جمعرات, اگست 9, 2012

A page of my diary

A page of my diary
Yesterday I had to narrate a story at my coaching centre, which was quite daunting for me, since I just started learning English. Nevertheless, I tried to speak and I spoke on how the day before I celebrated my birthday party with my friends, who love and respect me. This was my first experience of celebrating my birthday. This realisation even brought a tear to my eye. My friends showered me with a number of gifts like books, pens, a perfume, a dictionary and a diary.  They all looked very happy but I was inexplicably a little sad.

Athar, Bableen, Zainab,Arsheen  and Rasheed asked me why I looked unhappy. But the truth was that even I didn’t know the reason. I couldn’t even concentrate a bit in class, and when I returned to my room, I got under my blanket and tried to contemplate on what the matter could be. Eventually I dozed off, with thoughts swimming around in my head.

I woke up a little while later to the voice of the Muezzin from a mosque  which was located close to my room .I got out of my bed and went to themasjid  to offer  Namaz, after which ,I recited the holy Quran. After I was done, I went back to my room, and decided to begin reading the book ‘Chicken Soup for the Soul’ which my friend had gifted me. This book was very interesting but today my heart was not in it completely. Eventually I picked up a pen and began scribbling random thoughts in my diary.

I realised a little later that my scribbling was not actually random, but that I had ended up spilling out my inner feelings onto the paper. I was upset with my parents for sending me to a hostel so early, as a young child of 10 years, when I had no clue about life, let alone take responsibility of washing my own clothes and laying my own bed. I realised how angry and resentful I felt towards them for depriving me of a carefree childhood and of my siblings’ love for 15 years of my life.

I looked back at the time when I was leaving for hostel for the first time, and I could still taste my salty tears which flowed relentlessly. I remembered the tears of Ammi too, which related her helplessness in the entire matter.
And that day, on my birthday, all I wanted to do was to spend the day with Ammi and share my joy with her, which had not been. Perhaps that was why I was upset. Perhaps.....