The Secret Diary

When I was a child, my father would always get me to sleep by reciting a story. Some would be funny, some inspirational, and some with not so happy ending. He never told me which storybook he had. This was a ritual that was followed every day. I was very fond of those stories and always got inspired by some or the other hidden messages or morals. On some days he would even repeat some of my favorites. Slowly as time passed by the ritual faded away I don't remember how and why.

As I grew up, in my school library once, I without any intention to read picked up a novel. I started to read it. And eventually got too attached to the story, the characters, the setting, and all other happenings of the book. From then onwards started my reading journey and I read many novels.

Basically, I got very fascinated and fond of tales and stories since very early childhood and till date, I keep looking for them everywhere. On roads, in eyes, and among different art, I try to read them wherever found. I believe there's a history or a message in each one of them. I always try to be a good listener to them and try to decode the understanding and depth of the emotions in those stories

Today after years of reading and listening and experiencing different tales in the form of places, people, and poetries I've realized that our life is itself a storybook. And we write it with the number of memories we make at the places we go, what relations we build with different kinds of people and which poetries get soaked in the heart the deepest. It's in our hands to color the pages with the shades of our choice.

I hope someday when I discuss life and my learnings with papa sitting in the garden full of plants that he has grown over the years I'll recite chapters from my diary and ask him to continue his one which he left years ago.