Write a diary, record your life.
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A month or two before the year ended, somehow, a diary made its way home. A diary was irresistible as it compelled you to write. A pleasant aroma wafted in the air, the moment you picked it up. The pages were fresh and silken smooth, the kind you wanted to caress repeatedly and rest your cheek against.
Sitting at the desk, with the diary in front and a fountain pen in hand, you felt like an artist pondering over his fresh canvas, about to embark on his masterpiece. The million-dollar question was what to write.
One section in the diary had to be dedicated to “maths sums”. The “interminable transactions between Ram and Shyam” went into this section. Ram had 16 mangoes. If he had to divide them equally between himself and Shyam, how many mangoes will each get? Strangely, copying these “maths sums” in a diary, made even maths look engaging.
From time to time, some advice came your way: “How will you improve your English? You should diligently write down the meanings of all the words that you don’t know, in a diary!” “Gloat”, “Grin”, “stealing a furtive glance”, “wearing a pensive look” — random words and expressions, filled the diary.
Off and on, you required the diary “to vent out your feelings”. On the first day, you wrote, “Today, I am feeling angry.” Once this sentence was written, you hit a writer’s block. What more can you write when you are angry? The next day, you felt the same, but some modification had to be made to avoid repetition. “Today, I am feeling very angry!” Soon, this section resembled the “degrees of comparison” topic in Wren and Martin — angry, angrier, angriest followed by a bout of happy, happier, happiest before slipping again to sad, sadder, saddest.
The most interesting section in the diary was dedicated to cricket. “S.M Gavaskar caught Rixon bowled Thomson.” At the end of the series in Australia, I planned to have a complete analysis on Gavaskar ready — how many runs he scored, where his weakness lay, and how he could improve himself. Sadly, this research stayed in my diary and did not reach the Little Master in time.
The diary was my constant companion through rain and shine. Recently, I chanced upon a diary dating back to my college days. Strangely, it has just one, cryptic entry. It read, “Gulab jamun- Rs. 2.50”! I flipped the pages frantically as to what happened subsequently. The pages were completely empty. I reminisced, “Poor chap! Must have run out of money! Or maybe, the sweet defied further elaboration!” As they say, what is felt by the tongue, can words convey that feeling?
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Published – November 10, 2024 03:13 am IST
