Dear diary,
It’s been a long time since I wrote on you. Past few months made most of my life, or is ‘totally changed it’ a better phrase? You can decide upon it after I complete my entry today.
I will pour my heart out, no longer dark thoughts will inhabit the corners of my heart. I haven’t communicated with a person for so long. Even my doggy is no longer with me, at least he would wag his tail when I used to bare out my thoughts to him. His reaction would make me brim with wonder for the person who coined the adage- Dog is man’s best friend. And it hurt like hell when he got afflicted by some ghastly ailment, which was finally satiated and abandoned his frail, sparse-haired body along with his soul. For days I didn’t feel like eating a morsel. I felt completely lost without him.
Then the other ‘he’ came into my life, as if the Omnipotent had sensed my loneliness and sent this new ‘him’ to break the worthless monotony of my life. I was on my way to the school. The new faces were beginning to appear familiar. In the bus, even though I didn’t know the names of most students, I recognized them well by face and could distinguish them well if they happen to be scattered among thousands of students of different schools. A few displayed a hesitating smile while I spread mine across my face, while some just looked away and a few others appeared as if I had never ever come in their field of vision. ‘New environment, new faces..you’ll need some time to adjust. Just relax’ I would reassure myself. That day the bus was unusually overcrowded. I had to stand for the whole 30 minutes ride, juggling with my bag and my pack of project files. Those days they used to stuff us with numerous projects and you just couldn’t ignore them-internal assessment, you know. By the time the bus reached the school campus, steering its way through the rich greenery of a tea garden, I was exhausted! But it was still 7 in the morning and I was pondering over ways to keep myself awake through the assembly and the classes that followed. In the rush while coming out from the bus, I nearly lost balance but managed to land safely on the ground. But much to my dismay, my packet of assignment files was missing. I waited for all the students to get down and hoped it wasn’t crushed under the hasty black shoes. I readied myself to board the bus once again. Dear diary, I was on the first step of the foot board, when ‘he’ appeared. ‘He’ forwarded the packet to me with a gentle ‘Is this yours? Must have slipped out of your hand. You see, the other bus that comes by Sundar street had some problem, so all students coming by that bus had no other option but to squeeze themselves into our bus and did you see how rowdy they are?’ No, I don’t term it as love at first sight nor will I say that a lightning struck me. But heavens, I like the way ‘he’ spoke. There was something in his voice which soothed me and my anxiety disappeared. A mere ‘thanks’ was all I could say. I won’t say it was a great job he had done by handing to me my own packet. But how many of us bother to pick up a fallen packet and hand it to the owner and add a few words of comfort to dispel the awkwardness of landing in a new school altogether? And he was soft spoken, not that temperamental man who bursts out high decibel waves to emphasize his position-this I could decipher from his dealing with his juniors. He was the prefect of the school and never had I heard him behave rudely. To say that he didn’t ever fall prey to rage would be an exaggeration. After all, we are all humans and any human with an intact nervous system and emotional aspects is sure to have emotional outbursts, be it in the form of love, anger, blah, blah..My classmate, Manish’s purse went missing one day. He rushed to ‘him’ almost in tears and both of them began a frantic search for the purse which contained a few thousand crisp notes. Somehow he came to know that another boy of our class, Siddhart had stolen the purse. Manish’s mother was under hospitalization- she needed a kidney transplant but there wasn’t any suitable donor. So money was a big crisis for Manish. Repeated dialysis and medications had already manifested their importance on his family. ‘He’ caught him by his collar and literally dragged him to our HRT(Home Room Teacher). That was done in a fit of rage and after Siddhart had accepted his guilt and returns back the money, ‘he’ apologized for rendering his collar button less. And I was a silent observer to all this and I couldn’t restrain myself for loving him-his character. As for his appearance, he’s not that head turner ‘Tom Cruise’ for whom every girl falls head over heels. But he sure could make any sensible girl fall for him by his personality. Oh dear diary, I can go on and on, write about him for hours. He helped me to mix with the rest of my classmates. Days were flying past and I have locked those memories in the most secure place my heart. And one day, we expressed our love for each other. He found me beautiful and me him sensible, so we patched up. We were the happiest people on the earth.
Beauty, they say, is skin deep. Beauty is ephemeral. I didn’t believe these then. But now I do. The reason being I am no longer pretty. The deep cut on my right cheek from the car’s window glass is resolute to accompany me throughout the rest of my life. But by giving me its company, it made me bereft of the 3 most precious gems of my life. ‘He’ now has a new girl friend and turns ‘his’ back whenever he sees me in school. Perhaps I scared him, scared them all by my appearance. So, I made it easier for ‘him’, I left that school. There’s one more reason I can’t go to school now, but that’s secondary. Dear diary, why didn’t the glass pierce right through my eyes, that way I wouldn’t have had to see ‘him’ with her and those horrifying scenes. ‘He’s still happy, still polite with her...but the only difference being it’s not me but ‘her’ by ‘his’ side.
Now, I am exhausted. I had expected to see him on the day I was released from the hospital. I fractured my knee but it didn’t hurt. Still on my calipers, I watched my parents’ bodies transform into ashes. At that time my heart yearned for support. Yeah, my aunts, uncles, cousins were all there. But still I longed for his shoulder to cry on. Didn’t he comfort me at our very first meeting? But why couldn’t he when I longed for him the most? I waited but he didn’t come. ‘She’ had thrown a birthday party that day. It took me a lot of courage to collect my broken bones, face and most importantly, soul to buy this colored liquid. It cost me only 20 rupees, not a big deal! They used medications worth lakhs but couldn’t save my parents’ lives. This cheap liquid can cure me of all my pain but before that I have to do something. I got ‘his’ photo framed and relish the liquid while gazing at his face with my heart’s content. Dear diary, today’s special..25th November (the date on which he proposed to me last year)..
(purely a work of fictin);-)
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