Young Writers Society

This is kinda sorta the first chapter to something that could possibly turn out into quite a good story. So anyway, I had posted this small prologue thing called The Diary (http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/work.php?id=100711&load=356147.) And people seemed to like it, so I thought I would continue the story and see where it goes. So here it is. I also want to mention that there is a shift in the POV from first person to third person.

“If ever there is tomorrow when we’re not together, there is something you must always remember: you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think but the most important thing is, even if we’re apart...I’ll always be with you.”

If there is one thing in life that is for certain, then that’s change. Everything changes. We grow a few inches taller each year but we don’t really realise it until we look at an old picture of us. We sport tank tops and shorts and head to the beach every day of the summer but one morning wake up to the sound of raindrops hitting the rooftop. We make promises like “friends forever” but when we think about that friend after a few years, we have no idea what they are currently up to. Change, it is the undisputable law of life. At times, we require tears and sobs to cope with it and other times, we’re glad that it’s done with. Sometimes, it happens so gradually that we don’t even realise how time has raced by, and how it has swept us along with it. Our lives are like a connected story. Sometimes, it’s tangled up and random, but nevertheless connected. We laugh and we cry, we learn and we grow, and someone up there turns another page of the book and before we realise it, yet another year has slid past us. Moments are evanescent, like fleeting stars across the night sky. We live for these moments, and we survive because of the memories.

Memories come in all shapes and sizes – pleasant, devastating, thought-provoking, the ones that make us smile, the ones that make break our hearts. Every room you step into, every song you hear has its own story to tell. The smell of spicy fish curry when you’re away from home, a greeting card you received when you were a kid, a child’s mischievous grin that resembles someone you once used to know. Memories are everywhere, like the air that surrounds us at all times. All we have to do is open our eyes wider, listen a little harder. Pressed between the pages of a book, trapped between the threads of a loved one’s sweater, captured in the gleam of someone’s smiling eyes, memories are just lying there like an unread book. Waiting for a reader, waiting for someone to come and relive them.

*

It was 8 pm on a Saturday night. Outside her windows, the bustle of Delhi streets was very much still alive and noise was pouring in from every direction. While most of the youth of Delhi was dressing up – or rather dressing down – to go out and paint the town red, Neha had already retired for the day. She had locked all the doors and windows of her apartment, gotten comfortable in her pyjamas and perched in front of her laptop, with a warm cup of coffee. She was engrossed into the article that she was working on, furiously typing about the education system in the country. It was an article she had to turn in on Monday morning. “You can work on it tomorrow!” Ekta had pleaded earlier that evening. “Come on! Everybody’s going to be there at the party.”

“Not tonight, Ekta,” Neha had told her. The two of them had known each other for two years, ever since Neha had just been an intern at theEnchantmentmagazine office. Ekta, with a year experience over Neha, had quickly built rapport with the young girl and started to guide her way around in the office. Within six months, Neha was a paid writer at the magazine and wrote a monthly column called “Religion, Politics & Shoes!”

“Please, please, please!” Ekta had been persistent, as always. “Rahul is going to be there. And youknowRahul has a thing for you. Everybody knows!”

“Oh please Ekta. What are we, in high school?”High school. One roller coaster that had been!

“Neha, your deadline is on Monday! And even if you don’t turn it in on Monday, you know Bakshi will excuse you. You are her star writer. If anyone should be working their asses off, it should be the rest of us.”

What Ekta did not understand was that when Neha wrote her articles was not determined by when her deadline was. It, in fact, depended on when inspiration struck. Sometimes it struck a week in advance, sometimes it struck the night before the due date. There were nights when Neha couldn’t sleep because inspiration had decided to strike at 2 am in the morning. It surprised Neha how Ekta didn’t understand that, as a writer herself. Ekta wrote reviews – about books, films, restaurants, concerts. He work required her to attend every happening event or place in town. Her life was, after all, one big party!

Neha was 500 words into the article already when her phone started to ring, interrupting her train of thoughts. Irritated, she decided to let it go to voicemail.It’s probably Ekta, calling from the stupid office party,she thought. But then, she remembered what had happened the last time that she had ignored a phone call almost four years ago. It had been from her mother, with life-changing news...

Neha got up to receive the phone, her heart a little perplexed as the memory of that ignored phone call from four years ago returned. As she fished out her phone from her handbag, she was a little surprised to see who was calling. It was Aanam. The last time she had spoken to Aanam had been around three months ago. It had been on Aanam’s birthday. The two of them had very politely asked about each other’s life and five minutes into the conversation, a very busy-sounding Aanam said that she had to hang up.

