The Ruffled Pages of my Diary

The ruffled pages of this diary of mine are often filled with thoughts when my mind is wandering in unknown locations, the ones I've probably never been to, before. A thousand unspoken secrets lay buried here. It knows all about my scars, my downfalls, those hideous mistakes, times my heart skipped a beat, the glorious victories I boasted of and the ones where I shined secretly, all from the times I've chosen to let out my insides. Scribbled are some descriptions, of the people who've never failed to touch this fragile heart of mine. Those little acts of kindness, hatred of some, disgust towards some, infinite love I have always got, the love of my family and then, people like you.


If I ever were to describe you or people like you in a single word, I'll be perplexed.
What will I say?
A thousand words won't be enough and they ask of one. Lucky are the people who find souls like yours. The infinities inside you, amaze me, just like the spark in your eyes. With every passing day, you rise up in my eyes, that edge of perfection shines brightly. You know, the sort of constellations I can see inside your deep eyes would never be found up in the sky. Those clusters of stars reflect all those things, join all those dots about you. They fetch me the answers my soul seeks. What surprises me more is the quality of my words, my writings, when I have to write about you. These ruffled pages of my diary secretly laugh over it because that perfection is never found otherwise.

Would I ever be able to describe something as beautifully as you?
Well, I doubt.
There is nothing even near to that. People like you are rare, the warmth they carry along with themselves with every step they take, the one each of us seeks is finally seemed to have found by me. Or better, it walked up to me. I can't really find words to describe you, people of your kind. You hold more depth than the beautiful sunrise, the endless crystal lake, the climb on the hills, the first drops of the much awaited rain, Those wonderful bounties are nothing when people like me turn to look around to see people like you standing right next to them.

But There is one thing which fits in perfectly.
Have you ever heard about the idea of "coming home"? You're that to me.
You're my home, my safe place, the solace of my insecurities, my hiding place which somehow gives me strength to face everything. You're home to me, warm and safe. No matter what happens, in the end I'm gonna walk up to you, my solace.

The funny part is, I know that people like you belong to no one, You can't really settle at one place. Your nomadic heart would never let you. One day, its all going to fade away like a far away dream. The mirage of wishful thinking of mine will vanish, the bubble of all the mindless dreaming is going to burst. We'll be on different ways and I might always try to reach you, walk into my home once again. I might find someone of your kind with a striking resemblance but it won't be you. Do we go on and find ourselves another home when our situations change?
We don't.
Home is always the same, my solace would always be you. Seeing you walk away after some days, months, years, or whatever it would be, that one day, all I'd say would be, "I'll never be at home again."

And I sit back wondering, what if you get to see these ruffled pages? Would you go away? Would I have to run away?
But our home, it doesn't abandon us, even when we commit the darkest of sins. And we run back to our Home, we never run away from it. That way, i would always find my way towards you.

I'm Sorry, Ma

It was Mother’s Day, that year. She took a deep breath, trying her best not to cry. She had lost her mother last winter. With a deep regret in her heart, she carried on with her work. There were days she couldn’t believe that her mother was no more. She used to miss her mother, her warmth, her words, everything. At one point, all those things seemed to be irritating to her and now all those things were something she wanted back anyhow. There came the dark, gloomy days when all her hope used to get consumed, she used to feel lost, lifeless. At times like those, she needed shelter and she felt homeless. She used to sit back, at odd hours of the night, thinking about life and death. She never knew that death could move her insides in such an adverse manner. She used to think how death comes to one person and along with that, many relationships, dreams, promises, they all die. With a death of a single soul, a lot of other things die as well. 

Her mother was all she had. Her father died when she was fourteen and since then her mother’s entire world revolved around her. And as she grew up, she learned new things, excelled at them, her priorities changed which often ended up her mother being neglected by her. But never did her mother said a word against it! If someone was happier than her, seeing her excel, it was her mother, who used to stand proud on her daughter’s achievements and encourage her more and more at every step of hers and every decision she took.

