THE RECTO OF MY DIARY

Its been another tiring day. Exams are over and as per the basic nature and rule I should have been resting but I am getting restless. Things are just going off track. The tenebrous clouds of chaos , confusion, expectation and aspiration have covered me completely. I wonder whether these clouds would ever shudder themselves as satisfactory rain. Will they?

It was recess time and I was on the third floor of my school building . I moved to the wall and looked down ...(no idea of jumping)and that was the moment of epiphany. Beneath the cerulean sky waited the iridescent painting. What I saw was my desire personified, what I saw was my dead smile, what I saw was my lost innocence, what I saw was the end of infinity. And that was the game of those kids in the quadriangle. You know what was the best part, they were holding hands not for some reason, they held hands because they wanted to. With lunch box in one hand, those kids today were no less than ethereal beauty defined. We long for the things we don't possess and today I long for that joy, I long for that laughter (not smile), I do long ......

I still remember how badly I wanted to grow up because being a grown up means more importance but that's not so . Being grown up today means being able to crack adult jokes, being grown up means you have to put your life into the smoke of cigarettes and in the fuddle of alcohol, being grown up means disrespecting everyone except yourself, being grown up means ....I am still trying hard to discern the meaning for I am not a grown up but I am also not a kid.

I again want to believe in the tales of Cinderella , I again want to carry "kash doraemon mujhe mil jaye"in my wishes, I again want to love everyone I see, I again want to cry, I again want to be one among those kids . But I am neither a grown up nor a kid for I am that small torn piece of your notebook that's flowing and fluttering with the wind so that amidst the storm and zephyr it could find its existence.