“Hello?”

“Neha!” Aanam’s voice was as cheery as ever. “How are you? It’s been so long.”

“Yeah, yeah, I am good. How are you?”

“All good. Hope your writing is going well. I still subscribe toEnchantment.”

“I am glad you do.” Neha gave a little laugh and after a small pause she said, “Aanam.” She hesitated to continue.

“Hmm?”

“I’ve actually been meaning to call you for a few weeks now. The thing is...I’ve been working on this novel and...”

“You are? That’s just lovely.”

“Yeah and...”And I was hoping you could maybe read through the first few chapters and tell me what you think.Ekta had read it, of course, and she had had some insightful inputs to provide which had helped Neha immensely. But in the back of her mind, Neha had always wondered what Aanam would think of it. She remembered the long talks that Aanam and she used to have about the future when they had been just fourteen, and how Aanam had promised to proof read her novel before she could even think of sending it to a publishing house. Would she still be interested? Does she even remember the promise? “I was wondering if –”

“I am really glad you finally started working on it,” Neha was interrupted again. “Can’t wait to read it once it hits the stores.” And that had done it. It felt like someone had poured cold water over Neha. Never again was she ever going to even think about asking Aanam to critique her work. Sure, they had fallen out of touch but Neha always liked to think of Aanam as the first person to turn to for help when it came to writing. Writing was something that they had had in common, back in school. And for every speech or essay that Aanam had to write, Neha had always been there at the other end of the phone, brainstorming with her. Neha had always hoped Aanam would return the favour one day but clearly, she wasn’t even the least bit interested. I bet she lied about the Enchantment subscription too,Neha thought. Then she chided herself at the immature reaction. School friends did have a way of bringing out the teenager in you. Growing disinterested in talking to Aanam now, Neha returned to her laptop. She was giving a cursory glance at her article as Aanam rambled about things that she was only half listening to.

“There’s another thing I have to tell you. It’s actually the reason I called you today.”

“What is it?” Neha asked sipping her coffee.

“I am engaged.”

“You’rewhat?”The coffee seemed to go down pretty hard. When the two girls had spoken last, Aanam hadn’t even had a boyfriend and now she was getting engaged!

“Engaged? To, like, a guy?”

“Of course dummy!” Aanam laughed. “I am getting married in December, and you are invited.” It was three months away.

"December? Wow! Aanam, Congrats. Who’s the guy?”

“His name is Zohaid Sheikh. His dad and papa know each other very well for many years, and...Oh wait! You surely must remember him?”

“Zohaid? The same Zohaid that you had a crush on in the seventh standard? Oh my god, are you kidding me?”

“I know,” Aanam laughed. “It’s all surreal how it fell into place. I mean, I met him for the first time for Shabnum’s wedding, like, a million years ago and then I was instantly drawn to him. Now look at us, so much time gone by, I had almost even forgotten about him...when suddenly out of the blue, Amma tells me that they’ve fixed my marriage with Zohaid.”

“That’s great, Aanam. I am so happy for you. I really am.” Neha couldn’t help but wonder if Aanam was completely comfortable with this arrangement. Sure, they had always expected Aanam to have an arranged marriage and it was no surprise that it would be at an early age too. But was Aanam ready to really commit to something so huge? But Neha wasn’t sure whether it was her place to ask her this anymore. Besides, 24 years of age was still three years later than the age at which her sisters – Shabnum and Mahtob – had gotten married. And perhaps, it wouldn’t be all that bad, since Aanam sort of at least knew Zohaid briefly. More so, even had a little crush on him for a while. Maybe it was the right thing for her after all. But then, there was another lingering question, relating to the night that Aanam had revealed a secret to Neha.

“So you’re coming down for the wedding, right? I mean, the invitation has already been sent to your mother’s house and all...but I didn’t have your Delhi address. Besides, I wanted to tell you personally also.”

“Aanam,” Neha begin. “I am glad. I am really glad to hear about the news, and I will definitely try to be there in December, you surely know that. I am just not making any promises as yet.”

Aanam just laughed. “Oh, I already expected this answer. I hope you know am not taking no for an answer. Come on, everybody said they will try and make time to come. And that’s okay that they’re trying, but you?You can’t just try, youhaveto be there. I mean, you were,” and then she hesitated for a while. “You are the best friend that I’ve had since school ended. I would really like for you to be there.”

Neha was taken aback for a moment. She definitely hadn’t expected those sentiments. “I’ll try,” Neha finally told her in all sincerity. “I’ll try the best that I can.”

