I reached out for a pen and
paper. It was my New Year’s resolution to pen down my every day’s experience.
Please note that it’s not just for the sake of recording the happenings. The
aim was simple, realistic, and apprised by my beloved teacher. It’d be optative
to call ‘AIMS’ rather than a mere ‘AIM’. They were – one, to make myself fluent
in the language (I swear, I didn’t know what level of fluency he meant
anyway), two, to make myself know where I stand every day (I never even
had the slightest idea of where I stand in my life. I never wanted to, in the
first place), and three, to improve my hand writing (‘Are you serious?’
That was my instant thought when I heard him saying this).
As you might be aware of any kid
who is hopeless, lackluster, and carefree would do, I did nothing. The problem
was that he never saw me as a kid who was in the bounds of the previously
mentioned adjectives. And that was the only reason why he, of the several
others, became my beloved, my only beloved. But, regrettably, that
didn’t save me from lying to him often. I don’t know if at all he knows that,
but whatsoever, he never left a hint. I was safe. I mean, I felt safe, though I
always knew that I was safe with him.
It’s been several months since he
asked me to do the writing stuff. I never did that till date. What I wonder the
most is, he never got tired of asking me about how it’s coming along, every day
– save the days when I didn’t meet him at all. Unsurprisingly, I too never got
tired of saying the same words to him – “Great! I can see the progress
myself.” He merely smiled and patted my shoulders. I never understood the
real meaning of that smile and the pat. All I assumed was I was good at lying,
and there was someone out believing that.
At times, he used to ask me to
show my scribbling (yes, he always referred my writing as scribbling. He
was trying to be funny, you know. Nevertheless, my academic writing was itself
a scrawl anyway). I’d blatantly reply, “Sir, it is personal.” And
guess what, I’d always get to see his smile and feel his pat. In a way, I liked
them. I liked to lie to him and enjoy the response.
On the first day of this year, as
I was still asleep, he came down to my home. My mom had to wake me up to greet
him. It was 9:30 A.M. already. I wasn’t sure that it was the question in my
mind that he read or it was the usual habit of his to explain things, but he
told us that he was crossing my home then, and thought he should come by and
wish me. By the way, the question in my mind was, “What the heck is he doing
in my home at this point of time?” I was a dumbass, you see. Before he
left, he gifted me a pen (the one that I’m holding in my hand now) and
wished me luck. My parents were lame. Yes, they were, as anyone in their
position would have been. I wasn’t for I knew he came purposefully; just to
gift me the pen. Otherwise who would walk somewhere with a pen gift-wrapped in
his pocket.
That was when I decided to take
this New Year’s resolution – to scribble (in his words) or to write (in
my assumption) my every day’s experience. I went back to my room, took out the
diary that I had got from my dad the previous night, sat in the table, and
scrawled ‘Jan 01, 2001’. Before I could round off what to start with, my Mom
called for me from the kitchen. She was howling to get me brush my teeth and
have my breakfast as it was already late. Taking shower was out of question
as she knows that if that was included, I’d only have my breakfast at lunch
time. She became so adjustable with me, you know. I love her for that and
for every other reason regardless. That was it. That diary only has the date
scribbled by me yet.
Today, the calendar in my room
shows the date as Jan 06, 2001; but that’s not today’s date in real. Lucky, at
least I was sane enough to know that it’s not. Blame it on my laziness – the
laziness to tear off the paper every day. Having said that, I don’t exactly
know what date today is. Maybe, 16 or 17; well, probably, 16th of January. I have to go to the other room to check for it.
Hell, forget it. Who cares? In fact, that’s the least important of all. On this
day of the year, I don’t own a cell phone to check the date and time in a split
second. I haven’t even held one in my hand yet, let alone owning one. None of
my family members own a cell phone – which I hear is tardily becoming a
sensation, at least among the younger generations – in any case.
Okay, what’s with me now? No
answer. A Blunt mind, which is all it is. It’s been fifteen days into the year
with my doing nothing to be proud of, an absolute nothing. Not even able to be
true to my beloved teacher; worse, not even able to be true to myself.
Okay, again. That’s not the real
reason that made me to sit straight up here from my bed to pen down my first
diary page (not precisely in a diary though. Who knows, probably I’d paste
this paper in my diary later). It’s the dream I had. The dream of my
beloved teacher meeting an accident, that really is. And he, lying in his
deathbed, was asking me about my scribbling. Heck. I was so bad at lying in my
dream. But still, he smiled and patted my shoulders before he closed his eyes.
Why did I get this dream all of a
sudden? That’s the life, can I answer to myself? Life treats me badly, I
feel sometimes. Whenever I feel it, what I fail to do is to treat life
differently, as in brazenly different. Things change, after all; in an
unexpected and undesirable way, mostly. But when and how are the questions.
They can’t be answered precisely. We only have to experience them as and when
they come along – just like the way I’m doing for a while now...!
