the brown diaryIt was 5 ‘o’ clock in the evening. I had to go downstairs to meet my friends who were waiting for me in Lakhan kaka’s tea-stall just adjacent to our apartment. I hurriedly put my sweat shirt and a trouser and went out of my room. I was calling my mother, who was preparing coconut cookies and chocolate pie for my sister and her husband. She was so consumed in her chores that she did not even hear me calling her unceasingly. So I had to walk to the kitchen and inform her that i was leaving. As I was about to step out of the main door, I heard a high pitched voice behind me asking to halt my proceeding steps.

I turned back and see my father. With each of his approaching steps towards me, the blood through my veins were rushing at a double rate. Finally he pulled up his steps and called my mother. She came running from the kitchen instantly. For no apparent reason he started yelling at her, calling her names and blaming her for spoiling us. She was standing numb with eyes full of despair as always. When I tried to confront him for this action, he slapped me saying, “Don’t meddle in the affairs that are not of your concern rather than that concentrate on your studies that will at least fetch your with a petty job.” I was very annoyed hearing this. It is something he keeps on repeating almost every time, that make me feel like a loser. Without giving a thought I simply went out of the house, banging the main door. Even after that I could hear his noise till the staircase, yelling at my mother.

I was so upset that I told my friends that I am not available for today as I had some immediate chores to attend before my sister arrives. And I walked to the backyard of our apartment for some fresh air.

My father had always been a stubborn person who only comprehend what he wants to comprehend. He would be the last person with whom anybody would share anything in the family. Everyone in the house was scared of his behaviour so preferred usually to keep silent and not argue. He is an esteemed gazetted officer with higher of the educational degrees but his mind probably could not grow. He only requires an issue to break into us with all his frustrations, mostly on my mother. She is a very understanding and a humble lady, who always prefer to swallow the harsh words of my father rather than standing up for herself. Very often I feel she is way too good for a person like my father. Whenever we try to convince her for fighting back with our father, she puts an end to the conversation stating, “I am bound to him and you both till my death, your father is feeding us, paying our bills and fees for your studies. What else do you need?”
This phrase shut both me and my sister up. So we accepted the fact that she has kneeled down to her destiny and whatever we say, isn’t going to affect her anyway.

It was 6:30 in the evening, my sister called me saying they will be reaching around 9:00 ‘o’ clock for the dinner. I went back to the house and rang the door bell. My mother opened the door. Listening to her voice I could sense that something must have went wrong after I left. Probably I should not have left her alone!
I knew she wouldn’t say the truth, no matter how much I pester. So I tried to comfort her by kissing her forehead, giving her a tight hug and promising her that one day we would definitely get out of this hell!

She smiled at me rubbing her palms across my face and kissing my forehead in return. On informing her about my sister’s phone call she asked me to get the fruit basket that was in the cupboard of our store room.

I went to the store room to get it. I searched all over and found it on the lower slab of a corner table. It was full of dust. But I collected it and was going to exit the room. Accidentally I fell down colliding with a statue, that hit the cupboard and while preventing the statue from breaking, I had a very painful hit on my elbow. Thankfully, my bones did not fracture or got sprained. I arranged the things as it were and turned to move out. Suddenly I saw a book lying right next to the cupboard. From the cover, the book seemed quite old. As I went closer and opened it, I realized that it was actually a diary and name of my mother was inscribed in its first page. There were several photographs pasted and innumerable stuffs written. I took it hiding from my mother, carried it to my room. Never in our life we had a chance to witness her handwriting. We were under the impression that our mother had no formal education which resulted to her under confidence. This diary however surprised me and I was impatient to discover what was written in there. I was curious if this brown diary of my mother holds a story we never knew.

(To be contd..)


Previous Post: Growing Up

2 Replies to “THE BROWN DIARY”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

error: Content is protected !!