You are the character from the book that I felt one with,
To live a thousand different lives in one birth
You are the quotes from great men, celebrities and obscure strangers,
Nevertheless I felt it was one-on-one discussions with me
You are the words that I read in between the lines in that poem,
But could not forget for a day and half
You are the talk shows that I listen to,
For inspiration has to be experienced and not a cacophony
You are the random pics I see on those apps,
And it fills the empty spaces between non-existent conversations
You are the stories I scrolled down at the swipe of a finger,
Only to let it linger at the back of my head for hours
You are that imaginary friend from my childhood that never left me,
Or on second thoughts, the one that I did not let go
For you don’t have to be alone to feel lonely
She sneaked into her dad’s office and asked if he would let her have one of the quaint little notepads. For next few months, it was her prized possession. She stuck pictures and hid feathers, dried flowers and leaves in it. She scribbled and doodled until the pages could no longer hold her fantasies.
Her friend had a little pink book with a lock on it. How much she envied to have one of her own. Her friend had got that from Dubai, but she had to make do with one which had LIC in bold print on the cover. Her teen mind would not rest until she could have one like her friend’s. A pair of scissors, glue stick, color papers and fancy sequins worked earnestly to make her wish come true. Dreams, doubts and secrets found their place in the pages.
She filled the pages with colors of her youth. As her heart beat her dreams, her book overflowed with poems. For the first time, some pages left her book and was passed onto him during class break. New pages were added to it, but despite the effort to fit it all in, some pages stuck out like a sore thumb.
Two halves. One half was full of tallies-bills to pay, EMIs to cover-she felt it represented her father’s side of her personality. The other half was full of recipes-her mother’s legacy. In the tug of war between the two she struggled to find herself.
In an empty nest, she sat. She bared her feelings, thoughts, moods into the pages and silence echoed back from the pages.
Life changed, situations changed, people changed!
The only constant, her diary!