My Diary

I had a notebook or say a diary that was maintaining since I was 10. It had all of my school, college and post-graduation days' memories.

It all started my dad gifted me a diary when I was in the second standard. Writing diary entries was just being taught to us at school. So, I started to write a diary entry into it. But it lasted for only a week.

Then, I forgot where I kept the diary.

But during Diwali, I found it and an idea struck me that we should write group entries.

So, for a week, I and my friends I started to write group entries into it but that also didn't last long.

Next up, I started to paste my speeches, debates, poems, etc that I recited at school. Later, I also started to add photos to it.

I also used to carry it to school on my birthday to get wishes written by teachers and my friends in it.

During our farewell, I made my friends and teachers write messages for me into it.

When I went to college, memories were added into it and when I went for post-graduation, more memories were added.

My love letters to my wife were also a part of the diary.

But as I got busy with my work, the diary got lost in the storeroom.

Still, I used to open it after months maybe once a year and read every single page.

But then I would forget it in the store.

Once when I came from a trip before Diwali, I found my wife in the courtyard of our house, burning something.

I realized they piles of newspaper and some cardboard boxes.

But one of the boxes was special. She burnt the box which contained my diary, I tried to rescue the diary but it was way too late.

I was sad and frustrated.

"You hardly get to talk to those people with whom who made those memories!" she said.

Her words hit me.

I was addicted to that diary so much that I stopped respected the people who made those memories with me.

The diary was worth nothing but the memories are precious but the people are more precious.