A chill ran down my body as the cold wind washed my face.
"It's getting cold and dark. I should get going", I said to myself, closing the door to the balcony. I went inside and then checked my cell phone on charge. It showed full so I disconnected it from the socket. As I should have done earlier, I switched it on and immediately seven messages flashed on my screen.
Four of them were commercial advertisements for caller tune and other services and the rest were from Manoj, my manager, a reminder for tonight's flight to Delhi.
The flight was at 7 p.m. and my wrist watch showed 5:35 p.m., which meant I had nearly an hour and a half.
I started packing.
A few of my belongings and my laptop I put in my suitcase and my clothes, though few, in another bag then took my cell and called Manoj, at around 6:15 p.m., to inform him that i was about to leave.
I came out to the drawing room, the bedroom door knob in my hand as I cast a look around the room for one last time, checking if I had forgotten something. As I was about to turn around and lock the door, my eyes fell on the drawer.
I don't know what force took me and my hands automatically went to open it.
Inside, as expected, was a diary, quite old, with black velvet cover.
On the cover of the diary were engraved two letters, 'S' and 'D'.
I took it and put it inside my suitcase.
Coming out of the house, I locked the door and then walked to the gate. Once on the road I closed the gate and put a lock on it too. I took one last look at the house and then turned to walk toward the taxi stand. Ten minutes later I found myself sitting on the backseat of an auto rickshaw, as it made its way through the crowded streets of Siliguri.
About half an hour later the auto parked outside the Bagdogra Airport. I took my luggage, paid the man and then went in.
As I was undergoing the checking in procedures, I heard an announcement. "The flight to Delhi had been delayed by an hour from its scheduled time. Passengers are kindly requested to wait. The authorities genuinely regret for the discomfort."
This left me with no other option but to sit and wait.
I went to the coffee stall and bought myself a cup of steaming hot cappuccino. Coming back to my seat, I called Manoj and informed him about the delay, and that I would not be reaching Delhi before 11 PM.
As I sat there, taking sips from my coffee, a thought struck me. I hurriedly opened my suitcase and took out the diary. I had planned to read it earlier but couldn't get the time. I had it then.
I opened it and on the very first page I found a photo, stuck right in the middle. It had two boys in it. They were in regular school uniform. White shirt, green tie with white stripes and bottle green pant.
They had their arms around each other's shoulders and looking at the camera at a very jolly mood.
The photo brought back memories of my childhood days, as one of the boys in the picture was me. The other guy was my friend, my buddy and just like a brother to me. Sid. Siddhart Roy. My best friend. The diary belonged to him.
The initials engraved on the cover, 'S' and 'D' stood for Siddhart and Dhruv.
We've been best buddies since childhood, until one day... that changed it all.
As I read from page to page I pictured my childhood again. With only one difference. It was Sid's vision. All of it. It was as if I was reliving my past again but seeing everything through his eyes. Feeling everything, through his words.
Keeping aside my thoughts I started reading the diary and lost myself in a narrative, that I welcomingly embraced.
