Memoirs's Diary

I was a boy of 10 years old only when my father finally accepted the transfer proposal which he had rejected a few times. Unaware of the mysteries a new place unveils, we moved to Gaya which is a known place, for it is considered the Mecca of Buddhism. After settling down in the town for a few months I was admitted to a school that was in our neighbourhood. It took ten minutes to stroll to my new school from my rented dwelling.

I still remember the name of that school but I don't feel it is necessary to mention the name here as the school is not something which I want to discuss today.

Thin lips, heart-shaped face, straight long nose, big frank eyes flavoured with fair complexion made me look cute and attractive. I still hold the same charm and attractiveness even after spending 35 years on the planet. However, the cuteness evaporated by the battering of the throat-cutting-pacy-life and the extreme-struggle-for-livelihood. I was athletic, tall and energetic which made me popular in my school before I could know.

Students from my class, students who were junior to me and even students who were senior to me tried every possible trick to befriend me. I would not boast that I had acquired the same reputation among girls as Casanova did, but if I say that I was the face every girl's eyes looked for, it wouldn't be an exaggeration. There were these two beautiful faces that caught my heart. First, Latika who was my classmate and second, Prabha who was more than senior to me. I mean I studied in 4th grade and she was in 9th grade.

I would not call it a triangular love story but it still holds every fascinating scenes and adventure which transforms an ordinary infatuation into an extraordinary love story. Latika wore a round face added with deep-brown-eyes and thin lips. Her skin colour was a mix of milk chocolate and strawberry. Bowl-cut -brown-hair with a few tendrils straying on her forehead gave her looks of a barbie doll. She was not as intelligent as she looked.

After we became friends she revealed her heart me and said: " I want to be a singer.”

If my dad would not have forced me to study every day, I wouldn't have looked once at my books. You know Niru, As soon as I start reading a book I lose interest, I start yawning and finally, I fall asleep. This makes my dad furious. He scolds me and punishes me, and even after all these I couldn't develop the love for study and books.

”Don't worry, I will help you out with your studies and in return, you can help me learn singing. I am an awkward singer.” I smirked.

To be continued...

Memories make you believe that you exist. Have you ever thought of a world without memories? I have, and I found that a mind without memories will be as stale as a year old dead body of a beast, left open for vultures' feast. It is obvious that one is haunted by the painful memories of the past, hence, often people try to forget past memories which makes them sad or uncomfortable. I mean haunting events of the past makes you uncomfortable and weak but believe me it is almost impossible to forget memories of the past, especially the bitter ones.

I have seen numerous people toiling their days and spoiling their nights trying to escape from bitter memories. As far as I believe, Memories can't be qualified as bitter, painful, inspiring or motivational. Memories are memories, with no colour and taste, like water. If you don't believe this, tell me what would one do when one needs to motivate oneself while in solitude? When you were alone and left with no cure for the alleviation of your sorrows and mournings, what did you do to motivate yourself? If I am not mistaken, you rummaged through your lost memories and pressed hard to come up with something from your past which helped you feel better.

Cherished memories of the past, memories that have images of the wonderful moments you spent with friends, family and colleagues, always ignite positive energy. The positive energy that comes out from you, travels as far as it can, to find the like positive energy. When it finds the like energy, it brings all like positive energies back to you. And you are revitalized!

Sitting in the dark corner of your living room, looking for a memory to buzz in your mind, thus trying to realise your existence. When you lose hope and feel weak a past event where you were battered by difficult circumstances and situations can uplift your morale and motivate you to move on. Bad memories can sometimes recuperate wounds of the present. You feel alive by realising that you gazed into the eyes of the melancholic situation of the past, and you successfully defeated the pain and triumphed.

Being alive is not a biological process which consists of breathing in and breathing out only. Breathing phenomenon is just a small part. Life, soul and existence are way beyond the petty process of breathing in and breathing out. It's above and away from the biological and anatomical scientific chaos that our body goes through every day. We fool ourselves by believing that the goal of our life is to keep our body healthy and fit by providing essentials which can keep it fit and healthy. We forget that a sick soul can't heal even if we provide healthy and nutritious essentials to our body. Regular exercise and yoga align your body and mind properly but it can't heal your soul. Only a cautious effort of self-realisation can strengthen the soul. Aligning yourself with the omnipotent is the only known process to cure and heal a soul. Hence, the journey of self-realisation will make your dream come true. Unless you have a healthy soul you can't exist and until you exist you are not alive, even though you breathe, you eat and you drink.

When I thought to begin writing I was left aghast, for I was short of words. I never found writing easy but I wrote thousands of pages in Hindi. Yes, Hindi was the language which I used until now. Switching to English is not easy but I am committed to honing my English writing skills. These are my first words and I am still searching for a beginning for my Diary. It's not as if I don't have anything to write. I have a lot to write about. I have been through many stories and I have encountered every possible situation in my life itself. Where to begin is a process, I am looking for. Should I start with my present hour or shall I reveal my past? It seems easy to find an answer to the aforesaid question, as it may appear easier for the reader. However, if you ask me to answer, I would say I don't face easy questions often. Fortunately,
Life has been putting the most difficult questions before me for as long as I can remember. I used, fortunately, to qualify my difficult encounters with life, for it healed my weaknesses. However, it made me kneel down against the easiest questions thrown at me. Strange, but true. Let's begin with riddles. We shall move on to the apple-pies later on.