself, wouldn't sell even one copy, if it weren't for Anamika's stories! People were dying to meet her. Or him!
4th of June. "The Messiah" had a news that excited its readers. "Anamika would reveal herself"! It read.
"The Messiah" threw a grand party. Only guests were allowed. These guests were those who hardly ever read Anamika. They wore designer clothes and attended fancy parties. A large crowd- outside the hotel, were calling out- demanding to get a glimpse of Anamika.
Sumit- a handsome man in his thirties. He was smart and people adored him, wherever he went. Sumit- a lawyer, a writer, a celebrity.
The crowd applauded. They now knew, finally, whom they had admired. Who had captured all of their imaginations. They cheered. They didn't want him to leave. Almost, everyone was smiling. There was one, however, who didn't join the celebrations. Who did not look happy about seeing Anamika.
Sumit had achieved what he had always wanted. He wanted to be famous. He knew, he'd be famous. He'd do anything to achieve it.
Later, that night, Sumit sat looking at the old diary. He turned its pages. ANAMIKA. The first page had captured his attention, the moment he read it. He remembered very well- the November night- a few years ago- he was in college. He had nicked it. From whom- he did not remember. All that he remembered about the boy was that- he was a nobody!
A knock on his door. Sumit thought- "Fans! They are so silly"!
The morning breeze seemed to sweep away his thoughts. He was trying to concentrate on his shoes. That way, he needn't look into anyone. This wasn't new. He always did that.
Joy came to a halt in front of a small shop. He purchased a tea and news paper. He walked into the park and sat over a bench. He sipped the tea and flipped
the paper. It read- "Anamika murdered!"...
