Mysterious Notebook

tuesday

You know what is a diary for?

Its a personal journal. The word journal comes from jour in french. It means day. It refers to daily work.

And as far as daily is concerned I have always failed to keep a record of all my days. According to me, this is not just a journal. Its a personal scrap book. Its a jar where I store all my experiences. Experiences that moved me. That made me cry, made me laugh or made me just sit and ponder. Thats what my brown old little diary is for.

To me. Its a closet of my feelings where I keep old memories that meant something to me when it happened. It might not be great things or always right things. But they are the things I would like to remember and cherish whenever I want to.

Thats where I need you, Brown.

You are the secret guardian of my personal scrap book or memory and feelings closet.

If I were a witch with magical powers I would have tried to make you able to speak to me your opinions too. But I aint magical. You are mute. But still you are important to me.

There may be times when what I ll tell you might not make much sense. But thats fine. Everything doesnt have to necessarily meaningful always. There are many things in life that happens unnecessarily. Nature donot need to look so beautiful and each time diversely differently beautiful. The sun rises everyday yet each day is a new scene. A new landscape. A new play of clouds and colours spat across the vast stretch above us.

That beauty in nature. In sunsets and in moon and in stars and trees, in birds and in insects. Those are unnecessary. How many people stop to stare and appreciate the speed with which a creeper tries to survive inspite of all the poisonous dust emissions from factories or the dry winds? How many people slow down in their busy lives to look at the struggle of existence raw and bitter in the very blades of grass that we inhumanly crush and stomp on?

Very few.

Just a handful of children look up from their video games or mobile phones or ipods at the owl sitting on the ledge of their window silently at night.

Only a few poor unemployed sentimental fools sit on the park benches and smile at the ugly trees growing beside the park boundaries.

They are fools according to practical successful humans. They are worthless, useless. They have no penny in their pockets. They have holes in their hat. Their children suffer from insecurities and bullying at schools. Yet they are the humans.

They are the actual real humans. The only humans in this fast paced modern mechanised world.

They are under attack from all sides.

Consumerism. Capitalism. Media fed public opinion. Political power influence. They are pushed out of the edge. They are marginalised. They are made misfits.

Millions of unfeeling insensitive robotic machines grow up with only one never ending desire. The desire to earn. To earn more than their parents did. To have class, name and power. To be looked upto. To be admired. They dont care about the weeds growing in their gardens. They wrench them out with bare hands. They uproot them and graze them to the ground. Weeds cant bother them.

They are not bothered by trees either. They bring in tractors and road builders. They make the vehicles push and shove at the strong thick trunks. They give orders. Others follow. Some others stand and watch.

The massive ancient trees come down. They fall head first upside down. Their roots torn apart with brutal force standing upright while their once towering topmost leaves and branches brush the feet of practical humans.

Animals dont scare the practical humans. They cage them. Put them under tranvquilizers. Make them show pieces in clean tidy cages where children with contact lenses go to watch them and taunt their resigned defeated postures.

Such is the present modern world human beings. And such is their power and success.

Annie seemed to be very fired up today. Perhaps she was taking her philosophy course at the Uni. seriously nowadays.

She kept her diary aside and rubbed her forehead. It was still thumping inside. A coffee would be welcome now, she thought. Annie got up and walked towards the coffee maker.