Bliss through my diary

July 2009 was the first time when I had started Diary writing. Today when I read the old pages which I had written, it feels...I dont know, a mixed bag of emotions I guess. Life is a roller coaster ride and one feels the highs and lows of the same. When you look back into time, you can judge ,what have you gained or lost or how much mature have you turned. This habit of writing diary is like a leaving footprints on sands of time, testifying how much have you been through. You cannot lie to urself in your own Diary at least. I looked into the mirror again after a long time through my diary and kept smiling throughout the pages :-)

Weekend trips to places around Delhi, Festivals break to meet family, parting with close people and coming together for reunion, spending time with room mate or siblings, bad mood after a quarrel with neighbour, week’s efforts for shopping to attend weddings, jumping red lights and smiling with victory, bugging water problem at home, bunking office, a fractured foot prior to an event, long calls with dear ones, praying for results of a friend, hanging out late night at eating joints and complain of stomach aches next day, failed attempt to prepare new dish in the kitchen, crying in someone else’s pain, watching a favourite movie the Nth time, playing with strays, searching for new jobs… and so on…..

Life has so much to offer and it’s a new experience everyday. Each expression is what we see after how life treats us and vice versa of course. It’s a pure joy and blessing of life.
I am sure there is a never ending list for the above. Feel the joy live life with a smile irrespective of your problems. Problems are just an add-on or lets say a testing pahase. If life gives you many reasons to cry, show life the reasons to smile.

Dedicated to my diary which I confide in always. It has stored precious moments for me tirelessly.

A lost friend

He would have been a grown up man today, probably working in an MNC or running his business. Or may be pursuing some professional course -of his choice, of something which he liked. But what did he like? What was he passionate about? Let me think….uh!! to hard to recollect..it was a long time back that I remember anything apart from his shy smile and dark eyes. And we were too young .  Students of second standard, Prashant and I were classmates and next door neighbours. I was a frequent visitor to his place to catch up on my missed class work or to play with him at times. His younger bro Ankush and a cute sister Gudiya were adorable siblings. Prashant was a quiet child and very shy, to such an extent that he refused to go to anybody’s place for school work or notes. His mom used to call me to their place and that’s how I became a regular visit at Prashant Singhal’s place. We became best childhood buddies , used to play often and do our home work together.

Singhals were a happy family. A happy go lucky family of our neighbourhood, as a child I had always seen them smiling and enjoying each moment of their lives till that unlucky day. I still don’t remember  the date..after all I was young. So was Prashant. I have the faded picture of his in my mind when I had saw him last evening. Well, actually the last evening of his life.

He loved cycling. That evening too, he went on his bicycle to enjoy the evening. (I think now I recollect one of his hobbies-Cycling. But how irrelevant is it now, I suppose). His grand mom felt quite restless when he did not return till late. His mom went crying to the police station with his dad to report Prashant’s missing from the place where he had gone cycling. The whole night saw a tensed Singhal family, probably for the first time. I remember my mom worrying about him and peeping into the Singhal house every fifteen minutes. Prashant’s father was frantically wandering on the streets with his scooter to search for his eldest son. It was a terrible night for everybody.

And the news arrived, the next morning..of what I guess most of them had anticipated. Prashant’s body was fished out from the manhole right outside the construction site of their new house. Time of death- late evening.Last remains- his slipper in the right foot and his cycle outside the house. What pushed him to his death was the reason that he was not accompanied by anybody to the construction site where the open manhole invited his death while he was jumping over it, all by himself. Days passed mourning and wailing in the Singhal house grieving over the irreparable loss of the eldest son of the family.

Soon, things started turning normal and Prashant started fading from the memories of everybody. Yesterday when I was talking to my brother Tarun (catch him at tarunisblogging.blogspot.com) he sounded upset. He too was grieving over the loss of his facebook friend whom he had befriended three days ago. Consoling him, suddenly Prashant’s thought struck me. Had he been alive, he would have been somebody like me.

I can’t say I miss Prashant, however I do feel that every human life is meant for something, lives for a purpose and creates a void after he leaves. I was too young to feel that void, but I do feel bad that he left the world much before he could see anything.

God bless your soul my friend.

This was an ode to Prashant Singhal.