I feel like I had aged a hundred years in the last two months and why not? Two things that are considered essentially challenging by the Indian community are building a house and preparing for a wedding. When you try to do both simultaneously, aging a hundred years is slightly on the down side. I only hope that I don’t sport wrinkles and grey hairs on my big day and if I do, I only hope that my groom goes bald to compliment me! :) It all started in the first week of November when Vijay and I had set out to order our wedding invitations. That officially marked the beginning of the preparations for our marriage. Then came the house hunt process and home loans procedures to eat our time and chew our energies, and that is without mentioning the financial stress and budget planning. All the necessary and unnecessary, expected and the unexpected lined up in queue and liberally used our weekends, competing with the office work and Bangalore traffic that always swallowed the weekdays. The only solace in the midst of all the hassles is that busy though I am, it gives me immense happiness and satisfaction at the end of the day when I realize that I am finally, contentedly settling down.
There was a time when I felt compelled to blog on the vents and events of my life. Lately I had been blogging fictions and fantasies and very recently, I am hardly blogging. But there is one other place where I document my days in spite of my moods or schedules, a place that needs no sensor, and a place that’s only for me. Oh yeah, in this ultra modern twenty first century, I still suffer from the age old habit of dairy writing. Only when I purchased a brand new 2009 diary and was stacking my old ones that I realized that I’ve been suffering through it for at least 10 years now. It is a physical log of reminder to the number years spent or wasted just like the new one reminded me that I have not aged a hundred years after all. With my ‘settling down syndrome’ running its course, I fondly turned the pages of some of the previous years and that took me on a roller-coaster ride of feelings and sentiments.
I was around fourteen years old when I started pouring out to empty pages of a diary. Nah, pouring out wouldn’t be an apt term for that age, as the entries were mostly like “I went to Queen’s Land theme park with my cousins. Oh what fun we had!” or “The annual day celebrations in school happened this evening” and so on. I smiled at my innocence when I read my own lines written then with bold green sketch pen on the front page “Princess’ secret chamber…Trespassers prohibited!” as if visiting a theme park or celebrating annual day was any juicy secret worth trespassing.
As the years passed by I realize I had been unconsciously and involuntarily bonding with my diary stronger and stronger that I’ve started addressing it in second person. My revelations sent a strange feeling down my spine when the memories flashed before my eyes as if yesterday. That’s what diaries do; they make you re-live your life all over again with each word drawing images from your memory. It wouldn’t be a lie if I said I was slightly shivering.
How many people have I met in this ten years span and how many experiences! Some still in contact, some who are lost out, some had bonded closer, some gone afar, some I miss, some I’d never forget and some I’d never want to meet again. How many people! And how many experiences have they brought by. Good or bad, each experience has tamed and taught me things I wouldn’t have learnt from all the libraries around.
There is no better friend than a diary to speak out. My diary carries not only my life or people but my own mindset and emotion as I had narrated then. When I crib, my diary would simply listen. No judgments, no unsolicited advices, it simply listens till I feel heard out and relieved. When I give it sometime and re-read my verse, my diary would do my talking back to me and I become the listener. Hearing my own thoughts and feelings from my mouth but in a clearer mind had helped me sort out whatever mess that I was in. It made me feel good about my little unknowing deeds of kindness or feel sorry and ashamed for the wrongful things I had done or the hurtful things I had said. All in all, my diary has aided me to grow and mature from an innocent teenager to a ‘would-be’ bride of today without external dependency.
I even believe that my blogging inspiration sprang from my years of diary writing, agreed; blogs are revised and manipulated versions. Nevertheless, I wouldn’t have cultivated a liking for writing without my diary. Years from now, when I am old and withered, I would rather spend my years reading my diaries and re-living my life than chanting verses from Bible, Gita or Kuraan. What better way to count my blessings and repent for my sins than my own diaries! With just another three days to wind up with my 2008 dairy, here is a tribute to my next one.
I pause each night to have my say.
To voice my heart, my own way,
Imprinting memories to last and stay.
Pouring thoughts these pages down,
Gentle talk with silent sound.
My diary, my friend, I trust you to the end,
Come what may, don’t give me away!