As it is with old, forgotten diaries, they lie neglected in the bottom drawer forgotten among unnecessary keepsakes, a marble, a Dictaphone, some photographs, a few paper clips, identity cards from college and all things that belong in the past. Then one day I went looking for something important that I didn’t find in its designated place and opened this drawer. The sight of the assorted chaos made me mutter under my breath, “I need to make time to clear this drawer out.”
The important ‘something’ could not be found here either. But while rummaging through the chaos , I thought I spotted something else, something that I used to hold as dear to me once upon a time. It was a simple diary, from the outside, swathed in maroon leather, with the year etched in golden that had faded but still visible. I felt a rush in me and could not stop myself from looking within. I needed to meet ‘me’ once again, from that year. I needed to go deeper into ‘my’ mind and read my thoughts from that year. I started turning the pages, re-reading entries, pausing at scribbles, laughing at follies, doodles, grammar, spellings, sighing with the yellowing pages and looking back at myself, from that year.
Here is me and one of my thoughts from that year :
“Is it always necessary to look back with fondness? Given the amount of time I spend looking back into the past, I’m not sure I have that many fond things to indulge upon. No, not all my memories are fond. Some are dark, depressing, deeply disturbing. One cannot wish them away. Dark, depressing, disturbing memories have a deeper impact on our minds, they get deeply etched. I find that my fond memories have faded, the dark ones have lingered. Small nothings trigger them off, these dark thoughts and I keep drifting with them into an abysmal pool of placid, dark waters.
No, I’m not in a dark mood. Just wistfully lingering over a past that was not quite perfect, that was coloured by the ashes of roses – roseate & gray.
And then I hear the clinking of her soft voice, the whisper of her soft steps that she steals up to me and the rustle of her pretty pink dress. The darkness disintegrates into bright sunlight and I am in the sun, looking up at an autumn sky, crystal clear and blue, the wind rushing through my hair and her laughter filling up my soul. The darker shades of the past have diminished by now, the faded fond memories have returned to faded smiling photographs and I embrace my present, my little sprite, the reason why I am still sane, why I want to believe in rose tints.
Time to watch them, the gray clouds disintegrating, slowly going from flame to a soft blush & colour my mood from gray to crimson.”