As I look at the boxes surrounding me I feel a tug of nostalgia. I remember all the years gone by in this beautiful house. This was the house I grew up in; the house I have lived in all my life. The house I now have to give up because I’m now someone’s wife. It feels unfair but I know it’s time to move on.
That’s when it catches my eye, the dusty shoe box under the bed that hasn’t been opened in years. I reach for it and sneeze as a billow of dust rushes up to greet me. My secret treasure chest, hidden away, forgotten since my teenage years. Inside it there are a few faded photographs of friends, now far away, and some trinkets which were exchanged with vows to never forget each other, and my old journal. I had forgotten all about it. I hadn’t written a journal in years. I know I shouldn’t waste time going through its yellowing pages but I can’t resist reading about the person I was a long time ago.
Today is my birthday. I turn 14 today. Ma let me wear my new watch to school. I just love it! After school I went for a movie with my friends and then we all came home for a small party. I’m so happy! I love my mom! And dad too of course :)
I smile and turn the pages, reading on.
I don’t know what to do. This boy in my class asked me to go for a movie but I said no. I’m too scared to say yes. Maybe I will ask Sheetal to come along with someone she likes so we can go as a group. I hope that will be ok. I wonder why he was so insistent on going for a movie. It isn’t even a really good movie but he really wants to see it. Boys can be so weird …
I can’t help but laugh at my naïveté. I remember the double date that followed and how “the boy” was quite upset that things didn’t go as planned. I skip a few more pages and read on.
I cannot cry. I want to but I feel nothing. I came back from school today and Rashmi Masi was here crying her eyes out. Mom and Dad are in the hospital. There was a car accident when they were leaving for work this morning and now Masi says they’re never coming back. How is that possible? I don’t know what is happening.
I close the journal and put it away. I know there is nothing more to read. The years that followed are still too painful for me. Living alone on a trust fund with a court appointed guardian for the last thirteen years made it all too real. I stopped writing because there was nothing to write about. I look around and start packing again.
It’s finally time to move on.
1 comment:
Hi ,
I was reading ur blog posts and found some of them to be very good.. u write well.. Why don't you popularize it more.. ur posts on ur blog ‘Just a Few Grains of Sand’ and others took my particular attention as some of them are interesting topics of mine too;
BTW I help out some ex-IIMA guys who with another batch mate run www.rambhai.com where you can post links to your most loved blog-posts. Rambhai was the chaiwala at IIMA and it is a site where users can themselves share links to blog posts etc and other can find and vote on them. The best make it to the homepage!
This way you can reach out to rambhai readers some of whom could become your ardent fans.. who knows.. :)
Cheers,
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