Fiction : The character in the short story

An egg fell out of Neem’s hands on the day he decided to write a short story.

Neem had been thinking about Vyktr  when the egg slipped from his fingers.

 Neem and Vyktr had known each other for 12 years -  a cycle of episodes when Neem and Vyktr were close to each other, sometimes even cuddling each other during the first three years, and episodes when Vyktr wanted nothing to do with Neem. Neem ended the happy episodes by asking Vyktr what he really wanted. Vyktr would then stop calling and talking to Neem.  Neem would then have imaginary conversations, quarrels sometimes, with Vyktr, rehearsing in his head how he would say no or try to be neutral with  Vyktr the next time they talked. The most recent break up had happened two days ago.

The quiet crack of the egg interrupted the reinventing of the past and the creation of the what-if scenarios which were occupying Neem’s mind.

Neem’s first thought was that the broken egg was a sign to repent from the sin of adultery. Vyktr was married to a woman, going on nine years. Vyktr seemed happy in the marriage. Neem had tried to be pure in his fantasies about Vyktr, just cuddling and never going all the way. He looked at the egg and wondered if cuddling was adulterous too.
His next thought was that his fingers had lost their grip, that this was a sign that he was losing everything.
The egg yolk was intact, golden, floating in the transparent egg white. It was  a small dome of brightness on the bare wooden floor.  The cracked white egg shell pieces were at the side of the halo of the egg-white.

“This mess on the floor is beautiful” Neem thought.. “I could have painted this scene and get my mind off of Vyktr”
 He wished he could feel that he was getting back his grip on things even if his fingers sometimes felt loose.
He knew that that his non-relationship with Vyktr was like a bad soap opera or a collection  of short stories with unhappy endings.

He needed to do something different.  Neem looked down at the egg and decided that he would write a short story. He had never written one before. 

He had no idea how to begin. He liked to read short stories but he never understood what made a good one.

He thought about his short story while he washed the wares, swept the house and cooked. He was careful not to dream too much about the short story or about winning prizes for it. He did not want reminders about losing his grip when his mind was on something exciting. 

He had to go out to buy water but he was anxious to get started on the writing. He decided to go on the Internet to look for guidance.

He found a lot of websites with things like 11 steps, 9 steps, 7 steps, 10 tips to write a good short story. 

He watched a few videos with nice people making it sound easy.

He learned that he first needed a ‘complicated’ character who would go through some crisis or conflict and grow during the story. And that the growth had to happen quickly.

Neem thought of using Vyktr as the complicated character. But he wanted to forget the jhanjat with Vyktr and not think about Vyktr’s complexities.

One of the websites suggested watching at people to develop a character. He liked to mind people’s  business, but had never looked at features, mannerisms and behaviours to consider the character of the person.

He decided to go buy the water and to look closely at the people around him.

He did not see anyone on the road as he walked to the minibus stop .He wanted to get back to the writing of the short story,  so he took the first minibus which came up even though the music was loud. The bus had enough space for Neem and the two five gallon ‘blue’ bottles

The singer and DJs were cursing and calling on women to do all kinds of things.  Neem sat in the back seat. He was feeling clumsy with the bottles but the one bottle on his lap and the other at his side kind of provided a shield through which he could do the character study.

He had heard somewhere that he could develop the characters using questions.  There was an elderly woman in the seat in front of him.  A young man slouched in the corner seat down from Neem. A young woman and a toddler sat behind the driver. 

Where was the elderly woman going? What did she think of the music? Did she like the music and was she just ‘riding the bus’? Was she in love with someone and thinking of them so she was not hearing the lyrics? Was the young woman the mother of the child? Did she kidnap the child from somewhere? Why was she looking out the windows, did she think someone was following her? Was she bothered about the music or was she a singer who could sing back to the men?  Why was the young man so serious? Why was he looking straight ahead and not out of the window? Was he related to any of the other passengers? Did he like the music? Was he nervous because he had a lot of money in his bag? Did he wonder if Neem would hit him on the head with the empty five gallon bottles and steal the money?

The young man’s body was stiff, not moving. Unlike the conductor who was moving his head and shoulders to the music. Was the conductor hearing the lyrics? Did he like the music? Did he realise that he was moving the same way even though the driver changed the tune?

