After a series of memos and short poetries, i come up with a series of diary pages. i love the idea of writing a diary, talking to a diary. These will be a series of fictional pieces of a diary. the first one being here.
Sipping over a cup of green tea, I sit in the balcony watching my kids play on the ground. On the table lies a brown leather jacketed diary, dating back to 1984.
At times you feel like visiting the old pages of your life. I am not a writer. I scribble down things, but neatly. Some things half said are better at times.
The diary has the fragrance of an old book that I love. I flip through the pages stopping on 25th march, 1984. It’s the day I can never forget.
Today I feel to be the happiest person of this world. My wife gave birth to a baby boy. My happiness knows no bounds today. My first child. The feeling is different. How much I wish to hold him in my arms, but I can’t. My wife is with my parents in my native town. I am being posted 300 km far away from them. I shuttle weekly between home and work. I stand no chance of giving up work as I am the lone earning person of the house. I have a sister 13 years younger to me. The responsibilities are on my shoulders. Penning this down with mixed emotions, I trace back my childhood memories. All I know today is to give my son all those things that I wasn’t destined to.
I spent 18 years of my life in one room that my family had taken on rent. If I try to open the pages of my past generations, everyone lived in rooms on rent. We never had a house of our own. The household earning wasn’t that great that our family could save anything for the future. There were days we had our plates half filled and some other days when our plates empty….
The bottom of the page is ragged. Torn I suppose. In fact, eaten by a rodent. The entry is again incomplete. I don’t remember as to what I had written or I guess I don’t want to recall. Closing the diary, I walk to stand near the railing. It has started raining. The first rain of the season and my kids are dancing. If anyone asks, what is heaven? Then I would say, it’s in front of me.