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The usually stoic and serious Ameya is flooded with emotions haunted by unbearable and overpowering memories one strange, cold rainy night.
It was around 11 pm on a Saturday night when Ameya and her roommate Trishla were preparing for sleep as they would do on any other night. But, something was different this Saturday night. Just when Ameya was about to switch off the television and move towards her bedroom, the window panes were gushed in by gallops of water. The curtains flew left and right as if the storm had entered the house like an unwanted guest.
“How did it start raining so heavily? The weather forecast didn’t predict rains today, right!” exclaimed Trishla with a subtle shock on her face. “Let’s close all the windows tight as this gushing sound of the wind and rain is making me anxious” feared Ameya and went on to shut the windows and pull off the curtains so that she does not see the rain.
“But why? Come on yaa, the weather has become so beautiful. How can you not love rain? Isn’t it the most romantic season of all? I wish I could go out, get wet in the rains and then comes my man, to love me, to dance with me in the rain. I soak in his touch and feel and I wet him with my wet hair..” went on as Trishla dived into her own fairy-tale-like love story.
“But you wish you could…it is only your imagination and nothing else. If you go out and get wet you’ll catch a cold and do you think anyone would care?” cold Ameya fizzled out Trishla’s imagination with her words. To this, Trishla said how unromantic and boring she had become. But, as you know, what you see is different from what you get. Little did she know about the rush of emotions Ameya got after feeling the rains.
Yes, she hide her real emotions behind her cold, boring and lazy words. While she lay on her bed, the rains got heavier and the sound of the rain echoed inside the house as if it wanted say something. Something unheard though, something that wrecked Ameya’s heart and made her eyes red in the middle of the night. She, still, tried to avoid everything and act as if she was fast asleep but something unusual, something strange happened.
On her study table which was nearly two to three feet away from her bed, she saw a golden light getting reflected from the table. That was too spooky for her to ignore and that was when she got up from her bed and started walking towards the table. To add to her anxiety, her feet suddenly started feeling heavy and cold. Her one move forward left her heart heavy as she started breathing heavily. Suddenly a 10-sec walk started feeling like ten miles.
The moment she was about to reach the table, she stopped, closed her eyes and took a deep long breath. Slowly, she somehow gained the courage to take her hand out of her kaftan’s pocket to check what was causing that golden reflection.
With shivering hands, she picked up the vintage, torn, partially decomposed diary that had the golden title on its hard front cover, written, “LOVE” in Italian font, which she realised was reflecting the golden light.
She was shocked to see the diary on the table as she clearly remembered throwing the diary along with her old, unwanted newspapers and books. Red-eyed Ameya looked at the diary, she had no clue where it came come from. There was, something special and strange about this diary, because the moment she picked it up, she started breathing heavily as if she saw a ghost in front of her. At the same time however, she walked into the living room with this diary and sat beside her window pane.
With the gushing sound of rain in the background, tears heavily loaded in her eyes, she opened it. The moment she turned to her first page something filled her with emotions so much so that, just after looking at the first page, she left the diary near the window pane and rushed out into the rainy night.
The next morning when Trishla got up, she got surprised to not see Ameya on her bed. “Ameya baby, are you in the bathroom? Come fast and tell me what should I cook for breakfast”, she called out more than two times.
Not hearing Ameya’s voice even after calling her out two times, Trishla became a little anxious about her absence now. Confused, Trishla started searching for Ameya inside the house. But to her dismay, she was not there in the bedroom, bathroom or even on the balcony, which was her favourite place in the house. As time passed by, Trishla became more anxious and started calling out her name again, but no response from the other side.
“Where did she go? We went to sleep together, then suddenly where did she go?” baffled Trishla started scratching her head. Then, suddenly, she happened to find an old archive type diary near the window pane. She rushed to the window and picked up the diary whose first page was already opened, as left by Ameya.
Always cheerful, happy-go-lucky, and romantic Trishla felt the tension on her forehead just after looking at the first page of the diary. The moment she read the first page, the diary slipped down from her hand and she slowly slumped down on the window pane in shock.
After getting back to her senses, Trishla wiped her eyes and got up as if she finally won the bet on finding Ameya. Without wasting any time, she held the diary in her hand put her phone in her night pants pocket and ran out of the house.
But where? Where did both Ameya and Trishla run? What did the diary have in it that made them unsettled? What was written on the first page of the diary?
Image source: Glenn Carstens-Peters on Unsplash
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UP Boards Topper Prachi Nigam was trolled on social media for her facial hair; our obsession with appearance is harsh on young minds.
Prachi Nigam’s photo has been doing the rounds on social media for the right reasons. Well, scratch that- I wish the above statement were true. This 15-year-old girl should ideally be revelling in her spectacular achievement of scoring a whopping 98.05% and topping her tenth-grade boards. But oddly enough, along with her marks, it’s something else that garners more attention – her facial hair.
While the trolls are driving themselves giddy by mocking this girl who hasn’t even completed her school yet, the ones who are taking her side are going one step ahead – they are sharing her photoshopped pictures, sans the facial hair, looking nothing less than a celebrity with captions saying – “Prachi Nigam, ten years later”.
Doctors have already diagnosed her with PCOD in their comments, based on photographic evidence. While we have names for people shamed for their weight – body shaming, for their skin colour- racism, for their age- age shaming, for being a female- sexism, this category of shaming where one faces criticism for their appearance has no name. With that, it also has zero shame attached to it.
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