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Monday, 20 April 2015


The diaries held me baffled. The write ups were random, beginning in any page in the middle. The crisp language and the rhythmic prose kept me engrossed. Her writings were scattered around the house in odd diaries and papers as i discovered when i rummaged through old book racks to find something new to read.

My aunt grew up in the same house where i spent my teens. I was her dearest niece. Single and working and independent someone i wanted to be always. Stories of her singleness flew around and i also could sniff them through relatives, neighbours. They indicated some affair and breakup thereafter but i always found nobody was convinced enough even if they would have liked to spin more yarns. Her brothers sometimes supportive , sometimes agitated but there was this immense love and trust from her parents ( my grandpa and grandma) and there was never any argument in the house. Now come to think of it in those days accepting a single independent woman without any rumours , affairs attached was a tough task. But since the time i was in my senses nobody ever dared bring the issue out in the open and always left with a hush hush note.

Her writings as i mentioned kept me hooked. They were short pieces basically, like in one she mentioned strong attraction one girl felt for another, the deep admiration and utter happiness at the sight of her. Those days i had no idea of anything queer, so my run of the mill mind at once assumed that she was speaking of a man. Since it would be embarrassing to write about one so she mentioned a woman!! Well at that age and time i can,t blame myself. I read more, another piece there was a letter addressed to a woman by another, where she speaks of the taboo of loving a woman and the pain she would endure as society would never allow to express her love. I continued with my beliefs all these writings were meant for some man. I asked the question inquisitively to other cousins and neighbours and nobody could make sense other than that she surely would be a jilted lover.

She left the house as i was stepping into my young days. And sometimes the writings would flash in my mind and slowly i knew there was no man. Could it be.... i was reading new things , watching new channels on TV....could it be... the thought was extremely disturbing and unpleasant. I did not want to think of her like 'that'... she was my ideal and my dearest. The perplexing thought made me put away her writings, nor did i ever wanted to discuss her writings with anybody not even my mom, nor did i ever want to read. I loved her so much..so what i did simply sealed that thought in some corner and moved on with loving her as always.

I never could ask her nor it made any sense and neither i talked to anybody ever once the implications were clear.

Movies, articles etc etc i smile and discuss with friends, occasionally laughing and always sure these things are out of my genre why bother.

They do exist. Long back she hid her pain in the randoms pages of her diaries.