She crossed the mirror in her room and glanced at her reflection. The dampness on her cheeks was quite visible. Tears were trickling down her cheeks and her eyes had gone red. She felt helpless, she wanted to hug her mother, the closest one to her since she was born but she couldn’t. She was afraid to die herself but too weak to live completely too. Her life was changing into a hollow shell, devoid of everything, living for the mere sake of it. The walls of her apartment were evidence of her loneliness and her regrets. She covered them all with their old family pictures and the stuff she got from her mother’s house. Only those felt like home to her, the rest of the apartment was just another place she had to live in.

She sat on her bed and closed her eyes, wiping the tears trickling down the closed eyes, swallowing the lump which was formed in her throat. She took a deep breath. Her thoughts took her back to that particular day, she had very well expected that to happen.

“The white snow glistened in the winter sun just like a fresh white page. The trees which were once laden with leaves were now bejeweled with frost. People could actually feel their breath rising in visible puffs. The winter wind was howling, biting rosy skins. The entire sidewalk had been covered with snow. The cold winter which was bitterly beautiful failed to amuse her. The cold sensation was seeping inside her mittens, making her fingers numb. For her, the ground and the sky were looking similar, it was all grey, not a shade different. There was no horizon, just grey. Little snowflakes pranced around her. While some people around her stood and enjoyed the winter beauty, others danced in those snowflakes, there she was, getting uneasy and unappeased about everything around her.

And she saw the illuminated sign of the bus which was coming closer. She waited to board it. She took a deep breath and thanked God that the bus was on time. Because somewhere in the other side of the city, her mother lay on a hospital bed, breathing her last counted breaths, waiting for her daughter to see her once. She wanted to go and hug her mother, feel sorry for all the times she had neglected her. She prayed to God for her mother’s well-being and boarded the bus. The half an hour journey felt torturous. Minutes were not passing easily, her uneasiness was increasing with every passing second. 

She reached the hospital and rushed into her mother’s room. Her mother's deep, sunken eyes lighted up seeing her daughter who was in tears. She tried her best to hide those trickling drops but she couldn’t. The lady in front of her was her mother, the one who knew her way too well, more than she knew herself. She held her mother’s frail hands and took them into hers, kissed them softly. Tears falling down her eyes were now finding their home at her mother’s hand. She knew the moment was coming, it was going to come any second. She wanted to hold her mother as long as she could. She thought of apologizing, for not being a good daughter, but no such words made their way out. She cried and said, “I love you, Ma”. Her mother’s curved lips indicated the happiness she felt after listening those words. And she sat with her mother for a while, resting her head on the bed, near to her mother’s hand. 

After a while, she wiped her tears, her vision had been blurred. Her biggest fear stood true right in front of her. Her mother was no more. Those frail hands couldn’t move anymore, they were lifeless. That little curve was still there, but it had no life in it. Her mother was gone, gone to a better world. And she was left alone, in this dark and cruel world.

And she opened her eyes. Tears were already flowing out of her eyes. And she muttered, "I'm sorry Ma, I really am."

The Dark Night

It was as dark as an empty heart of an abandoned soul. Even the brightest of stars which adorned the sky everyday were hiding that night. It was a New Moon night. The silver light of the moon which lit the dark dungeons of the night sky was not visible. It was as if the moon and the stars had been in a ferocious battle and neither of them won and nor they could come to a conclusion. So as a sign of resentment they both decided not to face each other and hid somewhere far in the galaxy, the place which was out of sight of puny humans. He finished his daily chores and set off towards the nearby hills. If there was something he cherished every night, it was staring at the beautiful starry night. He loved how the shine of stars and the moon motivated him. While he was lurking around in the darkest hours of night, all he could see was some faint lights coming up from distant windows. An irony hit him hard. If the dark night is the place for all evil to occur, it was also the same darkness and those distant lights which inspired many. He was a fickle minded soul. He couldn't decide which side to take, the good or the evil. 

