Book of Love and Emotions

Chapter-1: Where I came from:

Someone once told me, “The best way to tell a story, is to start it from the end.” well, in my case, I don’t know where the end is, and where it all started. But somehow, I better give it out. I always wondered what people write, in their personal diaries. There are a lot of people, who can never go to sleep without scribbling in their diaries. I’ve never gone through one though. As far as what I knew, it was just an entry of daily routines. Gosh! What do people have so important to write about? Come on! It’s a just a daily life. What do we need a written record of our life for? Do we have to save and prove something in the times that are yet to come? Reading it sometimes, when we got nothing else to do, doesn’t mean we’re trying to know what had happened in our lives.

No. whatever I was thinking back there, is bullshit. At least I realized that it is. A personal diary isn’t just entries of one’s daily routines or a record of one’s life. To me, a diary is a book of memories and nightmares, mistake and regret, troubles and getaways, sadness and joy, pain and remorse. Simply, to me, a personal diary is a book of love and emotions.

Have you ever gone through this situation, for example, you flunk a subject and your teacher giving you a real big lecture accusing your failure? At that very moment, you might decide right away, that you’re gonna get serious from then on, and start studying. That’d be for two reasons most probably. One; because the teacher scolded you so bad, you’re not ready to take it again, and you might wanna prove what you are. The second reason has a positive effect. You get inspired by the teacher’s lecture and you would want to improve your potential. You feel a prick on your hands which make the hairs stand. But how long do you think you can take that stand? Not so long to be frank, at least in most cases. Eventually, we start easing down.

See? These kinds of incidents keep happening in your entire life, one way or the other. Someone scolds you, someone motivates you, you watch a video song, watch a movie, try and follow a celebrity, whatever, and you are inspired by something. But, can inspiration alone take you to the place you desire? Hell, no! You have to work your way right through it.

Ok now, enough with this motivational crap. I got a lot of things running in my head and need to talk about them. Come to think about my life, for one minute, it’s a total mess, and the very next minute, I’m the man. What the hell? Good or bad, why can’t I just have something straight? I’ll get to the point. I never did really write a diary. I always thought it was a piece of crap. Yeah I now know it’s not. But it’s too late that I realized it now. There are real cool things that happened in my life, and I also got a lot of crap in my hands. Like I said, whatever happened until now, I don’t have written record. But I’ll try telling it out. Let’s call for a hunch. What does a guy like me have to talk about so seriously? Apparently, it's not about my life that i'm having. It’s about my Love. Everyone’s got dreams about what kind of a boyfriend or girlfriend they need, but dreams can’t come alive in the real world. Wake up from the world of fantasies and walk out to see the real world. It’s a hell.

I’m sensitive, well, way too sensitive, and my instincts are not straight. For an instant, I decide something, but I don’t take a stand for long. Today, I fought with my girlfriend, for the first time. No. she started it, we fought it, and she ended it. She doesn’t wanna talk to me right now and I’m feeling like I’m left all alone. So afraid to be alone, I was taking a walk out on the streets and I stopped by at a layout, of books. And this book drew me towards it. It was a diary and I took it. So here I am, putting most of my life into it. I know that this won’t help me get her talk to me but, I can keep myself busy as I wait for her to cool down, right? Sometimes, I keep talking to myself. Talking to yourself, is the first sign of winning. So now, I don’t think talking to my diary makes any difference.

But wait! You don’t even know where it all started, where I came from. Do you think it’ll be interesting? Let me let you know me, from the very beginning of my life. Don’t worry. I’m not gonna make this boring. I’ll try my best to finish it straight. No offense, but I’m not a businessman to give my feelings out in an official way. So let me just talk my life out, rather than discussing about it. When I’m talking about my life, everything in it seems great to me. But to people who are looking into it, it’s just somebody else’s life.

Now where do I start from? Yeah I’ll start with my mom. Of course, guys love their moms more than their dads. Atleast most of us. But yeah, I love my mom a million tons. She passed away when I was three years old. I just have a very few glimpses of her memories left in my mind, and only one photograph of her and myself, which was taken on my first birthday. She’s still inside me. I am my mom. I’m a little bit of a hybrid kind. Well I can’t say that but I got my dad’s temper, my mom’s face and her heart. Am I lucky? Yeah I’m damn lucky. She left with me her luck, before she left me, and that’s the only thing that has been keeping me happy all my life. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Well lucky to me, I got her face, but still, I don’t look as cute as she was. She was a very kind hearted woman, people told me. Everytime they tell me that I look just like my mom, I cry with triumph.

Now coming to my dad, he’s not much like, into the relationship. It’s just like, a father and a son thing. He sure loves me, but never shows it out. If I want something, he’d give it, but doesn’t talk much about anything. I tried to share a lot of things about me at school, but he almost ignored me most of the times. He’d be listening to me, but thinking about something blank. So that is where I started to talk to myself. My home was a hell, ‘cause things worked like shit between my stepmother and me. So dad sent me off to a boarding school, when I was ten years old, for my fourth grade and I started breaking away from my home and I didn’t even know about it. I was really, really delighted when dad took me to the hostel. I couldn’t take it anymore at home. It was my declaration of independence. Better yet, I missed my dad, and it pretty much faded away, ‘cause the older I grew, the lesser he cared about me.

