You are the best of my pal, you are the one who understands me. I can keep on speaking to you for hours and very patiently you listen to me without any complaints. You are the companion of a lifetime.
Can you guess whom I am talking about? Ok let me unravel the mystery. I am talking about my best pal my Diary. Mostly people wait for the dawn to wake them up, for the sun to brighten up their day and chirping of birds to enliven their spirits. But I wait for the sun to set beyond the horizon, for the dusk to give way to a moonlit night. Sitting on my bedside in lamp light I feel elated and rapturous with my dear diary. From the day I started writing my diary I came to know that writing is not apart from living. Writing is a kind of double living. By writing a diary I experience everything twice. Once in reality and once in that mirror which waits always before or behind.
So today let me take you through the pages of my diary.
I still remember on my 7th birthday I was gifted my first diary and from then on it had become an eminent part of my life. Spending time with my diary is more than just a writing experience. It is like trying to explain the inexplicable. My first diary entry was my birthday party itself. I wrote about the cutting of the cake amidst singing of birthday songs, the hullabaloo, the excitement and fun of grabbing the chair while playing musical chairs, bursting the balloons, and after the party excitement of opening the gifts. Writing them all down was just like living those moments again. As time started slipping many other things made their way on the pages of my diary.
Writing in my diary became such an imminent part of my life that my tryst with my diary became a routine affair. Sitting down every night and writing down a page or two helped me to jog my memory and recall the events of the day. This exercise keeps one’s brain sharp and active and you may be surprised to know that it is a yogic exercise in itself.
Anyways brushing against the pages of my diary was variety of things. The memorable school days, fight with friends, moments of enjoyment and fun and those boring history lessons where we yawned endlessly. I would complain, write stories, tell about whom I met and what I did, my favorite TV programmes, least favourites, I would draw, do almost anything. I would think of the best part of my day. Describe it in as much detail as possible, with as much that happened then as I can remember. Those times have gone, that life has been lived but memories are alive some in heart, some in mind and some in paper. Today even when I read my diary I can feel the beauty of those days when our innocence and playful attitude ruled our life.
As time passed a range of other memories found way on my diary then be it the first argument I had with my best friend over the silliest thing I can ever imagine. Or be it the first time I got my first snow-boots and trekked in snowy terrain. Or be it the firs time I went out to Kullu-Manali with my friends or my first crush on someone which I called puppy love. And how I was all thumbs up and being nervous when being around him. So my diary as a faithful companion experienced all the highs and lows with me. And yes then finally the love from being in the air also landed in the pages of my diary when I fell in love for the first time which was no puppy love but a true one. Writing about it was the best things that could have happened. Writing about how it was more romantic and emotionally uplifting than any other experience I had ever been through. With proper dates and time even at times everything was quoted from how on that brilliant October day the raindrops were fluttering as I coasted down the road that lead to my college. The day seemed like just another day at college. How it was another day in which I said hello to everyone I saw, called them by name, just another normal day with normal events. Except for the fact that I was introduced to this handsome guy by one of my friends and then how the journey of our love progressed each single day each single moment. The crunching of the gravel beneath his bike tires as we rounded the corners and went out for the first time.
From love to my ambitions everything found its way on the pages of my diary. I have always relied on writing as my personal outlet. When there were obstacles that I have encountered and had to overcome writing helped me through them. Writing, it is the icing on my plain sponge cake. It doesn’t always bring the sun out on a rainy day, but rather, serve as a shielding umbrella that locks out the harsh cold winds and wet breeze. Then may it be writing about my first love or my pool of ambitions. Everything seemed concrete when I wrote it and I was never alone.
I would just like to say that whenever you have anything to speak or express, do so and find your way of expression as I found mine by “Writing my diary with the breathings of my heart.”
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