Because incomplete love stories are hard to forget.
Just as I flip over to another page, a barrage of mails floods my inbox. Work. I close the diary, put it back in my drawer and get to work.
After about 4 hours of back breaking I am done for the day. I lean back into my chair and stretch my hands and legs. Just then, Naira calls and it brings an instant smile to my face, like a small kid’s eyes light up outside a candy shop.
Five years and nothing has changed. She still makes me the happiest I can ever be. She still makes my world go round.
“Mendhak ?!!” she asks.
“Yes, Sherni. What’s up ?!!” I ask.
“Umm, nothing really. Are you okay ?!! Have you eaten ?!!” she asks.
She has reasons to be concerned. I have been acting a little strange since the blast.
“Yes, yes,” I answer to both of her questions.
“Are you working ?!!” She further asks.
“Yes.” I answer again.
“Okay. See you in the evening then,” she says.
“Wait, Naira. Tell me something – if you find a personal diary on the road, will you read it ?!!” I ask.
“I will not,” she says. She is almost instantly pissed off.
“There is a reason why it is personal.” She says almost irritated.
“And what if the person is dead ?!!” I ask.
“What ?!!” she says. There is some noise in the background.
“Listen, Karthik, I need to go. Can we talk about it when I get home ?!!” she asks sweetly.
“Sure,” I say and disconnect the call.
I feel traumatized, disturbed. This could be the diary of a dead man. His last written words could be in my hands. It might have things that he had wanted to tell his friends, girlfriends, family and might have never said before. That’s too much pressure. I’m a little scared now of what’s to come.
I try and put myself in his place. If I were to write everything I feel about everyone in a diary and die, would I like my diary to be read ?!!
Yes, I Would.
I would like my last words to reach the people I love. They have a right to know what they meant to me. I wouldn’t miss any chance to tell Naira that I love her. Or my parents. Even Naksh, for that matter.
I get back to work. Naksh has not come back from his meeting with “somebody from the Times” yet.
Five hours have passed by and it’s already six in the evening. I leave the office and look for an auto. I have the diary with me. I cannot wait to get back to it. I sit in the auto and open the diary, even when a part of me doesn’t want to.
I know it will take me just an hour to finish the full diary and I don’t want it to end so soon. But the curiosity is killing me. I open it and start reading slowly.
25 August 2015
A whiff of her perfume, a tiny chirp from her sweet lips and just one look from those almond-shaped eyes make my day. I need nothing else.
I tried to stand really close to her at the bus stop today. She was alone. I wanted to talk to her, but didn’t know what to say.
She looked beautiful and I stood there staring at her. The sun reflected off her glazing long black hair.
I followed her into her bus. People around me saw me stare at her. I didn’t care. I got down where she got down.
It was pretty far away from my place, but I couldn’t care less. I walked behind her till she entered the gate of a building. Parkside Apartments.
I walked back to the nearest bus stop and caught the next bus home.
I wish to see her again tomorrow.
I google Parkside Apartments on my phone. Nothing substantial comes out. They have apartments of that name all across the country. In at least fifty cities.
I shut the diary. I still don’t know which city this guy lived in. I get restless.
The auto drops me off at my place and I can’t wait for night to fall so I can read the rest of the diary. It’s too early to tell Naira anything about it. I don’t want to come across as a freak and I am a little scared how she will react to me reading someone else’s diary.
Naira is sleeping. This night is slightly better than the past ones. I am in the balcony again, staring at wide open spaces. I clutch the diary.
I am torn. Stories excite me, but stories that end too soon sadden me. I don’t want this to end. The diary I hold in my hand has a story with a lot of value to me. The guy who wrote this diary is dead. I could have been that guy. If I had written a diary and died in
that blast, someone else would be reading it. Maybe him. And it would have killed me had he not read it.
My last chance of reaching out to my loved ones would have gone waste. So, in a twisted manner, that guy and I are connected. I am the last person to read what he last
wrote. I am probably the only person who will ever read this diary. It’s a huge responsibility.
I have survived and he has not. But he lives through the diary I hold. He lives through what he tells me in this diary.
Yes, we all snatch the personal diaries of our friends and browse through them, but this is different. This diary has the last words of a dead man. I open it again with trembling hands.
7 September 2015
I don’t think colours and hues make her look beautiful. It’s the other way around.
I think she noticed me stare at her today. I had waited for her bus to stop outside our college. She wore green and fuchsia pink and looked resplendent. She has made quite a few guy friends and I am jealous. While they sit near her, smile and laugh with her,
all I can do is sit at a distance, alone, and stare at her.
Today, I sat on a bench right next to her. Her voice is sweet. Like little birds chirping on a bright Sunday morning. Her shining eyes and honey-sweet voice are like windows to her pure, clean soul.
Maybe I will talk to her tomorrow. Maybe she will chirp for me. Only for me.
I can’t get my mind off her. Her face, her simplicity, her voice, her slender fingers, I just can’t stop thinking about her. It’s like I am possessed. I am hers.
I wonder what she is doing now. Did she really catch me staring at her ?!! Does she know I exist ?!!
I wish to see her again tomorrow.
I finish reading the diary when it’s one in the night. I am wide awake and I notice that I have put bookmarks in a million different places. I can’t put in words how I feel about it.
As I read the diary, it was as if I was the dead guy and Anushka was Naira. It seemed like my diary and my story. I am enraged that I didn’t get to tell the girl I loved the most that I loved her and now I am dead.
It’s frustrating and I am exasperated. It’s like a novel with no end. Or a movie without the climax scene.
And it’s just grossly unfair. It feels like my own story has come to an abrupt end. I have read the full diary, but still found no addresses, no numbers and no clues for me to know who the guy was. It’s infinitely irritating.
I just have to know who he is and I will do anything for that.
It’s my only chance at redemption, the only chance of helping one of the many people who died that morning. It’s my only chance to make those images in my head go away forever. I will not let this go.
I will find an end to this diary. I have to.
I start reading the diary again—from start to finish—with higher concentration this time round. I don’t want to miss a single thing.
This time, I start taking notes to find out who the guy was. Within an hour, I have finished reading it again. Still I don’t have a clue.
Precap : Karthik getting more involved. Naksh’s Date. Kaira attending a party.
Hello peeps. So how was your Sunday ?!!
Since I have returned to TU, I have almost talked about everything except for Yrkkh’s ongoing track. Well I was not active here but I did watch all the episodes. I liked Naira’s Dance academy track the most though Dadi’s tantrums were sometimes very idiotic and unbearable.
Also the track starting from Monday will be the start of Keesh’s love track as dadi would be forcing keerti to get married soon. Cant wait for it. The pair is really lovely and they look really cute onscreen. I am excited to see how they would fall in love as both of them have had a troubled past which is hard to forget. Cant wait for it.
Ps :- The Indian women’s cricket team did win against Pakistan by a huge margin. So proud of the girls. Hope they bring the world cup home. Fingers Crossed.
Do comment. Keep smiling. Keep watching Yrkkh !!