An old diary

Today, as I read stories from an old diary, written by me ten years ago, I couldn’t help but overcome with a realization that how much I’ve changed in these years.

Is it really me! I almost laughed reading one about the meaning of love. Reading another, a debate on Science vs Religion, I admired the conviction of a young boy about a topic which is still engaging the best minds of our times.

I read on, trying to know more about this version of myself from the past whom I had completely forgotten about with the passage of time. It was like peeping into an another person’s minds. Eavesdropping on his private conversation. For every word felt as if penned by some another person. Some another being altogether.

There were so many bits that revealed the nature of the days spent, then, when I was in school. When I so innocently believed in the familiarity of life fostered by the daily routine and structure imposed by the school.

It was fascinating, to read about the challenges of this person. A young boy growing up in a bustling city of Delhi and weaving dreams about his future, while dabbling with everyday teenaged challenges.

How I cared about little things that felt so important then!

From ruing the fact about getting up early in the morning, to promising myself to be better prepared the next time for a test. About a high-school crush whom I could never gather the courage to even approach, to meeting people who became best friends in the blink of an eye. Friendly fights that became serious. And serious fights that made us new friends.

This and many more little but important things became my life.

And somewhere between these sibling fights and childhood crushes, when I was too involved in day to day challenges, when I was focusing at yet another day of classes in the school and running with my friends in evenings, when I wasn’t looking, I had left a life of childhood behind and grown up into a man.