“Oh, and something I forgot to mention. You’re coming down next month, not in December.”

“I thought you said –”

“I know what I said, but you’re not just any other wedding guest! You are going to be there for all the pre-wedding stuff. And we have a ton to catch up on.”

“Just to be clear,” Neha heart sped up as she asked her this. “When you said, everybody’s going to be there...who all were you referring to?” Her heart was doing flips in her chest, expecting to hear that name. Did she want to hear the name? She didn’t know. Maybe...But then again, maybe not...

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll just email you the invitation list tomorrow morning.”

*

Neha hadn’t been able to concentrate on her article after Aanam’s phone call. Aanam is gettingmarried,she thought as she lay in bed that night, a wooden box by her side. Aanamis getting married. The same Aanam that used to spend hours with her on the phone on exam nights, the same Aanam who used to make her laugh in class about the dumbest of dumb things, and above all, the same Aanam who had once told her a secret so big that Neha just couldn’t help but question whether getting married to Zohaib was the right thing for her.

She ran her hands over the antique wooden box that she used to keep in her cupboard. It contained all the remnants of her teenage years, and for years she hadn’t thought about the box. Until today. The phone call had awakened memories of a forgotten time. A time when everything was magnified – happiness was bliss, anger was rage, sadness was depression. When she looked back on it now, it felt like all those things had happened in another life time, a whole another world encompassed by a glass globe. Neha looked at the time on her cell phone. 3.15 am.

This is ridiculous,Neha thought.What am I so worried about?It was just high school, after all, not a concentration camp. Everybody goes through high school, and everybody has memories they don’t want to relive. What about the memories that actually made that time in school worthwhile? But Neha knew what worried her. Sure, there had been some really great moments, but amongst that, there were uglier things. Confessions, and mistakes, things she didn’t want to face. She looked at the time after what seemed like fifteen minutes. 3.17 am.

Her hands played over the carved rose that adorned the lid of the wooden box. It had been a gift, that box. A gift from her father. She couldn’t help but smile as she thought of him, and his smile that made his eyes twinkle. “I miss you, dad” she said to the box. “I miss you a lot.” Then, after a dramatic paused she unclasped the lid. The inside of the box was cushioned with red velvet fabric. The contents of the box looked ordinary – a little diary with a purple marble paper cover, a blue envelope peeking out of the diary, a bunch of old key chains, handwritten letters and notes, a multi coloured rock she had picked during a class trek, a piece of rod that her friend Daniel had bent in the shape of an N, a white T-shirt with all her friends’ handprints on it, a pink floral slam book. Her green diary – which had also been the last one – was missing, with god-knows-who. She took out the slam book and as she opened it, she felt like she was picked up and transported to a whole another era. A hotchpotch of different handwritings and smileys and decorative stickers filled up the book. The first page had been filled up by Aanam.

To the biggest idiot in the whole wide world,

I am going to miss you so, so, so much!! Oh my god! Can you even believe that school is ending!! How will I ever survive without school and all the amazing friends? Most importantly, how will I survive without my bestest friend on the entire planet?

I am going to miss math classes with you. The way we used to sit on the last bench together, trying to solve those goddamn sums but end up confusing each other! And all the teachers complaining about the two of us sitting together. All those boring classes, all those boring assemblies you made it so much fun! Now we’re stepping out in the real world, and I am sooo scared to do it without you by my side!

Seriously, why does it have to end??!:( :( And even though we’ve had so many crazy experiences together, what means the most to me is that you were always the one who understood me best. I could turn to you with any problem and you dropped everything to just listen to me. Its hard saying goodbye to you knowing that –

Neha turned the pages and read her friends’ final words to her all over again. Daniel, Lana, Trevor, everybody had filled her book. Almost everybody. There was a blank page that Neha had left reserved for Tanya. But Tanya had never gotten to actually filling her slam book. Neha turned the page, wanting to block thoughts about Tanya, but when she saw the name on the next page, other unwanted thoughts came rushing back to her.Neal. The first line read

To the most beautiful girl I know...

Neha slammed the book shut before she would let herself read any further. She placed the slam book back into the box, clasped the lid and shoved it under her bed. Neha had spent a long time running away from those memories, memories of Neal. But memories, they were deceiving. Once you got a whiff of them, they draw you in. They are full of promises and wonder, but once you let them get to you, they ruin you. That’s why Neha had locked up the box before she could get carried away by the memories. She knew the pain of memories only too well.

*