The forgotten diary


Ever since I was a little girl, I kept a diary. Writing in it my day to day joys and sorrows, it kept me going through some tuff times (the adolescent times  as they say). It was my priced possession, something which I cherished. School, college, it covered them all.

But true life starts once you are out in the real world. Facing the big bad wolves all clawing for success in every field. I started my job and slowly my diary lay in my closet, waiting for ink to seep in through its pages soon. I wrote my diary mostly during weekends when I was away from the hassles of work and wanted to vent out my anger against sexism at work place and unfair bosses.

I frequented my diary often when the phase of my marriage came along, as there were so many emotions, so many new characters in my life I had to talk about. So many questions and so many dreams. My diary sure was happy as we had become best friends again. But soon after marriage, once I settled down and work and family took all my time, my diary lay forgotten in my closet, dust accumulating on it, still waiting for me to share again. I feel guilty today as I realised that I had stopped writing. My diary is what made me realise I love to write, that I can express myself on paper than otherwise. Yet, it is forgotten now and I feel ashamed. Its like I forgot a friend who was with me listening to me in every wake of my life.


To all those who keep a journal, DO NOT STOP. It’s a part of who you are. Don’t let it lay forgotten amongst magazines and old newspapers, dusty and frayed. Keep it close to you, cherish it, be regular. There is nothing known as “No time”. You have to make time for everything. Keep your diary alive!


The new girl


She walked inside,
Holding her breathe.
Her face was flushed,
She was avoiding the stares.

With her head down she walked,
She had a feeling she was being mocked.
It was scary.
It was a new world.
The first day at school ,
She thought she would hurl !!

Every one eyed her,
With frequent curious glances .
She sat alone ,
Trying her best to not to look apprehensive .

A tap on her shoulder,
A friendly smile .
Exchange of names ,
And the new girl felt fine .



sick of reality…….


So heres the deal. This real world sucks. It’s my personal opinion. I am not stating it as a fact. I might be wrong. 

Having had two months of experience working in the HR department in an organization made me miss my school days so much that you have no idea. I mean, seriously, I would prefer the school drama anytime over the grown up office drama. 

Every time I was stuck in a situation, I would sail away in my fantasy boat to my dream world. I would think of the strong characters in the books who never gave up. I would think of Scarlett from Gone with the Wind and think, if she could go through every bit of harsh reality, why not me? I know I am being dramatic, but it’s in my nature. I would be reminded of how normal people can excel with great motivation. And I get all my motivation from books, fiction and the fictional characters. 

But that doesn’t stop me from saying that I am sick of reality. I guess this feeling is also a part of growing up.