Episode 1. Dear Diary

Coming back home locked the door I let silence take its place for peace. Feeling a deep emptiness inside, don’t know after what my mind is. I cannot think a single thing. I mean one single thing at a time. Fluctuated emotions! This brain is constantly receiving information and is not processing for further.

I forget things easily. Forget feelings whatever it is wonderful or worst. I cannot feel anything deeply. Before I get into one thing, another situation arises and distracts me.

I cann't decide what really I feel, spend most of the time in thoughts, think more and feel less, maybe.

I should inform that secretly I am a different person. A person who ever not recognized even by himself. Maybe no one would be happy meeting my true self. So you can ask, am I a good person or bad?

Being me, am I happy or sad?

Is life really worth living? Or the earth a fallen place for sinister?

This thought drags to think both more relevant and irrelevant questions.

Religious belief, Myth, human evolution, and all… I found nowhere the essence of life. So maybe I’m looking for the source of life.

No, not in a way that scientists or researchers or the sadhus do.

Soul is a light, they say, and I doubt. Spirituality is hidden inside. There is a light, as it is said, again it’s a secret! But something secret should be hidden in the darkness. If there is any light, I want to see it.

Again I think, am I real or a dream of a lazy all day drowse someone? Someone who is wondering, creating, smashing and discovering places, characters and situations. Whole my existence is just dream!

I am unborn. I never was fallen.

In His dream I am alive, so maybe I sleep so that He’s awake!

What if I stop sleeping, what if he never wakes up again?

If the dreamer dies, I will die too. Maybe this is how people die…

Knock on the door. It’s Maria!

`Yes?’

`Can you please open the door?’

‘Is there anything serious? Do you need something?’ she should not have but she says ‘YES’

‘I am busy. Please don’t interrupt.’

And knock again.

Nothing can distract such a way Maira does. She is the elder most but behaves so childish, is always there to ruin concentration. Keeps calling for nothing, nagging for gossip or playing ludo, no one else can understand if he or she doesn’t have a sister like her. Don’t know why all of my cousins, the number is approximately 35, are just crazy about her. No doubt she is caring, charming and beautiful. Sometimes even I can’t take my eyes off her. Surely, I am not that kind of person who is fascinated with earthy beauty. But off course, a distraction she must be.

She will never understand if I have loads of homework, or anything important to do. But if the result ever falls, she’d be the one to scold me in the first place. There must be an unconditional dysfunction in her brain.

Again and again

‘What?’ I am sure she has nothing to say serious.

‘Why you have to lock your door every time?’

‘Because I and busy and I don’t want to be disturbed.’

‘What were you doing?’

‘Do you need something?’

‘Yes, I’ve got few newly release movies in my pen drive and I am making wages. You can join us.’

‘Us mean?’

‘Sofie’s at home sweetie.’

‘Aw, sweetie is something said to the girls so you should focus on your word selection and all I can say to both of you is to ‘Enjoy’. And please don’t knock for a while. I am really busy.’

Well and enough said. Now I may shut the door.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Thank God, I’ve got my headphone very supportive in these situations.

Well, I think, I too have a dysfunctional braining process. May be all of my family member, or all around the world is facing the same condition. Everyone has an empty space in there head which is always in search of something unknown.

Maria does not only make distraction to my action. Sofie also suffers Maria’s craziness. But in her diary she wrote nothing about this. She always wanted to write. When she was 11, dream of being a writer was the only thought in her mind. I can remember the whole. There were the days. Staring at the sky, looking at the stars, she felt lost somewhere else. Felt like she belonged to somewhere else, anywhere else but not there.

Then I was 10. Reading someone’s personal diary is unethical, I knew but the way she wrote, I could not stop reading the whole. So many times I thought to confess this to her! I definitely shouldn’t have done this.

She wrote in her diary that she was unfit to everything as Maria used to say the time they fought with words. Maria did not let Sofie go anywhere far nor permitted her things her classmates were easily allowed to do. Sofie just had permission to go outside to work and study. Work, for she needed lots of money to study and it might not be a burden to the family.

So she was used to woke up early in the morning, prepared herself for another busy day. Had to rush to the office at 6.30 am and then attending classes, exams and then again in the office, finally had to get into a local bus before 10pm. For our landlord lock the main door at sharp 11pm, we all must be home on time.

What a kid Sofie Mirza wrote maybe was not something meaningful to most of the persons. But her father uncle Milan inspired her from the very beginning. Actually he inspires in everything. He doesn’t have a ‘No’ to anything.

Although she wanted to be a writer, and there were absolutely no distraction to it, the way she had to walk does not led her to the dream. In her words, there were lacks of soul foods she needed to bear a fruitful thought.

Now-a-days she writes for money. News, features, variety of contents are written to sell every day. And their mother, Hashu aunty is always busy in cooking, gardening, watching scary movies and going through nightmare for rest of the nights. Her husband keep listening classic rock songs and her daughters maintain routine in quarreling and I keep headphone on and do math.

Well, I like Demien Rice in every possible way. His voice directs to my heart and it feels emptier. Like an ungratified soul, endless hunger inside. It is my hidden self and no one else should know.

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