Akash Pal has said “My Time Has Come”

The Kolkata Book Fair had opened its gates to the public, and like every year, the crowd had poured in, an endless wave of book lovers, scholars, aspiring writers, and curious souls searching for stories that spoke to them.

Under the golden winter sun, the Sen Publishing House’s pavilion stood in its usual grandeur, a literary temple where only the most prestigious works found a place. But this year, something was different.

Amidst the well-known titles, nestled between the books of acclaimed authors, a single, unassuming book stood on display—its cover simple, its name bold yet unfamiliar.

“My Time Has Come” by Akash Pal.

At first, no one noticed. It sat there quietly, waiting.

But then, the whispers began.

A Book No One Expected, A Story No One Saw Coming

A young college student browsing through the shelves picked it up, drawn by the title. He flipped through the pages, his curiosity deepening with every line he read. Intrigued, he carried it to the counter.

Then, a middle-aged woman looking for fresh voices in literature spotted it and bought a copy.

A group of aspiring writers, hungry for something real, passed it among themselves, their excitement growing.

By noon, word had spread.

Readers who had purchased it earlier in the day returned, their eyes shining with something rare—the thrill of discovery. They recommended it to strangers, spoke of it in hushed yet urgent tones. “You must read this.” The book had something—a rawness, a truth that resonated beyond polished words.

And then, it happened.

One order became ten. Ten became fifty. By the evening, the bookstall was overwhelmed with requests.

“Do you have more copies of ‘My Time Has Come’?” a woman asked breathlessly, clutching the last available copy.

The staff exchanged glances. They hadn’t anticipated this. No one had.

Except for one person.

The Call That Changed Everything

Far from the bustling fairgrounds, in a small rented apartment where the walls were lined with manuscripts that had never been published, Akash Pal sat alone, staring at his laptop screen, contemplating his next move in a world that had shut its doors on him.

Then, his phone rang.

The number was unfamiliar, the voice on the other end cool and composed.

“Mr. Pal, this is Chitrakshi Sen.”

Akash sat up, his grip tightening around the phone. “What?”

There was a slight pause before she continued. “I assume you have heard?”

“Heard what?” Akash frowned, his mind racing.

There was a soft sigh, as if she had expected him to be clueless. “Your book. ‘My Time Has Come.’ It’s selling faster than any of us predicted.”

Akash’s breath caught. “What?” he repeated, but this time, his voice was softer, unsure.

“We have received more orders than other books we had displayed in the book fair.” Her voice was unwavering, professional, but there was something beneath it—something resolute. “I wanted you to know.”

For a moment, Akash couldn’t speak.

He had spent years trying, failing, convincing himself that perhaps his words would never mean anything to anyone. And yet, here he was, receiving a phone call from the woman who belonged to the literary empire he had just accused of shutting people like him out.

“This… this doesn’t make sense,” he muttered, shaking his head. “No one even knew my book existed.”

“Until I made them see it,” Chitrakshi replied, a hint of challenge in her tone. “I believed in your work before you did, Mr. Pal.”

Akash pressed his fingers against his temple. This had to be a dream.

“What do you want from me?” he asked finally.

Chitrakshi’s voice was calm, yet firm. “I want you to meet me.”

“Why?”

“So we can talk about your upcoming writings.”

Akash exhaled, his mind still struggling to process the whirlwind of events.

Then, after a long pause, he murmured, “Where and when?”

A slight smile played on Chitrakshi’s lips as she leaned back in her chair.

“Tomorrow. My office. 10 a.m. sharp.”

And just like that, Akash Pal’s life was no longer his own. It had begun.

The Rise of Akash Pal

The next morning, Akash Pal walked into the grand office of Chitrakshi Sen, unsure of what awaited him. The walls were lined with towering bookshelves, the scent of old paper and fresh ink filling the air. This was the heart of the Sen Publishing Empire, where only the finest literary works had ever found a home.

And now, somehow, his book was part of it.

Across the polished wooden desk, Chitrakshi Sen sat with her usual composed elegance. Dressed in a deep blue saree, she looked every bit the woman who had been born into literary royalty. But her eyes—sharp, intelligent, and unreadable—rested on Akash with an intensity that unsettled him.

She slid a document across the desk.

“Read it,” she said.

Akash picked up the pages, his eyes scanning the words. It was an agreement—one unlike any he had seen before.

“Wait…” he frowned. “This says you’ll publish my books… for free?”

Chitrakshi nodded. “Yes.”

He let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” she said simply. “I believe in your work, Mr. Pal. And I know what it feels like to have talent that no one sees.”

Akash narrowed his eyes. “You? The great Chitrakshi Sen? You don’t know struggle.”

A flicker of something crossed her face, but it was gone before he could catch it.

“I know what it means to be trapped in expectations,” she said. “To be told who you should be, instead of who you could be.”

For the first time, Akash saw something beyond the polished heiress. Something real.

“And you think I could be…?”

She leaned forward slightly. “A writer who shakes the foundations of the literary world.”

Akash swallowed. He had fought for so long, struggled against rejection, convinced himself that he was alone. But here was this woman—this powerful woman—who saw something in him he wasn’t sure he saw in himself.

He exhaled. “What’s in it for you?”

Chitrakshi smiled, just a little. “Sen Publishing will take only a minimal profit share. The rest is yours.”

His heart pounded. This was real. His dream—one he had almost given up on—was unfolding before him.

He extended his hand.

“You have a deal, Ms. Sen.”

A Star Is Born

Under Chitrakshi Sen’s guidance, the books of Akash Pal began to flood the market.

“My Time Has Come” was just the beginning. One by one, his unpublished works saw the light of day, and Chitrakshi ensured that each book received the attention it deserved.

She put the best marketing minds on his work. She held exclusive readings and invited the most influential critics. She used the power of the Sen name to push his books into every bookstore, every literary discussion.

And the world responded.

Within months, Akash Pal became a name that readers whispered with excitement. His books, raw and deeply personal, spoke to a generation that had long been unheard.

Sales skyrocketed. Reviews poured in. Literary circles, once closed to him, began to open their doors.

And then, something unexpected happened.

The Call from Kozhikode

One evening, Akash’s phone rang. The number was unfamiliar, but something told him to pick up.

“Mr. Pal?” a deep voice said on the other end. “This is Arvind Menon from Malabar Publishing House, Kozhikode.”

Akash sat up. He knew that name. Malabar Publishing was one of the most prestigious literary houses in South India—a giant in the City of Literature.

“We have been following your work,” Menon continued. “Your books are making waves, even beyond Bengal.”

Akash felt his throat go dry.

“We want to offer you a deal,” Menon said. “A very good profit-sharing arrangement. We want to publish your old books, your new books—everything.”

Akash barely breathed.

For years, he had begged for someone to take a chance on him. And now, one of the biggest publishers in the country was offering him a golden opportunity.

“You would have complete creative control,” Menon added. “And full marketing support. We believe you’re going to change Indian literature.”

Akash ran a hand through his hair.

He had fought for this. He had bled for this.

But none of it would have been possible without one person.

Chitrakshi Sen.

He had accused her of being just another privileged elite. But she had done what no one else had.

She had believed in him before he believed in himself.

A New Chapter

Akash Pal closed his eyes for a moment.

His time had come.

But now, he had a choice to make.

Would he leave behind the woman who made it possible?Or was this only the beginning of something even greater—together?. Akash Pal chose to allow his books to be published and sold through Malabar Publishing also, nevertheless this decision does not impact the partnership with Chitrakshi Sen.