Guwahati, Aug. 8 :     The loneliness of Chameli Memsaab has returned to haunt the creator of one of the most tragic characters in Indian literature. For five months now, acclaimed author Nirod Choudhury has been bedridden in cabin number 3 of the Gauhati Medical College Hospital's urology department. Afflicted with multiple ailments and rendered immobile by a broken hip bone, the 63-year-old writer stares blankly at the ceiling, his failing eyesight and memory adding to his helplessness. Except for his working wife, who comes to the hospital every evening, there is seldom any visitor. Relatives drop in once in a while, friends rarely. Chief minister Prafulla Kumar Mahanta did visit the hospital to enquire about Choudhury's health, but the rest of Assam seems to have forgotten the man who was once the toast of bibliophiles - a young, debonair writer with a flair for authoring classic love stories. Hordes of college students used to crowd the pavement in front of Delight Restaurant at Panbazar - Choudhury's favourite haunt - for a glimpse of the once-handsome writer in spotless white kurta-pyjamas, often with a cigarette dangling between two fingers. 'We used to talk about Jibanananda Das' Banalata Sen and Eichman till late in the evening. Norma Jean Baker - what did they call her? Yes, Marilyn Monroe - also figured in our discussions...She was quite a lady,' Choudhury recalls, straining himself to recollect everything in detail. 'The cups of coffee in front of me would go cold as new story ideas and words played in my mind,' he adds. Choudhury was a master writer, a story-teller with a style that was his own. One of his trademarks was putting his signature instead of getting his name printed at the end of each of his works, be it a short story in a magazine or a weekly newspaper column. His stint as a journalist - he went on to become the editor of the weekly Asom Bani - gave him an insight into the human psyche and also helped him gather material for his short-stories and novels. But it was the award-winning film Chameli Memsaab - adapted from the short-story of the same name - that was Choudhury's crowning glory. 'Remember the young man pushing a cycle and following Barkley in the story? That's me,' he says. Choudhury is, however, not entirely satisfied with the cinematic version of his story. 'The film-maker failed to bring out the true meaning of my story. It is my best love story, but Chameli Memsaab became almost a horror movie,' he says. Though it rankles that Chameli Memsaab could have been a better film, Choudhury is not complaining. He never has. Says Nokul, the ailing writer's constant companion for over 15 years now, 'Despite being bedridden, dada will not even ask for a glass of water. He does not like to bother anyone. That is how he broke his hip. I had gone out of the room when he went to the bathroom all by himself, slipped and fell.' It is probably because Choudhury takes disappointments in his stride that he has never uttered a word about not being conferred any award, while lesser writers have been honoured several times. 'The real award is love and acceptance by the people, isn't it?' he asks. As various ailments take their toll on his body, each physical movement is painful for Choudhury. But Nirod da, as he is addressed by many, manages a smile as a relative offers a piece of cake. He can hardly chew, but still mumbles, 'Bor sundar, bor meetha (Very nice, very sweet).' The word 'sweet' is apparently Choudhury's favourite, for he tastes sweetness in everything life has to offer him. Perhaps the same word best describes the man himself and his writings.