Sunday, December 9, 2001		Life Ties

Diary as a confidante and soulmate
Taru Bahl

ON her 13th birthday, Bhavya’s mother presented her with Anne Frank’s memoirs, alongwith a leather-bound diary. She said, "There are many things you may not want to share with others. You can now write them down in this diary. Of course, it can record your physical movements too like where you went and who you met but more than that, it can be your friend in good and bad times — one who will never let you down." Bhavya did not fully understand the import of her mother’s advice at that time.

Bhavya was possessive about her diary. She kept it locked in a secret drawer, a specially-created, hidden enclosure in her desk which had its own tiny golden key. She had the confidence that her parents and brother would never read it, yet she kept it safe from prying eyes. The first lesson her diary subtly taught her was to respect others’ privacy.

The diary grew along with her. Initially, it was where she would religiously jot down the day’s high points. Visits to the zoo, film, picnic, or a party were faithfully recorded with the date and time. As she became comfortable with the medium, she turned more adventurous. If her class teacher pulled up a friend, Bhavya found her pen automatically forming a caricature and mind conjuring up a witty caption. The handiwork brought a smile to her face and took away some of the anger which she had felt at the teacher’s high-handedness.

As her confidence in her writing grew, she found her moods and feelings finding an outlet in creative limericks and poems. This sensitised her more acutely to her surroundings, thus making the growing up years less painful. There were times when something impacted her strongly— like the time she saw a cat which had been run over by a car and had been partially eaten up by scavengers. It was a gruesome sight. What hurt her more however was the indignity the cat faced in death. How people, including her, chose to walk pass it, hoping someone else would give it a decent burial was upsetting. As she wrote in the diary, trying to come to terms with her guilt, she found herself moving towards the phone, making calls and landing at the local People for Animals office. Today, she is one of their active spokespersons! Bhavya knows that she could not have shared her feelings with her giggly boy friend-obsessed classmates and an over-protective family who would balk at her brooding seriousness. The diary had held her hand and shown a way out.

She discovered early in life that expectations from people, even with her parents, brothers and best friends, could be thwarted. There were times she wished her mother had more time to talk and help her understand the changes that were happening to her body. It was in those neglected moments that she turned more desperately to the diary, penning her thoughts in prose and verse, asking questions, seeking answers and stilling her mind. As she gave vent to feelings of neglect, she found her anger dissipating. After a ‘session’ with the diary she felt cleansed. She could now see her mother in a different light. She was willing to give her the benefit of doubt and excuse her for ‘being too busy.’ Once she ‘forgave’ her mother, she could see the whirlwind the senior lady was caught up in. It was the diary again which made her look at things from another’s point of view and go that extra mile by helping out.

Now, as a responsible adult, she could see by hindsight that her diary had taken on the role of a shrink. It met her emotional needs, giving maturity and wisdom that come with spiritual enlightenment at a later stage in life. It had the stoic presence of a mate, who, though a silent spectator, was unfailingly there for her. In those turbulent years, she penned hundreds of pages, sometimes sitting through the night, exhausting one refilled pen after another, crying as she wrote, applying such hard pressure that the pen broke or the page tore; but she continued to unleash her negative energies and her feelings of rejection, pain and anger. The loyal friend took the abuse without sulking, retaliating or abandoning her at any stage.

By the time Bhavya was 18, the diary had unwittingly become her best buddy. What was not so good about this was that alongwith giving succour and comfort, it had also taken away her fighting instinct. She had lost the ability to lash out when wronged. Her resilience and inner strength were qualities, but not when they made her internalise hurts and disappointments, making her incapable of calling a spade a spade and giving back as good as she got. This was most prominent in her relationship with Rehana, her hostel room-mate. What hurt was the way she mocked Bhavya’s "puppy dog loyalty." It boosted her ego seeing the way Bhavya trailed after her and put up with her bullying. Rehana, unthinkingly, said derogatory and demeaning things in front of others, ignoring the tears that welled up in Bhavya’s eyes. Unable to give an instant repartee, numbed into silence, she sought refuge in the comforting pages of her diary. Why was she such a wimp ? Why could she not set the pace for the relationship ? Confiding in the diary, she was forced to address the reasons that had led to her dependence on Rehana. She knew the fault was hers since she could not muster the courage to walk away. She had willingly allowed the aggressive Rehana to treat her shabbily. As she implored the diary to help her seek solutions and an immunity to the daily round of hurts, she found herself thinking of a life without Rehana. Giving up a best friend, who is privy to your secrets and insecurities, is not a comforting thought. The continuous reinforcement and auto-suggestion in the diary made the resolve appear more real. The picture became clearer. How could someone who revelled in hurting, shaming and belittling you, be your well-wisher and friend ? Bhavya finally found her long-lost strength to give a tongue-lashing when it mattered, to be nasty if required and to stop Rehana from heaping indignities on her. The moment she found her voice, her body language changed. From a meek girl, she became a stronger, more confident woman and it wasn’t long before Rehana got the message that she could no longer mess around with her. Now, whether she chose to find another prey or re-alter her relationship, was her decision but Bhavya had outgrown the need to have Rehana as her crutch. She was ready to take on the world. On her own. And in some ways even without the comfort of her diary. No longer did she need the diary to pen her sad, forlorn thoughts. She could deal with them at her level. If she turned to its pages now, it was more out of choice not need and a lot of her jottings were thoughts of hope, happiness and cheer. The diary had become a real friend now — she could lean on it in times of need and find sustenance to stand on her own two feet and face the world squarely.