The bus driver was fiddling with the buttons on the music player. It seemed that most of the tunes had lyrics calling for women to assume all kinds of sexual positions. Was the driver a pastor on the weekends? How much money did he think he would lose if he only played gospel music? How often did he have to change the tune in the bus? Did he ever tell the person who sold him the music to avoid dirty lyrics? Did he like oldies but was ashamed to play them? Was he scared of what the passengers thought about him if he played oldies or gospel? Did he and the conductor talk about the music in the bus?

The minibus reached the stop near the water store. Neem reached out the door with his right arm holding one bottle, then he put  foot on the ground, then the other  foot, then brought his left arm out with the last bottle and then tried to get his balance. He stretched out the pain in his body as he walked to the store.

“I see you take bus to come with the two bottles.. “ the security guard at the water store told him. She was about Neem’s height. Neem had seen her before but she never talked to him. Neem thought she was a bit intimidating, her face was always serious.

She wore large framed black rimmed spectacles and her hair framed her face under the cap of the uniform. Neem got excited about the security guard, falling in love with a customer who came out of a minibus.  Did the security guard watch him every time she was on duty? Did she want to know him better? He had been coming to the water store for a year. Was she impressed by the way in which he unfolded his 182 cm body (according to  people who measured his height in case he wanted to vote)?  Or did she see his face wince as the body creaked ?

“Yes, I take the bus, is easy you know.. I take taxi to go back.“ Neem replied.

The security guard did not say anything.

Neem filled the bottles and walked out of the store , holding one in each hand.

“Man, you strong, you could take the same bus and go home’ the security guard said.

Neem wondered if it was a compliment, that she was admiring his grace and strength. The love story idea seemed possible. In the story the customer could say something like ‘I could carry any burden, I strong bad, you want me carry your burden fuh you?”.

Neem wondered if she admired the strength of all the men and women who lifted two bottles out the store. He also wondered if she was making fun of him to ease the boredom of watching people fill water.

Neem was anxious to get home to work on the short story. He had to call the base twice for the taxi. His mind was working on plots. The security guard saving man fetching bottles to minibus after he collapses on the road, and then marries him and discovers he is rich and they live happily ever after.
Or minibus conductor is shaking head and shoulders on the bus and the passengers do not realise that he is sick so the whole bus has to go to the hospital and each passenger has some reason they do not want to go to the hospital.

A car with private number plates pulled up in the parking space near to Neem. The car turned slowly. Neem thought of how he moved  coming out of the minibus 

The driver had white hair. He was wearing a red cap. The driver said quietly, slowly ‘this is the taxi’.

Neem was not sure. The windows were all open. The seats looked like they had not been cleaned in a long time. The car was mostly white except for some rusty patches.  The driver spoke , words moving like the car
“Put the water in de trunk’

Neem wondered if the man was as slow as the car. The man got out of the car to open the trunk. The man moved smoothly and quickly. Neem thought “He could have been driving a new model Porsche.”

The car moved slowly through the traffic. “Traffic plenty today man, is what going on? Neem asked the driver.

The driver said softly “Some days it like dis”
Neem wanted to say to the driver ‘When last you read a short story?” but he did not feel confident.
Did the taxi driver know what was going through his mind? Neem wondered how much of a short story he could write about the taxi driver who did not say much. He could create a character who merged two taxi drivers, but Neem thought that for the first short story, he needed to keep things simple.

Neem reached home, lifted the two bottles of water up the steps in one hand and raised them up to put on the shelf. If only the security guard could see him now.

He sat at the computer. His mind was racing, so many characters, so many stories.

He went back to the morning, and the egg on the floor. He thought of using the egg as a character.  He was not sure how he could give life and personality to an egg though, but he imagined that egg yolk was a kind of eye  which looked up at him.  The egg being the observer of the man lost in impossible love.

Neem realised that the development of the complicated character was going to be too difficult. But  he was not ready to give up on the short story idea.
Neem decided to add some complexities to his life and write the first story about himself.

(I am grateful to all the people who gave me feedback on the draft - V K)