She opened a blank notebook and envied the plain clarity of its pristine pages. Untouched by the grime of the world, the pages were ready to embark fresh beginnings in this intellectual world, unlike her. Something was holding Meera back as the notebook felt nervous sensations from her touch. It had been two weeks since Meera opened her favourite notebook to share her view of the world, her observations, her life in a day, etc. Last time, the upwards running sentence formations echoed her excitement about the prom night. And why not? She was visibly excited about her special moments with Mehul. Weeks before she started scouting markets to get that best dress for the evening. She wanted to look her best without any compromise.
Her last sentence was, “I am excited and nervous about spending time with Mehul. I like him a lot, but barely have the courage to share my feelings with him. But this time, I am not going to hold back my emotions and with all the courage, I am going to propose him. Let’s hope the answer is a Yes, because I don’t know what would my life be without him!
For two weeks, the notebook waited for Meera’s touch of excitement. She wanted Meera to share her first date with Mehul, her proposal, her special moments of prom night. For one week, she thought Meera must be busy with her boyfriend over late night Whatsapp chats. It was expected of a girl madly in love to devote her most hours in a day to the boy she loves. But in the middle of the second week, the notebook felt something is wrong with Meera. Obviously, the notebook and Meera have never been separated for more than a week. During her trips, the notebook was her leisure companion. Even during busy days, Meera continued her notebook ritual, even it was for five minutes. Once she opened the pure white pages, nothing could hold her back. It was Meera and her thoughts bleeding on the notebook’s page.
The notebook was curious to know about Meera’s story. Whether it was a YES or NO? Did that guy broke her heart and shattered her life? Or did something really grave happened at the prom night were the ponderings of the diary?
Even 10 minutes later, the notebook didn’t get an answer to all her assumptions. She picked her pen, rousing notebook’s feelings, but couldn’t write even a word. That roused the tensions even more. It felt like as if she held back her bottled-up emotions with her pen and she never wanted to share the hard feelings, even with her soul-mate diary.
Just then, the first drop of tear rolled from her left eye and touched the blank page’s surface, the diary knew Meera was in deep pain. The pain that’s better unsaid and unlived again on the paper. Now she has opened the notebook, but will she ever open up again? ‘This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’