He was surprised how things change, so soon. He wondered how the day and night, being poles apart, blended perfectly into each other. A few hours ago, the sky was red, the sun was disappearing behind those big, mighty mountains. Threads of orangish-red light were lingering in the sky along with trails of clouds. The bright light must have battled the dark light to which it had lost, only to return to take revenge in the morning. Birds flocked together to reach their shelter before the entire world was painted by shades of grey, blue and black. And the mighty moon along with its army of sparkling stars soon adorned the sky. And it happened every day. The change was constant, yet it was there. He looked at the sky which was without the stars today and he wondered if there was a new world up there. And he wondered if there was someone, maybe his counter-part on that side, staring at the same and having the same thoughts. He wondered if there was some limit to that sky or was it infinite?

And the stars had always surprised him, as always. Some of them were dull, merely flickering while there were some bright ones that illuminated the dark sky with their silver light. They were just like the people and situations in his life, some prominent while the others just merely existed for the sake of it. The night sky used to freckle with stars and he felt a sense of relief when he stared at them. He felt as if his worries were nothing, there was something way more bigger than all of it, it was infinite. But today, they were hiding. He was wondering where all of them had disappeared, just like the people in his life which used to hide when he needed them.

 He sighed and set out towards his home to get some rest. Had he done enough things, the kind of things he should have done for himself or the people that meant something for him? He was confused. He didn't know how and why this feeling had been playing inside his head. He unlocked the door to his house. It was dark all around. His family members seemed to have dozed off by now. He climbed up the stairs slowly, careful not to wake up any member of his family. He went inside the toilet and switched on the light. He saw a reflection in the mirror. It was him. He splashed water on his face and looked at that reflection in the mirror. His tired eyes were asking him the same question, the one that he himself had no answer to. The surface of the mirror had black splotches at some places. His image was distorted but he could see his eyes clearly.

Suddenly, a thought hit him hard. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. He was painted in colours of black, grey and white. Darkness had taken over him, which was evident, as his thoughts told him. And he thought, “We all have it inside us, both the dark side and the bright one. And it’s for us to choose, which path to walk on. And even though the dark side looks more luring and kind of a shortcut, the bright is what is right at the end of the day but still we prefer not to walk down that road. We all have galaxies buried inside us, waiting to be discovered. Yet, we prefer to thrive upon the darkness which feels like home somehow. Maybe because we are too afraid to go out in the light again. And all this goes on, it is infinite, it is meant to go on, always.” 

He laughed over his thoughts. And he took small steps towards his room to sleep. He closed the window and looked out for once. The dark night, it started a whirlpool of questions and bizarre thoughts inside him, the one’s he would be stuck with, for a long time. And they’d only settle when he chose a path for himself, the one he would walk down. He sighed and closed his eyes to ease his mind and get some sleep, something which we really needed to put his thoughts to rest. The dark night challenged his fickle mind and he went to sleep, praying that he would find his answers soon.

Santa's List

"Son, you need to get ready now. We are having the Christmas Party at our place tonight. Guests would be coming in very soon." 

His father said this to him, while the little ten year old Aryan was reading one of his many story books.

He had some other plans. He frowned. He was supposed to visit the nearest Church along with some of his friends, the friends his parents didn't approve of. He belonged to a rich family while his friends where the children of servants who worked for his parents and lived at the back of his house. 

He knew what was going to happen. Like every year, his parents and their friends would end up drinking too much. Some of them might blabber out some secrets which weren't meant to be disclosed or the others might get into a fight. While the ones left would get amazing stories for the town to feed on for a month or so. He had always felt out of place at such gatherings and tried to avoid them as much as possible. 

He walked to his parent’s room. His mother was busy picking out her dress while his father was almost ready and giving orders to someone on the phone. 

"Here comes our baby", said his mom. 

He had mustered up a lot of courage and went to his mom.

