Tuesday, December 06, 2011

Diary

As the numbness of winter slowly disappears ceding its place to a readily perceptible warmth in the air, her heart fills with hope for a change with a change of seasons.
The woolen clothes and soft comforters are packed off neatly in bags and stacked away in that corner of the wardrobe farthest from one's reach, waiting to be brought out again next year. Lush green leaflets sprout from branches that previously appeared dead, heralding the advent of another spring.
But to her dismay, the yellowish food stains keep making appearances on her little girl's uniform on alternate school days. The neighbor utters almost the same string of profanities every time his dog relieves itself on one of his favorite potted plants. The same old faces in her neighborhood are seen walking across the street from her balcony, going back and forth from work.
In the end everything remains the same under the guise of a change, she muses. Or perhaps everything changes while giving off an illusion of permanence. She does not feel sure about either theory.

But then why does she still feel as nauseous as she had felt the first time she caught a whiff of the unfamiliar scent of shampoo emanating from her husband's scalp? The sweet, flowery fragrance still makes her stomach churn violently.
The way he offers half-baked and vague responses to her queries, does not change either.
Weary of waiting for changes that never materialize she has sought solace in something else.
On those sombre nights he does not return home on the pretext of work and her chest feels all constricted, she lets her pen move freely on the pages of a diary she keeps skillfully hidden from everyone else.



Under the dim light of the lampshade in the living room, she writes away all that she can never say out aloud or let show. She writes all that she longs for but cannot have. She writes about all the tears she refuses to cry in fear of never being able to stop.
And somewhere deep down she wills herself to believe that she, too, has the right to break away, to change, to dream, to forsake that which has already withered away like dry leaves in autumn. And to begin anew.
But she knows she can't. At least not tonight, when her little girl is sleeping with such a peaceful expression on her face, perhaps lost blissfully in the land of beautiful princesses and giant chocolate ice-cream cones.
For now, she is more than willing to give up her own dreams in exchange for hers to come true.
And so she keeps on writing.

___
Image courtesy :oxfordmedic.blog.com


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23 comments:

D2 said...

She writes to give her comfort. She writes to stopper her tears. But no matter, she remains in pain.
For some reason, I hate the idea of writing in a diary as much as I like it sometimes.
Beautifully written. :)

Anish said...

Sad and poignant.There's a deep sense of hopelessness about it yet a feeble ray of hope lingers.Very well-written.

P.S:Giant chocolate ice cream cones for the win! xD

Purba said...

Imagine living such a life? Bereft of joy...hope

And you brought out her sense of helplessness so beautifully.

Brilliant as always!

Alka Gurha said...

Brilliant with a big B...Almost poetic.
I could so identify with the little girl....for I write for the same reasons.Muah...to u for this one.

alka narula said...

very poetically written,enjoyed readin ur post

Prateek said...

Protagonist seems to be happily sad. In her own world of dismay, without complaints. Regrets surrounds her but instead she writes them down.
Sigh. Reminded me of someone.
Also, welcome back. :)

VeeKay said...

A perfect page for a diary.. I like the write up for its level of abstraction of details.. Instead of explaining the whole life story of that woman, the reason for the differences with her husband, her trauma and other happenings in detail, you've left out most of the part as a mystery to the reader and projected only the feeling of the woman being sad with as few words as possible.. Typically how a single page in diary ought to be..Nice :)

Nethra said...

Diaries can be such friends. I don't keep a diary but I have experienced the relief that one experiences after blurting out on a piece of paper.

Women compromise most of the times; willingly or not.

Rahul Bhatia said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
DEEPRAJ JHA said...

that was finished in a fashion...
www.jhadeeprajjha.blogspot.com

Harika said...

Your way of expressing helplessness is excellent.

Rahul Bhatia said...

So good to see a brilliant post from you after a wait! Well, there is always a silver lining in the darkest cloud!

Giribala said...

Nice!! Made me sad.....

Megha Sarin said...

WOW. Very well written.

Protagonist is deeply disturbed and immersed in thoughts. Mind is not at peace but has embraced darkness and longs to be happy :)

Your new follower :)

Love
http://www.meghasarin.blogspot.com

Anonymous said...

Y u make me cry with such posts T.T
*goes back to Kimi ga kurete mono*

☆ ayu☆ said...

this is nice..i also write in my diary whenever there are things i need to write down or less i'll just suffer from thinking and thinking it over again..while crying..

writing in a diary really helps..

RE: precise in terms of?

☆ ayu☆ said...

halo~ Merry Christmas! you are tagged!

♪♪Happy Go Lucky♪♪ said...

So beautiful. And yet, so sad.

I love the way you write!
I can't stop reading this over and over again.

Ankur Anand said...

Nicely crafted the whole .. :)

atindriyo said...

twilight reminds me of Charlie Chaplin. I can feel these words

gcaffe.com said...

writing a diary is too emotional a thing. many can't afford. those who do, they create a treasure.

Quintessence Of Illusion said...

Beautifully lyrical....sometimes sadness becomes so beautiful

Makk said...

Sad that she just writes and could not go ahead say it out loud for her rights.

I hope to see more challenging figures in your writings.

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