Ok fine, now, what I’m going to say, might be a little funny but whatever, I was a complete asshole at school. I used to get into a lot of fights, so I got beaten up a few times. On the contrary, I made real cool friends with a few, and so it wasn’t always rough. So for two years I was in that school. By the time I completed my fifth grade; I was pretty good at drawing and had a beautiful handwriting. Dad used to come thrice a year, to take me home for holidays. Oh how I wanted to talk to him about how well, I made friends at school, how badly someone hit me, how impressed teachers were, with my behavior. I wanted to share with him my drawings, show him my handwriting, but all he let me show was my report card. I was in the top five but still he wasn’t any satisfied. I only wished that he knew what I was turning into, rather than living with an idea of what I had been. I learnt to make friends, I learnt a lot of things, but I failed to learn his ways and that failure made me feel lonely.

Frankly speaking, I had a problem and I certainly knew what it was. It was my attitude. I never knew how to use it and that was why, I wasn’t any good. I was more like a shy thing, so I didn’t talk to girls much, but as a matter of fact, girls like silent sweet guys, as kids. Well as they grow up, their areas of interests and tastes change a lot and they become unpredictable. I got a weak point. I can’t help commenting people and teasing them. I get a chance, or I don’t, either way, I can’t stop stop myself from teasing people who are close to me. Tell you what! I didn’t know that the best way to show a girl that you like her, is to tease her and make her smile, and never let her lose it.

I didn’t actually like that school and didn’t hate it either. I was just ok with it. I didn’t enjoy my life so much out there but I definitely started to enjoy my freedom. Dad’s really good at blowing out sudden news which sometimes gave me a shock. “You got to write an entrance exam for your sixth grade in another school.” He said.

I didn’t like the idea of changing. “it’s a very good one, a famous one, and there are a lot of pupil compared to this one.” What was I thinking? More people, more fights. I imagined people hitting me for every single step that I take in that campus. I never really had a choice did I? I had to do what my dad said. So I attended the exam, did pretty well in it. Dad gave a treat to his colleagues that I passed the test. I didn’t wanna go to that school. But I had to.

And as I expected, days there in the start were pretty rough. Had to stick to whatever timetable the school and hostel had, didn’t work out well with anyone, started up with arguments, ended up with a few fights. No, I don’t wanna talk about it. But then, things changed. The only thing that helped me out was that I knew how to use my attitude. ‘Be cool with people who are cool, and people who ain’t cool, stay away and mind your own business.’ I said to myself. I made friends with a psychotic guy in the whole school. Name’s Prateek. He isn’t any bad, but people didn’t mess with him because no matter how deep, he never took any shit. I kind of carried the same attitude as he did. The difference was, he spoke out frankly about things no matter what, the consequences were, and I always feared what the consequences would be, and held back. He wasn’t afraid to get hurt, because he knew how to control the pain. I could simply call him a psycho, ‘cause whatever he did, was a devil’s job. He taught me a lot of things and I learned them pretty fast. He taught me how to dance, and these moves I got now, helped me make lot of friends. I owe that to him.

So finally, I figured out how to mingle with people, how to have fun with people, how to avoid fights. I started making friends. Well, a lot of friends. Unfortunately, I have no idea how my school life faded. All the memories from that heaven, are still imprinted in my mind, but I just didn’t notice any of them, when I was in there. Did all the crazy stuff, had lots of fun, did too many sneaking aways, and did too much bunking. PuNishments, assignments, beatings, oh everything was there. I was taught too many things before I got out of that school. We always dreamt of the afterlife. Just like everyone else, I dreamt of too much fun at college, hangouts, shopping, movies, parties, and girls. But it wasn’t the way it seemed. College was tougher. It was just the opposite of what we imagined it to be. I was joined into a boys’ hostel. It was a hell of a disappointment that we couldn’t hangout. I made a lot of friends though. Everyone was impressed by my drawings, my poems, and the way I had fun with all of them. We always thought we were locked up in a building with pile of books all around. Eat, sleep and study was the only motive. We eagerly spent our weekdays waiting for the weekends so we could go out for outings on Sundays. We spent sleepless Saturday nights, planning about what we were gonna do and where we were gonna go the next day, trying to manage efficiently, the time that’d be given to us.

We used to go to movies in the noon where it was colorful with girls, roam around the city, come back late, and go to beds after a long lecture from the in-charges, used to stand at the balcony with few other boys, checking out the road for girls passing by. Some of us would mock at them, make a woo sound and I used to enjoy that fun chit chatting, hoping the bell wouldn’t ring so soon. What can I say? Small life, big plans, huge dreams.

I spent one long year in that so-called-lock-up and later, somehow managed my dad to get me out of there. I got changed to another college, where I could roam around and have all the fun I could probably have. But this is where, the idea of my fun changed. I just wanted to have a little fun along with my studies. Too much of anything is never good. Well, in the beginning, it was fun, but it got heavier, and as it got heavier, it also got harder for me to carry it.