I grew up writing diaries. I used to write about my day-to-day affair at such length that it used to look like someone’s autobiography. I wanted it to be one. Thinking, one day when I become famous, the world would want to know about me. I made sure that I write in nice clean handwriting, so that everyone understood it. I used to pour down my deepest thoughts and secrets without a clue that those entries would find two readers soon- my younger siblings! I came to know about it when, over a fight, they threatened to tell Maa about the love confessions that I had written.
I was a study table person. I used to keep all my important things on my table or in the book shelf. Now the book shelf was open to all, and I had neither my own room nor my own wardrobe. I always had to share it with my siblings. So, the safest place was my table. It was a brown table with its top surface bearing marks of my scribblings and doodlings. It had a drawer without a lock. I never felt the need for one, as I assumed my order to not to touch my stuff was enough to keep my siblings in check. So, when the security got compromised, I felt violated and helpless. I knew I couldn’t make them unread whatever they had read. So, I begged for a new study table with a lock, which would keep my secrets safe. My parents never listened to me. Refusing to give up, I made a plan to take revenge. I tried to find out my siblings’ secrets. But they had new stylish tables with lock system. My sister carried her keys wherever she went, and my brother was too young to have any secrets. So, it was a dead end.
I had forgotten about my intention to take revenge until I unintentionally did. I found a beautiful pair of white heels my brother had secretly bought to give his girlfriend. It was smartly hidden in our shoe shelf, and I accidentally found it. I didn’t tell maa, because I wanted to wear it myself. He didn’t give it to anyone for a long time. It was a torture for me to see the heels sitting there on the shelf new and unused. When I asked again, he said I can take it. It was years later that he disclosed the full story behind the white heels. Once, I came across a love letter tucked inside in one of his books. I clicked a photo of the letter and teased him to post it online. Of course I didn’t plan to, but he really thought I would. But, I did read it aloud to my mother, and we both had a good laugh. I still have the photo in my gmail account.
I returned the favour to my sister as well. Once when my mother asked me to clean her table, I went through all her stuff. I found a small teddy bear with a box in one of her drawers. It had a tiny ring. I knew it was given by her then boyfriend. I kept dropping hints till she knew what I had found. My sister and I got our first cellphone very early in life. I am not a tech savvy person, but she is. When I was still learning about my phone’s settings and all, her’s used to be password protected. Out of curiosity I picked it up when she left it unguard on her bed one day. I read the conversation with her boyfriend and found out a lot of things. I teased her for months.
I lost my habit of diary writing, but in return got so many beautiful memories. Does life have a funny way of making up, of filling the gaps, of forming a full circle or do we have a way of looking at the brighter side restrospectively?