I used to maintain a diary since I was ten years old (fifth standard likely), a wonderful old-fashioned habit which I cherished when it was a part of me till it discontinued slightly after my marriage, which is another interesting story by the way, but this is not the time and place. So I’ll save the incident for later.
When I started writing, I was rather shy and uncomfortable, conscious about what I write in those pages and thus breaking the golden rule of keeping a diary by not confiding my secrets to those blank pages wholeheartedly. For a very long period the diaries were privy to my own eyes only and later I am only repentant because I didn’t write the truth and there was no way to redo the mistake.
Gradually I started revealing my writing towards the world, writing for myself, kind of took a backseat. Now, I write at a variety of places but very rarely I write for myself or without any objective, so to speak. Lately I decided there should be some places where these directionless journals should be preserved. In joy or sorrow, triumph or failure – these are my own words, and will always be. So looks like this is going to be my new home for a while.
To those who like my style of writing and have been supportive to me, I cannot say in words how much your support means to me.