Bilal, a young boy dreamt of becoming a well-known writer. He had read every book available in the small library of his town. He aspired to write a story that was as great as those of his favourite authors.

There was only one problem. Every time Bilal tried to write, he could not develop a single story idea, and everything went blank.

One night, as Bilal was tossing and turning in his bed, he saw a dream in which he was holding a wooden box. Bilal opened it and saw the most beautiful pen he had ever seen. The nib of the pen glistened in the golden light of the lamp. He took out the pen and glided his fingers across its smooth marbled exterior. The pen gave Bilal the feeling of a regal writer sitting in a royal palace.

Bilal began scribbling with this beautiful royal pen. But, to his surprise, it didn’t write anything. He tried again and again, intensely and fiercely this time, but not a single letter was written. Bilal became frustrated.

“Why wouldn’t you write?” he demanded.

“Uh-uh,” the pen softly cleared its throat. “First, you must find the secret of the pen. Only those who know the secret can write.” And then Bilal woke up from his dream.

The next day, Bilal was determined to find the secret of the pen. First he went to a hairdresser and asked if he knew the secret.

“My boy, how can you write if you don’t look like a writer?” So the hairdresser sat him down and styled Bilal’s hair. He also gave Bilal a pair of huge glasses.

“There you go!” he exclaimed. “That would be two thousand rupees.”

“What?” Bilal stammered. “But I don’t…”

“That’s okay, my boy,” the hairdresser waved his hand. “You can pay me back later when you are rich and famous,” and winked.

Bilal went straight home and sat down to write. But he could not think of a single idea to write a story on. The next day, Bilal met a coffee maker at the café.

Dejected Bilal asked him, “How can I write a story?”

“Do you drink coffee?” the coffee maker asked.

Bilal said no.

“Aha! But that is the secret to writing. Have some coffee, stay up all night and you will notice dozens of ideas to write stories will come to you!”

That night, Bilal went home and warmed the coffee the café owner had given him. Bilal stayed up all night with a pen and paper in front of him, but there was no success.

He woke up tired, sleep-deprived and disappointed. When Bilal passed by a flower shop, the smell of the roses caught his senses. The floral greeted Bilal, who told her about his troubles and everything he had been through.

“Oh… dear,” the floral shook her head, “Look at Shakespeare, could he write as much had he just walked around talking about his day? Surely, he must have never talked to anyone and that is how great stories came in his mind.”

The boy went home and didn’t speak to anyone for an entire week. By the end of that week, Bilal could not take it anymore. However, still no great story came to him.

All the advice Bilal had gotten till now had failed. He gloomily sat under a tree and then he heard a voice say, “What’s the matter, young boy? You seem upset.”

Bilal sighed, “I want to write a great story but I don’t know the secret of the pen.” Then he looked up and his eyes lit up. “Y-you!” Bilal managed to throw out the words. “I know you! You are that famous author ... oh, I have read all of your stories!”

Bilal waved the book he was reading in that man’s face, “You have written this book!”

“Well,” chuckled the old man, “I suppose I did. It was a long time back.” He continued, “But I can understand your frustration. It took me a while to learn the secret of…”

“So you know the secret of the pen?” Bilal cut him mid-sentence and immediately realised. “Oh, excuse my manners. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“That’s alright, my boy,” said the old man. “Well, eventually all writers find out the secret.”

“So? Can you tell me?” Bilal excitedly asked.

“Hmm, oh, alright. Well, the secret of the pen is to write bad stories,” the old man disclosed.

“What! Is that the secret?” the boy looked confused.

The old man patted his hand. Then he took something out of his pocket and gave it to the boy. It was the same pen the boy had seen in his dream.

“Don’t worry about writing a great story,” said the old man. “Just start writing. In the beginning, most of your stories will be bad. But if you keep at it, one day you will look back and realise that you have also written many wonderful stories.”

“But, but that means anyone can be a writer,” said Bilal, very surprised by what he heard.

The old man chuckled, “You have found another secret! But it’s a secret, so not many people know.”

That night, Bilal took out the pen the old man had given him. He started to write his own story.

Published in Dawn, Young World, November 9th, 2024