He said, "Uh, umm, Mum, I was wondering if I could go to the church with my friends instead. I have no business in your party. Maybe I could skip it this time." 

He saw the way his parents expressions changed and he knew he was in trouble. His father was fuming with anger. He had told him a thousand times to stay away from those friends of his.

To control the situation, his mother said, "Listen love, it's Christmas today. Do you want that the Old Santa adds you in his Naughty List like the rest of those poor friends of yours? You're in the Nice List sweetie, do you want it to change? I and your father would never like to see you on the other side. You and those kids, aren't the same baby. See your clothes darling and look at theirs. If you stay with them all the time, how would the Old Santa make out who our Aryan is?" 

And that's how she said a no to him.

He walked out of their room, disappointed. His friends must be waiting for him. He promised them that he would come. He lived in a big mansion but he still felt suffocated.

And the party started. The same thing which happened every year was being repeated. Almost all of the guests were busy within themselves. Everyone was having glasses of wine in their hands, munching up the food, they were discussing each other, bitching about each other and laughing away to those stories. His parents were busy attending the guests. 

 And that was his perfect chance to escape. He filled a bag with some of the delicacies that were prepared for the guests and tiptoed to the servant’s quarters from the back door. 

He saw his friends and a smile lighted up his otherwise disappointed face. He gave them some food and little gifts he had got for them. Those little children hadn't been this happy since a long time.

"Merry Christmas friends." And he hugged them.

And then one of them said, "How come you're here Aryan? We thought you won't be coming today. We thought you would be inside since a party is going on." 

And the rest of them nodded in unison.

"Mom said that if I see you people, Santa would put me in his Naughty List. But I don't believe her. The people inside, drinking, bitching about each other, cursing each other should be the ones who should be in that list. All those people who think you and me shouldn't be together because we are not the same should be in that list. I wonder how we are different. We all are little kids celebrating Christmas here, aren't we? And even if Santa puts me in that list, I wouldn't mind at all. I get to celebrate this day with all of you. I get to make you all smile. I won't mind being in that list. But I don't think so he'd put me in that. We all are in his Nice List, I'm very sure. And I hope this year, Santa comes and tells this to my parents and makes them realise, I really wish. We're in his Nice List friends, I know." .

Little Aryan looked towards the sky and wished that Santa would listen to him. 

And the children enjoyed their Little Christmas Party and along with those little gifts, Aryan shared a lot more with them, his happiness. Unlike the one going on inside his house, this one was merrier, this one was the reason those little faces had a big smile on them. 

His Wait

The biting cold chilled his fingers and the cold spread painfully throughout his feet. It was as if he was walking the snow laden path barefoot. The cold wind was coming inside through that broken window pane he had thought of fixing last week. The barren trees outside stood mocking at him, just like all those cold winters. The winters went and came back, but that cold, numb sensation inside him just kept on growing. He tried to get up but it was as if his blood was frozen. He could barely move.

It had been a good number of years since she was gone. Eight years, four months and twenty one days, he had kept a count. Every passing day turned out to be a horrible reminder of her absence. Her voice still lingered and often danced around, in his head. The cottage he had been living in was meant to be a surprise for her birthday that year. How excited he was for that! But everything went in vain. Each part of him ached, the winter was making it worse. But he waited for it to end, to reach his solace. The only thing that gave him warmth were memories which later became the reason of his cold shivers. He used to spend hours looking at those old photographs from those occasions when people often wished him with long life and happiness. The former was what he wanted to get rid of and the latter hardly visited him.

He was now in the seventh decade of his life but in his mind he was still in the sixth, the time he still had her with him. The terrible ache of his degrading body parts gave him a weird pleasure, he wished for death every day since the ever increasing ache inside his heart was suffocating him.

