I share a very special relationship with the notebook and it goes back a long way. I‘ve never had too many friends in my life and at times there were none. Even at home, I had no siblings. To fill up this void, I befriended notebooks. I would sit quietly for hours scribbling. Sometimes I would sketch cartoons, at others I would write down sweet and simple incidents of innocent childhood. I also had my patent games. Sometimes I would pose to be a teacher and my notebook would transform into an attendance register, sometimes I would be a government employee and my notebook became the omnipresent file. With time I grew up & I guess so did my unique friendship.
As it happens, life got more and more complicated over time. And the more it did , the more I was drawn back to the notebook. I started writing diaries, poems and experiences. I poured my heart out, penning down my deepest feelings. Often when I am restless or sad, I write incessantly till I calm down. Its not always about me, but in one way or the other these are people or circumstances which shape me every day. At times when I am baffled with unanswered questions, I throw them at my notebook, knowing very well that there won’t be replies. At times, that makes me think harder and come up with my own answers.
Through love and heartbreak, through humiliation and fame, through success and failure, friends have come and left, but my notebook has stayed loyal. Though it was always a one way conversation, I had something which would patiently hear me out. Its no wonder then, that some of my life’s most heartbreaking confessions lie safe in the confines of my dear notebook.
Its strange that when I go through my old diaries, I know a new me. I relive the moments I have left behind. Its almost like pressing a rewind button. Sometimes it motivates me, sometimes it saddens me, but it almost always amazes me. Looking back I wonder, how different a person I would have grown into without this friend of mine. I surely owe a lot to my best friend “My Notebook”.
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