“What if one day you wake up and realise that you are a character of your favourite romantic movie/book or maybe everything you thought you experienced in real life was dream and what you thought was a movie which played no part in your life was actually the life you were living” Lina said excitedly while Thea looked at her bored. “Done with your ever so ‘let’s romanticize everything’ stupidity? It is never real and real life does not work that way, you find someone, you like them, they like you, getting married, fighting, companionship and what not. This is what happens in real life and honestly it’s not meant for silly feeling of butterfly but all about the warmth”
Lina looked at her friend of 10 year with a surprised look, never has Thea talked about relationships like this before, she might have mentioned being interested in something similar but only that. While Lina then went on animatedly explaining a new romantic story she read, Thea just sat there absentmindedly holding an old diary in her hand opening and closing it from time to time and would sigh every time disappointed.
It was 8 at night when Thea sat on her bed with a sigh, a long day but her mind had been distracted with the thought of something or to be specific with someone. Her thoughts drifted to 6 months back when everything was a bit sane in her life. She had gone to an antique store and found a very beautiful diary with a wood cover with intricate carvings, the name Sam was carved on it with the year 1855. Thea was intrigued by it as the diary had a few torn pages, something which made her curious about how this diary got here.
She asked the owner about the diary who told her it was someone not so special who had once served the crown in the Indian colony during 1850s and the only thing known about the man was his collection of personalised diaries which he learnt to carve from an artist in India and this diary was one of them.
Thea took the diary home, setting it on the side table with her lamp and a houseplant. She had gone back to her daily routine when one fine weekend she was sitting with a book in her hand when her eye caught the diary kept there. Picking it up, she admired the design and then opened it, ruffling through the empty pages and some torn ones. To her it felt like the diary had never been used but still there were traces of a feeling as if it held a lot of memories. She shrugged the thought aside, hitting her head stating that obviously it has traces of the past since it belonged to someone.
Thea woke up with a thud sound, hazily realising that she had slept on her couch giving into random thoughts. She saw the dairy dropped on the floor, picking it up. She was going to keep it back when the pages which were earlier blank were now filled with someone’s handwriting. Her eyes flew open, turning the pages she saw filled up till the 5th page. She thought it must be a dream or her imagination since she’s too sleepy but the curiosity got to her and even though it might be her imagination she wanted to read.
The date on the diary was 10 October 1855, “The place feels different than Delhi, the air around it, not so bustling with people but yet there is a sense of rejection. Why would it not be, different people from a different country living in a space they think they are entitled to. I cannot abandon my place even though I do not stand for it, father would not let me, even though he’s too far away to know about it so soon. First day as a lieutenant was nothing eventful, later today I roamed around the market looking for some lanterns for my new place. But what happened after that is something I cannot get out of my mind. It was getting dark and I was coming back to my quarter when I saw a man and a woman hiding behind the bushes, the man apparently her brother since she called him bhaisahab. Some people were in that area maybe searching for them but when they looked at a British soldier, which was me, they went away given the record of how other soldiers had behaved with the common population their actions were valid.
The duo got up and turned to look at me, I thought they would leave too but they came and just thanked me for something I didn’t know I did.
The man was young, must be around my age, he had a bearded, cloth wrapped as a hat around his head, a fine nose and a sharp jaw. The woman had her head covered, with a bindi on her forehead and a ring on her nose.
They left when I nodded with whatever little Hindi I understood. And I was left with a longing feeling to see them again. I entered through the gates where I saw a wanted poster and what caught my eye was it was the woman who I had just seen a few minutes back”
Thea turned the pages to read more but it was all blank, her mind was foggy, shocked and scared she kept the diary back and went to bed telling herself that it was just a dream. She woke up the next day and the first thing she did was open the diary, hitting her head she assured herself that it was all a dream because the diary was blank like it had always been. But what she had missed was the next few pages had been filled.
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I am a law student and a content writer here, who appreciates harmless sarcasm. I write about whatever my brainbox (or yours) fancies. Writing something other than research papers and assignments makes life a little less chaotic, for it gives a sense of unwinding your emotions. I like exploring and talking over ideas and thoughts (and an open political discussion).