When he closed his eyes, while the rest of memories were slowly fading, he could clearly recall the first time he was told about her. He was told that she was the girl he would be marrying. In those days, that’s how marriages were fixed. And a thought struck him when he first saw her, she was beautiful. With passing time, he used to think of new ways just to bring a smile on that face which was too shy to talk to him in the initial days. Over the years he became a big man with a sole reason, just to keep her happy and give her everything. Theirs was a relationship bonded over deep emotions. His ever increasing love, hers was silent yet so affectionate and tender. They gave the best to their kids and had no complaint from life and God. But there was something he wanted to do, something that was meant for her, something that would make her fall for him all over again. Over those years they shared an inseparable bond and now to mark it, he had planned something. He was building a cottage for her at the countryside. How she loved the nature and its bounties and the countryside had always been her favourite. It was meant to be a surprise for her 62^nd birthday.

But fate had something else in its bag for him. He clearly remembered the vows they took, “until death do we part”. It was a hollow lie. Death was just the physical separation he had to suffer while she had gone to another world, she just disappeared. With every passing day, the void inside him ached. Even the sun couldn’t warm him, all he needed was that face he saw every morning when he woke up. He cried, he smiled, not sure how to express himself, he clinged onto those moments they had spent over the years.

He had always heard that Time is a wonderful healer, it would heal all the pain. But the truth was just the opposite. Her scent vanished into the thin air after a while. Her memories were slowly getting erased from his mind. And that was what he feared the most. He didn't want the old age to take a toll on the only hope he had been living on, her memories. There were days when he used to laugh with a glass of wine in his hand, remembering how she used to say that she didn't want to live a single day without him. And her wish was fulfilled, she left him, not by choice though. And now he wished for his end every single day and wondered why God had been so partial towards her. What sins had he done to receive such a punishment!

 But today it had been a bit different. He tried to get up but it felt as if his legs weren't working anymore. With the support of the bed, he did. And he felt a deep pain in his chest and he couldn't breathe. In seconds, he collapsed and his body fell on the icy cold floor. And the last thing he knew was, he smiled in that pain because he was going away, going away from the world he didn't want to live in. He was going to the world where she existed, the world that existed on the other side. He got rid of the pain he had been living with all those years, the deadly pain of separation.

The Little Red Book

The naked winter trees lined up the hill-side road. The winter wind howled and it bit her frozen cheeks. It was getting darker but she took small steps to reach her destination.  Streetlights were looking misty in the fog. The streets slept under a blanket of thin layer of snow. The milky white moon which had just appeared looked like an ornament in the dark sky. 

She stood in front of her destination, her eyes were shining. It was the town's oldest book-store, the one located at the other side of the city, the one she'd walk down to every fortnight when she got her pocket-money, the one she'd buy her books from, the one place she came to, no matter how the weather was. She was a writer, the one who'd write things, stories, poems, thoughts or drew scribbles in her worn out red coloured journal. That was her little secret which she decided to let out someday.

 She stepped in.

The smell of old and new books lured her. The old shopkeeper smiled when he saw her, he knew how dearly she loved those black characters on those white pages. She was looking for her new companion, her new book, when she heard someone call her. It was a familiar face. The tall boy, with geeky glasses and a red muffler was from her school. He was Aryav, the school's Head-Boy and one of the most popular faces. She wondered why he called out her name and how he knew her name at the first place.

"I heard you often come here. This is my uncle's shop. It's quite surprising to see people our age indulged into reading. You seem to be someone who loves books and reading, and of course, uncle told me how you visit this old bookhouse every fortnight. It really surprised me. In this age of social media, when internet has taken over everything, I always wonder how some people still love books. You seem like the best person who can answer me Noor.", Aryav said, hoping for a satisfactory reply.

"Well then Mister you haven't yet discovered the happiness these little creatures give you. The smell of books can never be replaced. The fictional characters, they aren't just imaginary, they live inside us, forever. The stories of these books walk along us and change us in unimaginable ways. You can cry, laugh, love, dance, feel every emotion when you jump inside a book. The pain of ending a story can only be cured by the start of a new chapter of another book. And people, they leave, they hurt, books, they do hurt but never leave. And you know what, the times you feel alone, pick out any book and turn any random page,read out some lines, a smile will light up your face. Books are eternal love Aryav. And if you think I am wrong, try reading one. You might end up having one of the best experiences of your life." Noor said, opening up a new door for Aryav.

