Writing About Writings

My original diary book of the college days

A batchmate and a very good friend of mine Drukpa commented in Facebook that my earlier post on “All About Shoes” was dynamic and moved very fast because of the sincerity with which I had narrated the story.

 

I can’t say much about dynamism… but, as he rightly sensed, when I translate my thoughts into words, I visualize the happenings in great detail in my mind’s eye as if they are occurring all over again even as I write. I even burst out laughing like an idiot as I hurriedly type the humorous events as it unfolded, so much so that many a times, I was caught unawares by my family members while guffawing to my heart’s content, and believe me, .. I am quite afraid that they will seriously start doubting my mental condition one of these days!

 

Now, who would better understand the kind of person that I am and what my emotional nature is, other than my very dear friend Drukpa again!

 

Taking into consideration that my dear friend has not changed his nature eversince we parted our ways after getting into service,.. five years together in the college as room neighbors and another one year in the Royal Institute of Management after our successful civil service examinations pretty qualifies both of us to comment on eachother’s nature with complete confidence. Therefore, I know that Drukpa will convey his appreciation only where it is due after having diligently weighed the merit and only upon being satisfied beyond a shadow of doubt that his strict standards are met in all aspects so as to convey them in words! Therefore, this certificate of appreciation from Drukpa is invaluable for the much needed boost in my self esteem and I shall cherish it! Thank you very much, Drukpa!.

 

Having said that, what touched me the most is his recollections of my attempt at writing during the college days because, this opened a floodgate of memories which were all the while lying dormant and locked up in my mind.

 

Just as any other young ladies and gentlemen of my time in the college, I too had ambitions and dreams to achieve something and be someone in life. Some of those were realistic, more urgent and immediate while some were mundane and more to do with my sentiments, emotions and my nature, which to this day is still deficient in patience and pliancy! But whatever it was, all these dreams along with my hopes, aspirations, apprehensions, fears and sentiments used to find their way into my large diary book. I developed this habit of scribbling volumes of all such jumbled-up thoughts and kept the juices flowing on a regular basis purely for the personal satisfaction that I derived from having archived and laid out a part of what I felt in black and white. I would get lost reading and re-reading my own journal of random thoughts, ideas and observations, which, to any second person would plainly be nonsensical scribblings of an immature dreamer, but which nevertheless, meant the world to me!

 

Thanks to the technology and the smart scanning facility that I have in my precious iPhone; I have most of my old memories of the angst and joys of those bygone college days which Drukpa fondly recollected, scanned and preserved in soft copies. They are reflective of my dreams during the most indecisive, harrowing and formulative period of my life which I shall pass on to my kids as their only inheritance from a father, who had always been a dreamer as a youth!

 

Although, what I had scribbled in my old diaries of my college days were either joyous stories of an optimistic youth or the ramblings of a young man about to enter into the real world, but nevertheless, it was a story that needed to be shared with someone or for that matter, anyone, who cared to listen! Therefore, at the cost of being considered deceitful and vain, I would gather few selected friends (Drukpa being one of them!) to listen to what I had to say in the form of my writings. I would not allow my friends to read it themselves because I didn’t want them to have the liberty of distorting facts and drawing their own conclusions! Instead, I would read aloud to them mincing words, displaying a spiraling lack of self control when events simply flowed, enunciating clearly on what I wanted to convey, with pregnant pauses, articulately gesturing with one free hand and establishing a strong rapport with my audience of two or three friends at the most, while ensuring to the fullest that my message is conveyed in the way I wanted them to decipher! As weird as it may seem, at the end of every such sessions, it would always be myself who derived the maximum satisfaction and generally left awestruck with flushed face full of emotions, while my audience would slither away after offering few feedbacks while some would remain nonchalant and still, some would offer genuine appreciations and accolades.

 

But it was not all of my audience who would have their ‘hairs standing on ends’ like Drukpa. I had one of my best friends whom I shall name here as STenzin who qualifies as being my audience to the point of being extreme! STenzin and myself grew up together eversince kindergarten and was together even in the college. During long evening walks down the silent ‘Suicide Point’ and ‘Romantic Zig’, he would entreat upon me to listen to his somewhat soothing renditions of Lopen Yeshi Wangchuk’s classical Zhungdra song, ‘Shara Yoe, Shara Yoe’ (or something like that!). It would almost always be the same classical song which I would be forced to listen every evening even if I was not in the mood while STenzin sang with his heart, lost in the outside world! After so many times of listening to his singing of that classical song, I had unconsciously even memorized the lyrics of the song by heart!

 

Having been his audience for so long, I think that it finally dawned upon him that he needed to pay back! Therefore, one evening, he coerced me with pretentious and far-fetched enthusiasm to read him some of my writings. At that particular moment, I was not in the mood to do so and so I lied down on my bed and waved aside his offer to be my audience. But he was more persistent and even started displaying some bit of genuineness in his enthusiasm as he brought along my large diary book, handed it over to me and laid down beside me on my bed, attentive and eager to listen!.

 

Somewhat taken aback by his sudden enthusiasm, I turned my focus on the book and slowly starting reading out the pages. Needless to say, as I submerged myself into my writings with both of us comfortably lying down on the pillows, I became fully engrossed and read page after page with the same gestures, tone and pauses that I was so used to with my other audiences, all the while deriving brazen satisfaction for having my only audience spellbound and in rapt attention! After nearly one full hour of reading and my voice having now become hoarse, I told him that we would stop the session for the day. Not receiving any reply from my friend, I turned and looked at him. He was snoring blissfully, oblivious to the outside world and had been in that state,.. soundly asleep for the last one full hour of that reading session!!