The Lost Diary

The Lost Diary

It was late into the night. I finished dinner with some of my old friends, I met at the book fair that day and bid them goodbye. The weather was too chill and I was wondering if I should have brought a jerkin. I rubbed my hands and locked my arms to keep myself warm for a while. I walked to the bus stand and settled there hoping a 23C would stop by. There was nobody around except for some crickets chirping and I was getting eerie feelings that somebody was watching me. I ignored it and pulled up a game on my mobile.

A sudden breeze hit me and took my attention to a book lying on the edge of the platform. The wind swiftly turned the pages of the book. I got up and picked the book. I felt a shiver down my spine as I lifted the book. It was a diary, rather an old one - leather bound with “2016” embossed on it. The pages were yellow tinged and wizened. Under the dim streetlight and cloudy moonless night, I wasn’t able to read what’s written in it.

I was interrupted by the blinding headlights of the bus. I looked at the board and fortunately, it was a 23C and I hurriedly closed the diary and got on the bus. The bus was empty except for three people and I took a window seat making sure that I was comfortable. I opened the diary and realised that as I closed the diary in a hurry, I had folded several pages tearing them in the process. I tried to put them in place but they flew out of the window. I flinched and almost would have dropped the diary when the conductor called out for tickets.

I bought my ticket and opened the diary again. The ink had faded on most of the pages and I wasn’t able to make out anything. I scanned through the pages of the diary. Finally, there was visible writing at the end of the diary. The ink was fresh and it was almost like it was written a few hours ago.

The conductor blew the whistle and I got down the bus, realising that I had arrived at my stop. I had carefully closed the diary this time. After getting a lecture from the watchman, he let me inside and I raced to my room. I shoved my bag that had the books I had bought at the fair inside my cupboard. I opened the diary and started reading.

28/02/2021 Life’s full of miracles and surprises. But not at all times, we like it. I remember the first time I met her. She was adorned in a green straight cut salwar. I didn’t have much of a thing for her then. But after then, things changed. The first words she spoke to me – Hey! Can you pass the notebook? The first text I sent her – a Hi! The first time I received a call from her The first place I went out with her – The canteen The first time she held my hand The first birthday gift from her   I remember all of them vividly as if they happened yesterday. Yes, most are insignificant memories. Insignificant memories etched deep inside my heart.   She liked red. So, did I. She loved ice creams except for Butterscotch. So, did I. She liked Ed Sheeran. So, did I. She dislikes Chetan Bhagat. So, I’ve never read his novels. She loves a web series. So, I watch it.   My likes and dislikes. She changed everything.   It took me time to realise that I was into her. I started writing this diary for her, so that her memories would stay with me, forever. I even had a photo album with pictures of all the good times we had together.   Good things don’t last long, do they? I wish I hadn’t told her how I felt. All I could think about was her dreamy expressive black eyes, her captivating radiant smile, her rosy glowing cheeks, her delicate lush hair falling on her shoulders, and finally the strand of hair falling on her face that she brushes aside.   7 billion people and I fell for her. Why her? I have asked myself the same question for years and I do not have an answer yet.  But sometimes, love is just not enough.   I thought I would be able to get over her easily as she did. Reality struck then, if I had to throw her out, I would lose the majority of me. It was hard when you are already in pieces, filled with despair, anger and pain. Pain that only I was doomed to experience. If not for this diary that helped me vent out my emotions, I would have rather lost my mind.   It has been five long years. I met her again today at the book fair. She was draped in an exquisite orange saree with intricate border patterns. She still had her dreamy eyes; her placid smile and her hair was so perfect. She hasn’t changed a bit. She has a boy now who had got her so expressive brown eyes. I watched her from a distance. I couldn’t help it. All these years and nobody has made me feel the same way as she did.   Somehow, she knew that I was there looking over her. She grabbed my hand as I tried to leave. “You will never stop running from me, won’t you?” She asked. My eyes never met hers but she was looking straight at my face. She then said something that I wish I haven’t heard. I stood before her speechless. She handed over a book to me and left with her boy. I looked at the book, a yellow and magenta cover with the words – The Magnolia That Bloomed Unseen.   I still wished that she hadn’t told me that. Life is indeed full of miracles and surprises. But not at all times, we like it.

 

That was the end of the diary. The last page had some blood marks on it at the edge. I searched the other pages for anything. A sudden eerie breeze flew through the window and I sensed an uncomfortable presence in my room. And to my horror, the door’s latch was unfastened and pushed ajar. I was sure that I locked the door after I entered into my room. I then looked at the diary to spot more blood marks.

I rushed out of the room to the backyard and threw the diary into the heap of burning neem leaves. I watched as the diary burnt into ashes. I returned back to my room and bolted the door carefully. I was terrified beyond comprehension. I was breathing heavily and gulped down the water from my bottle on the table. I was still panting.

I let the lights on as I went to bed with my eyes constantly on the door’s latch. It did not move. All I wanted then was to fall asleep. I did not want to know what she told him. Then, Now or After.