"Seems like I have missed out a lot. Let me find a book to read. How about this one, this red one in your hand?", he asked.

"Certainly not this one, but I can help you with getting one. Why don't you try this?" She gave him Erich Segal's Love story, her all time favourite.

"But why not that?", the curious man inside him was restless. 

"Someday, you would." And she smiled, one day her dream would turn into reality.

And slowly, they became the best of friends.
____________________________________ 

Seven years later, Aryav sat in his uncle's bookstore with a book in his hand. It was a best-seller. The title was "My Little Red Book" by "Noor Kapoor." He now understood why she didn't let him read that book some years back. He had fallen in love with books and characters. He fell in love with untold stories and unusual sagas. He couldn't thank her enough, for had she not met him that day, he'd never know how precious those stories printed on golden pages are. 

He opened the first-page of her book and saw, "To someone who wanted this to be the first book he reads. I hope he reads it and goes back to our little conversation, down the memory lane."

And he saw someone enter the bookshop. His happiness knew no bounds. It was the best-selling author herself, It was Noor, the girl who opened a world of possibilities, a world of reality, a realm of imagination, a twist of both worlds for him. She was someone he started loving for her little act. No words of his could thank her for how she changed him. He smiled and walked towards her. 

She was living her dream. And he didn't knew that he was a little figment of it, the one she kept inside her. And she walked upto him, to let out her secret, to express her love. And the love which they felt inside was all because of books, those beautiful creatures.

Goodbyes?

Goodbyes, as they're called leave me wondering, always. I often sit back and wonder what is the "Good" part in it. The sadness that takes over you when you bid the so called good-bye to someone or something, that uncanny feeling takes all over us. The light around us vanishes and all we could feel is darkness. The numb feeling freezes all our sensations. There was this quote which often attracted me some years back, "Why is that when we always say goodnight it feels like the final goodbye, like I'd never get to feel the same way ever?"

At times, I just feel like separation with someone or something feels like we were two clocks, we had the same time but the latter was just some seconds behind, we were never in unison. There are those situations when we just have to leave, we don't really have any option left. And often we get replaced. Are we like the worn out socks or the broken glasses that we get replaced. But what about the gap, the hole which is created when such a situation knocks at our doors? Separation often isn't temporary and our soul is the one which has to pay the price.

Goodbyes aren't always bid to people. Often they are but not always. We tend to drift apart from people leaving a track full of regrets which we often walk on, all over again. But what about the silent goodbyes to other things?

The goodbye to those wonderful, dreamy characters when you close a good book. The last look you give to a place where you've lived all your life, the sadness you feel when you're moving out. Saying goodbye to your favourite box of sweets when it finishes. The goodbye you say to a thing you've been attached to. A goodbye to a pet, a goodbye to your favourite pictures just because those memories haunt you or the goodbye to the older versions of people you loved who changed all of a sudden.

Parting is such a sweet sorrow. And probably, the sweet part is often shadowed by the darkness that surrounds us. The emptiness lurking in the chambers deep in our hearts is what kills the good part in a goodbye. Maybe just to give our silly hearts a pinch of hope, it's called a goodbye or else the rhythm of our heartbeats would start playing a sad ballad and we'd find melancholy in everything we do, in everything we feel.

Now I probably know what someone meant, "To say goodbye is to die a little." And a part of us is always stuck with that thing, place or person once you decide to drift apart, once to you say *Good-Bye* to them. Goodbyes do hurt, they hurt every now and then. They might make us stronger but they are what break every piece of us. The memories stay forever, just the time changes. Everything stays the same in our memory, intact

Goodbyes are unavoidable, they are a necessary evil, a parasite that eats up on all the goodness inside and leaves darkness.