From the diaries...

In sixth grade, we had a chapter that included extracts from the diary of the author. While introducing  the chapter, the teacher asked us "Who writes a diary?" and my hand shot straight up. She made me stand up and tell the class about my diary- Since when do I write one? What do I write? Do I write regularly? Do I share what I’ve written with anyone...and stuff like that.

Well, my answers were to the point. I have been writing a diary since first grade and then, I used to write about what happened everyday. I used to make a fuss of keeping it a secret and I remember wanting nothing more than a diary with a lock for some time...I did get the dairy and I’ve still kept it.

I remember going to Venus (that’s the name of a really really cool stationery franchise) every year on the 31st of December to buy a diary and some coloured papers and 3-D outliners to decorate it. And I still go buy a diary every new year. But, last year, I bought a couple of 360 pages notebooks...really nice notebooks instead and decided to write in them. 

Now turning 15 and being in 10th grade does funny things to you. For starters, diary isn’t the word you’d want to use anymore. Journal is. But I didn’t care much so much about what my notebook was to be called as long as I could write whatever I want in it. Also, I didn’t want my writing to be secret. In fact, I wanted people to read it (and I still do). I took it to school one day, not with an intention to show it to people but to complete a few entries. 

My friend was sitting next to me and she started reading it. I was very happy to find out that she wanted to read more of my journal and that she found it interesting. I let her and a few others read. Of course, not everyone found it interesting but most did and that motivated me to work harder on writing. A few days ago, when my first term exams got over,  I cleaned my room, putting away the term 1 books and worksheets, arranging books and I saw my old diaries...about 5 or 6 of them and began to read. 

"I was so naive", I thought to myself after reading some of the entries though I’m sure I’m going to say the same thing when I read my recent writings a few years later. But some entries, I really liked and I couldn’t believe that little me had written it. Nevertheless, I had fun and although I had written my 'deepest darkest' secrets in the diaries then, they seem funny now and I don’t mind sharing them.

I decided to go through my diaries of 2015 and 2016 and see if I could find anything worth putting on my blog and I did. Yay! So I picked up from my diaries, little epiphanies, extempore poems and sometimes stories, loads of terribly tiny tales and well just little write ups. Here are eleven of those...

The sun shining bright

On a cold summer day

Bouncing off the snow

All along the way

With death waiting 

Forth the open door,

For you to step inside.

With life waiting behind

The closed door

For you to step inside.

Wearing a necklace of tears

On a string of smiles.


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She closed her eyes
He smiled.
She opened her eyes
And the smile was
Just a memory.


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Not the grave but the sky,
Not to die my friend, But to fly


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I look at you
And you look back
You’re so far...
But I’ll burn if I come close



Dear Star


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You wield your sword,
I’ll wield my pen
Red my ink will become,
I hope you’ll understand then.


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People will never forgive you for something you did.
They won’t forgive you for not forgiving them for the same mistake they didn’t forgive you for.


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I look back upon life.
I wish I hadn’t made the mistakes I did.
But I know I need the lessons I learnt.


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To choose between him and her daughter was to choose one of her wings.
But sadly, she needed both to fly.


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Strangers they were.
Started building a card castle together.
Were almost at the last layer.
Blew a wind, the castle fell
But with the fall, stood something that’d never break.
Friendship it was
That’d never break.


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With dawn she rose
And dusk she faded
With love she was born
With hatred she met death.

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 The most subtle things in this world are, in my opinion
Subtleties.


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