3P.M Thursday evening, when you are almost excited to get into the week ending mode, and it is time to finally get the dryer unloaded ; you stumble upon a messed up drawer. Yes! You had plans to organize all the never used items in there, on a Friday of last month. To do or not To do?
Easy answer strikes you and you try to close it, is when, that old black diary holds your horses!
Do not open it! No, you just have an hour left to get ready for your dinner date!
Do not open it! No, you just have an hour left to get ready for your dinner date!
It shouts a Pandora Box! Yet, it itches you to the guts and you flip through the pages only to leave you tongue-tied.
Those chewed up words, scratched lines, doctored handwriting ... what were you thinking??
An incomplete note about a night when you were caught for what?? One line note for that long lost crush for whom?? First torn & dyed pair of jeans, that drafted testimonial that never made to paparazzi on Orkut, the tempting miss calls on that old red phone, the attempted cheesy Shayaris...
You wonder why is everything his or her or this and that, on those ruffled pages??
An incomplete note about a night when you were caught for what?? One line note for that long lost crush for whom?? First torn & dyed pair of jeans, that drafted testimonial that never made to paparazzi on Orkut, the tempting miss calls on that old red phone, the attempted cheesy Shayaris...
You wonder why is everything his or her or this and that, on those ruffled pages??
How you wish to travel time and fill in those blanks and give these notes, their due closure! The exhilarating gush of memories that ran past you a minute ago, is not helping.. You struggle through the pages, but to no avail.
And then the phone rings and you have exactly 10 minutes to shower.
Someone rightly said - some memories are too beautiful to unfold, too fragile to be told. They deserve the forever mystery! They deserve your little black diary!
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